![]() ![]() Surprisingly, it was not my body that betrayed me it acclimated to the physical demands of the pilgrimage with relative ease. ![]() As one day blurred into the next, I felt like I was bleeding to death from paper cuts, slowly drained of my resolve. But the punishing climbs and searing heat set me back on my heels. I had always found ambulation to be a peaceful and meditative practice. And now, at a crossroad of such significance, I felt as if I needed an adventure of epic proportions to find my way back.įor 37 days I walked the Camino with a small tribe of hikers. In the silence of the wilderness, the answers I sought made themselves known. When I needed clarity or solace, I turned to the woods. The created world has always been my compass. The author walking outside Pamplona, Spain, 2010. ![]() Somehow, she knew enough not to try and talk me out of it. But instead of turning to Botox, or indulging in shopping sprees or distracting myself with work, I told my wife I wanted to walk 500 miles. Overwhelmed with sadness and missing the cornerstone on which I had always relied, I was like a fish out of water, flailing and gasping for air. Suddenly the trajectory of my life felt predictable and staid. That decision had all the hallmarks of a full-blown midlife crisis. I recognized this same emotional precipice with a weary familiarity, for 12 years prior I had come to Spain with the intention of walking the Camino in its entirety. The hills, the temperature and the weight of their bulging backpacks were beginning to take a toll. But by the midway point, they had started to wilt. Wide-eyed and eager, my gaggle of ramblers had made quick work of the first few days on the trail. We had traveled to Spain during an early heatwave in June to hike the final 71 miles (115 kilometers) of the famed Camino de Santiago, a 500-mile path that winds its way through some of the country’s most scenic and rugged terrain. In front of me stood six of my 14-year-old students. ![]()
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