A few short weeks ago I was somewhere in the region of Galicia in Spain sitting on a rock and having a snack. I was tired. I was sore. I didn't want to keep going. I wasn't lost but I didn't actually know where I was. Everything in that moment was making me grumpy.
I heard the chatter of other walkers approaching. Two women, older than me, appeared around the corner and smiled as they passed. Knowing smiles. Smiles that said, you're doing great, you've got this. I watched as they disappeared further down the path and realized I had no choice but to stand up, put on my pack, and walk. The kindness of their smiles was the nudge I needed to start again.
Onwards ... one step at a time.
On a different path, The West Highland Way in Scotland, my husband took this picture of me on our first day. It's not one of Sarah smiling looking happy and energetic! I am scowling. Red-faced. Iβm leaning heavily on my hiking poles. It had been a crap few hours. My pack was heavy. I was hot. My feet hurt. My legs felt like cement blocks. I was mad. I'd been excited about our adventure and on day one everything sucked. It was nothing like what I'd imagined. Then he snapped that photo and I wanted to kill him for finding my distress funny.
It's one of those memories that is funny now. That night, after a cold drink, a refreshing shower and a casual dinner at the local pub, I felt like a new person. Day two was totally different. I'd adjusted my pack. I'd changed the layers of clothing I wore. I'd eaten a massive breakfast. And, after walking twenty-four kilometres on day one, I had an idea of what to expect when I set foot on the trail.
The subsequent days on The West Highland Way, certainly weren't all smooth sailing but nothing ever felt impossible. I always had someone to giggle with, check directions, admire the stunning scenery, share a pint and, most of all, someone to help me when I wanted to sit down and give up.
Walking a portion of the Portugese Camino on my own was a different experience. I was my own cheerleader. It was up to me to figure out directions. When the scenery was beautiful I paused in admiration. A glass of vino tinto (aka red wine) was enjoyed whilst people-watching or reading my book. I was the sole photographer (no scowly faces on this walk)! And, for the most part, I loved it.
I might have been walking by myself but I was never lonely.
I didn't realize how much I needed to pause everyday life until I started walking. I wasn't completely offline but I was mindful of how I stayed connected. I walked with my phone in airplane mode. I mostly ignored email and social media. I checked in with my husband at the end of each day so he knew I was okay. But otherwise, I didn't really talk to anyone at home. The five-hour time zone difference helped too. I was awake and walking long before the day had started across the Atlantic!
It was liberating to quiet the noise.
The first couple of days my mind was on overdrive. Nothing was coherent. My brain felt like the rush of cars on a highway. One thought would roar past. Then another. They would all blur together like the abstract photos you see of traffic and the lights on vehicles.
With each passing day though, as my pace quickened, my mind slowed.
I'd tinker with an idea as I walked taking my time to noodle through what it could look like. It felt like I could finish a thought instead of racing from one half-baked idea to another.
As much as I was relishing the time and space to myself, I missed having someone to cheer me along when things felt hard. I missed having someone to get soaked in the rain with and laugh at how ridiculous the weather was. I missed having someone to people-watch with and wonder what others were saying in languages I couldn't understand. And I missed having someone who knows me well enough to remind me to pause and have a snack when I get grumpy.
My last day of walking on the Camino was the longest, the wettest and, it was the day I considered giving up.
I hadn't slept well the night before and my old βfriendβ, achilles tendonitis, had flared in my right ankle. That morning, I hobbled around getting ready to head out. I was mad it hurt and berated myself for not stretching or massaging it more. As I stepped out the door to start walking, the skies were a moody grey. It wasn't yet raining but you could feel the thick clouds ready to burst at any time.
Come on, Sarah. I thought to myself. Last day, best day!
The first five kilometres were slow. Thankfully though, the more I walked the more my ankle loosened. I focused on the Camino sign markers counting down the mileage left to Santiago. There was a light drizzle in the air but I barely noticed. Okay, I can do this, I told myself. Today is going to be great!
I stopped for a bite to eat. A warm cup of tea filled my belly in the dampness of the day. I headed off again following the yellow Camino arrows through the little village towards the path. I still wasn't feeling particularly energized with fifteen kilometres to go so I pulled out my headphones and played music I could sing to. That helped! I walked and sang. And sang some more.
Further along, I paused beside a field to watch three baby goats prance and dance around. They sprung up and down in the long green grass without a care in the world. I smiled with delight. It was all so simple. So playful. So happy. With a lightness in my step, I left my goat friends and continued walking. Twelve kilometres to Santiago.
It would prove to be a very wet final twelve kilometres. The rain was like nothing I'd ever walked in. It was the kind of rain that if I'd been driving I probably would have pulled over. But I kept walking. Along paths. Under bridges. Crossing roads. Hopping rocks over puddles. One foot in front of the other was all I could focus on. I kept moving. I kept cheering myself on.
When I arrived in Santiago and stood in front of the Cathedral I couldn't stop smiling. The rain had finally slowed. I had made it. My exhaustion, aches and pains all faded.
It was a moment where time stood still and I felt an immense sense of awe, pride and gratitude. It is a feeling I will carry deep within my soul forever.
The Camino taught me how to be entirely on my own. No partner to walk with. No group activities. Just me. It was an entirely different experience than walking The West Highland Way with my husband. Totally different than any retreat Iβd done. There were many times when I wanted to share something with someone or needed a calming voice to tell me it would be okay.
The Camino taught me I can figure it out. I can push through the muck. I am strong when I need to be strong.
The Camino gave me the space to quiet the noise of life. It didn't happen immediately, but when I started to slow down it was magical. A reminder that creating space to walk untethered to life and technology opens my heart and mind.
If I'd been walking longer I would have sought out the company of others, but I needed that time on my own to reset and remind myself of the possibility in life.
I won't always walk solo but now, I know I can.
At the Cathedral I met the women who had passed me earlier. The women who, just by smiling as they walked by, had lifted me up and helped me forward. We took pictures and congratulated each other. Turns out we had been walking at a similar pace but it wasn't until the last day when our paths crossed β¦ right when I needed them.
As we said goodbye and went our separate ways towards warm showers and dry clothes I realized that even though I'd been walking on my own I was never alone. I'd had the time and space I needed to reflect and reset but there was always a friendly face nearby.
I just had to pause and look up long enough to notice.
Have you ever spent time on your own? What was your experience like? Iβd love to know.
Walking forward with gratitude,
Sarah
PS - I am looking for five women to join the initial round of my new one-on-one coaching program called: βThe Art of Transition: Cultivating Calm in Times of Changeβ. I will share more details in future newsletters but if this at all interests you, reach out and we can chat more.
Trip of a lifetime. Love to join you one day. Your snack-reminding cheerleader will be ready to go!:)