Maia

It's been a little while!

Since I last posted, I rescheduled my flight, canceled it altogether, and booked it again. I am considering rescheduling it.

My Camino this far has truly been a test of my patience, emotional and physical strength.

Long story ahead, and warning: the timeline may be screwy because I barely know what day it is.

Saturday, the first day I started, I wrenched my knee pretty solidly. I took a break, hoping it was just a small thing. It swelled and hurt.

After hours of internal reflection, I made the very difficult decision to go home. Changes in flight booking cost me $1700. I booked a hotel close to the airport because my flight left at 8:30 Monday morning.

As I was packing up everything, I was listening to music and thinking. And I realized I HAD persevered. All that training I did. All the money. Everything. It was all perseverance.

And there was no way I was going to throw that away. So I swore to myself I would see the Cathedral in Santiago. I was determined. I booked an uber to the local Decathlon (Portugal's answer to REI) and bought walking poles, new sunglasses (mine broke), electrolytes and a few other things. Then I took an uber to the hotel. I'd already booked and paid, so I wasn't going to waste a night of rest.

I got into my room and did everything that needed to be done; unpack, shower and laundry. Then I hobbled around looking for somewhere to eat. I got 3 km in and my knee swelled again. I went back to the hotel.

I took some ibuprofen and slathered my knee in arnica. I called the front desk for ice (ice isn't really a thing here!! There's no ice!!!) I set up pillows, elevated my knee and cried. I was heartbroken. So much internal strife. How was this happening?! How?!? I didn't want to go home. I couldn't. I'd done too much to get here. And I'd already canceled my flight. I was an ocean away from everything I knew. I had no return trip planned or booked. And yet... My knee says no, thank you.

So I talked to several friends. I searched my soul, I meditated, I tried to sleep.

And I knew I had to go home. So the flight was re-booked and I was scheduled. I wished with every fiber of my being that I would wake up tomorrow and all would be well, but my spirit was shattered and I knew better. This is soft tissue damage, which can take weeks to heal, and I don't have that time. I was leaving Tuesday.

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2:30 AM Monday morning, I finally fell asleep. My heart was heavy for a number of reasons and it was a toss-and-turn, can't-hit-REM sleep, not restful at all.

Still, my reservations came with breakfast. So I knew I had to be up early. I rested as best I could.

*********

This morning. Monday. I think. My flight is scheduled for tomorrow...but the swelling in my knee has gone down SIGNIFICANTLY. It still hurts, don't get me wrong. But I was able to make my plate at breakfast and move around with less difficulty than yesterday.

I have a tiny spark of hope left.

I finished breakfast and came back to my room to reassess the situation. Trip insurance would cover my flight if I have to come home for medical reasons. This means I will get the $1700 back, which I would then use to book another trip to Portugal in Spring of next year, after I healed. I just had to rest and continue training until then.

But I've come too far. I want to keep going. Part of this journey is about pushing myself. I don't want to cause any more damage to my knee, but if a couple more day's rest will get me back on track then I will do it.

There is A LOT that happened between all this, but that's the gist of it.

Current situation: Flight home is booked for tomorrow at 8:20 AM. My knee feels significatly better this morning, but definitely not 100%.

So right now, I have three goals: get to a doctor for an actual diagnosis (not just a poke and prod), decide whether or not to push on from there, and look at the details of my trip insurance. I can further test my knee by walking to the doctor, which is about a mile away. A very short walk. If it swells during that, pretty sure I'm going home. If it doesn't, I get a dx and decide once again from there whether to cancel my trip home and keep going.

So that's where I'm at right now. I didn't have the strength to write during all of this, so this is a short version and doesn't come CLOSE to the maelstrom of emotions I've whirled through in the past 24 hours. Czytaj więcej

Last night I made the hardest decision I've had to make since I let Gracie go.

For a year, I've felt the Camino calling. I've trained in all kinds of weather in preparation, from rain to snow to extreme heat. I've burned through three pairs of walking shoes. Spent innumerable hours doing research, and hundreds of dollars on gear. Made an emotional investment that was, honestly, more than I could afford.

And yesterday, 10 miles into my 300-mile walk, I was taken down by a cobblestone. Wrenched my knee hard enough to make it swell and hurt like a mother fucker (sorry, Mom). I didn't have walking sticks to lean on because when I'd checked where the local sporting goods store was, I found it was the exact opposite direction from where I needed to start. So I started without them, hoping a pilgrim would find theirs too cumbersome and leave them at an albergue (yes, that happens).

And I didn't have them when I tripped.

I made my way to the closest town and called a taxi to take me to a hotel. I checked in and hobbled to my room, cursing whoever snuck the extra rocks in my bag.

I threw my pack on the chair and lowered myself gingerly onto the bed, being very careful with my knee. I lay there for a while, tears streaming into my ears.

I tried to think but my heart seemed to have fallen into my knee; they throbbed to the same beat. I couldn't bear weight on it anymore, and I was pretty sure that wouldn't change in the next few days, or possibly the next few weeks. I was a crying starfish on an island of hotel bed, literally an ocean away from anything familiar.

I rallied for a bit, talking to my travel buddy Lu. What am I supposed to be learning from this? Was it a lesson in perseverance or in surrender? It could go either way.

I talked to people; friends and family both to get some perspective.

Was it pain? Or was it damage?

After a lot of time thinking about whether I even had the chutzpah to walk away from this, I made the second hardest phone call I've had to make since losing Gracie.

I called the airline. I explained the situation and after juggling my flight, the soonest they could get me out was Monday and that would be an extra $1700, plus whatever the fee was to get a rapid covid test at the airport. I would also go through 4 different airports so it wasn't going to be easy travel.

I tried to think through the disappointment and the haze of fear creeping in. There was no space in my "fancy" hotel for yoga. So I meditated. And I breathed. And breathed. And then I breathed some more.

I felt the hot flush in my face, the grains of sand that had crept between my eyelids and my eyeballs while I was crying. I felt the fatigue of the day blanketing me. I felt the blood rushing through my veins.

And I booked the flight.

I felt pain. Emotional and physical; I preferred the latter. It could at least be iced, taped up and I could medicate to help it.

But there was no salve for my heart. I sat with my new itinerary, hastily scribbled in the pages of the journal that was supposed to be the record of my thoughts and reflections for the next two weeks. Fat tear drops splattered the page, smearing ink I hoped I wouldn't have to read later. The picture of a broken heart and a broken spirit.

My Camino, supposed to take at least 16 days, lasted for 10 miles.

****
I slept. Dozed, rather, starting about 2 AM after an intense conversation with Jason. I got up at 6:30 and slowly began gathering my things.

I listened to music while I cleaned up for the day. And while I did, I felt that familiar rush I get when I'm about to do something big. I sat for a second.

Why was I doing this? Any of it? The training, the flying, the walking, the emotionally taxing thoughts that continued to drain my swiftly dwindling reserve? The definitive step out of familiarity and into the unknown? Why was I walking the Camino?

Because Gracie led me here. Because the Camino called. Because I couldn't find peace in the monotonous familiarity of every day life. Czytaj więcej