healing hurts

Two months ago my feet started to hurt. I had just walked 500 kilometers so it was kind of understandable.

Two weeks later a doctor treated me for tendinitis and told me to "be more quiet." I rested for a few days but then walked another 110 kilometers, so it was kind of understandable why my feet kept hurting.

But in the last month, since returning to the U.S., I have done a much better job of being quiet. So why do my feet still hurt?

I went to the hospital yesterday to find out.

Doctors are adorable when they get excited, so I had to laugh at mine when he said, regarding my x-rays, "Come check this out!"

He pointed out the broken bone.

But that wasn't the cool part.

The cool part was the new bone growth. Developing on both sides of the fourth metatarsal. Which nearly doubled the width of this bone. (No wonder my foot feels swollen!)

He said this is exactly what you want to see happen after a broken bone. That the healing process is progressing as it should. That I shouldn't go home and run, but I could walk as much as my foot says is okay.

Hooray!

I could talk now about how, just like my broken bone, we grow and develop and become stronger through times of trial. Putting a positive spin on the adversity that is simply part of life. But I think that denies a key point: healing hurts.

We expect to hurt at the moment an injustice occurs. A bone breaks. A loved one dies. A marriage ends. But after the point of impact we think the pain should go away. Immediately. And if it doesn't go away immediately we must be doing something wrong.

Only that isn't the case.

In reality, we continue to hurt through the healing.

Eventually it might go away. Or lessen. Maybe it will come and go with a memory, anniversary, or the rain. Or maybe it doesn't go away at all and we simply learn to live with the pain.

Regardless of what the future brings, I think it is okay to tell the truth today: healing hurts.

Day 63

Day 63: Home

• Flight from Philadelphia to Ohio
• Dinner with my parents
• Baseball practice with my brother, nieces and nephew
• Walk with my dog
• Wine and conversation with my sister-in-law Kari, followed by her reminding me that the tendinitis in my foot may be better but the stress fracture is not going to heal itself if I keep walking my dog

Yep, I'm officially home! 

And for the next few days you can find me dutifully resting on the couch. Reading a book (2 months without reading... I have a lot of catching up to do!). And eating peanut butter (can you imagine 2 months without peanut butter?!).

Thank you all for being a part of my journey! For walking with me across Spain. For opening your hearts to the highs and lows of this adventure. And bravely following whatever dream God is calling you to in your own life.

Animo! (You can do it!)

Ultreia! (Walk on!)

Buen Camino!! (Have a good journey!)

Day 4

Day 4: Roncesvalles to Espinal - 6.5 km

As I made my final descent out of the Pyrenees mountains on Friday, I knew I didn't want to hike the 22 km to Zubiri on Saturday like I had originally planned. I needed time to see how my body had fared the 9 km in waist-deep snow. Time to thank God for keeping me safe, and for the opportunity to explore the Pyrenees as I had so hoped to do in the planning of this trip. Time to reflect on the adventure. Time for selah--to pause and calmly think on that!

So I "slept in" on Saturday morning (8:30 has never felt so good!). Took a hot shower. Put on my least sweaty clothes. Went downstairs (I slept above a cafe) and had an Americano (which I think is Spanish for "Americans who can't drink straight espresso") and a "tortilla" (traditional Spanish breakfast - ham and cheese on a baguette). Repacked my bag. Tied my still-wet-from-the-snow boots to my pack. And had my picture taken in front of a sign declaring Santiago 790 km away.

Leaving Roncesvalles, the Camino wanders through the woods (mostly beech trees) for 3 km before entering the tiny town of Burguete, where Ernest Hemingway often stayed. In one of the hotels there is a piano bearing his signature. Unfortunately, because of my late start, I arrived in Burguete just in time for "siesta", so everything was closed. Except one little restaurant where I was served asparagus with mayonnaise, medallions cut from "el toro", chips (french fries), and the traditional bread, wine, and water served with every lunch and dinner.

Wine at midday is only recommended when you aren't walking far. The 3.5 km beyond Burguete were slow and sleepy, and beautiful, taking me along a cow path, through pastures and woods, over streams, with the Pyrenees still visible in the distance.

I then arrived in the tiny town of Espinal, where I was drawn to the Church of Saint Bartholomew. It was locked tight, but right next to it was an idyllic place named "Irati." I inquired about a room. An apartment, the woman said. 25 euros. I would only pay 10 at a hostel, but felt like I deserved an upgrade for the night. I assure you it is worth it!

Not only do I have my own room, and shower, and living room, and kitchen. But I also have access to a washer and dryer! I have never been so thankful to be able to wash and dry my clothes! As I write this I am wearing a dress--the only piece of clothing I have that is still clean--while my sweat and snow soaked clothing gets washed.

Meanwhile, I have taken time to celebrate the adventure in the Pyrenees. Looking up at the mountains in the distance I keep thinking, "I did that! Me!!" It is definitely among my most challenging accomplishments to date.

My legs are a little sore, especially the hip flexors (from yanking my legs out of the snow with every step!), but they actually feel better when I'm walking. So I am confident that I'm ready for the 16 km to Zubiri I have ahead of me. Because tomorrow, once again, we walk!

today is the day

Today is the day!!

Six months ago today "I" came up with this crazy plan to walk across Spain for Lent. It felt like a long time then, but now I can't believe how fast and full it has been. The preparation has been as much mental, emotional, and spiritual as it has been physical. And I imagine being stretched in all those ways over the next 52 days. 

I keep thinking back to the mantra we came up with to guide us this year:

Today I will be brave, honor my commitments, explore life to the fullest, enjoy the journey, and take time to selah--pause and calmly praise God for that.

We are certainly fulfilling that prophecy!

Today I feel brave. Today I am honoring my commitment to this journey. I will explore. I will enjoy. I will selah. And it all begins at 3:55 p.m. when I board a plane in Columbus, Ohio, make a quick stop in Philly, and wake up tomorrow in Madrid.

In the meantime, I had one last family dinner, tucked in my nieces one last time, hugged my brother and sister-in-law, kissed my nephew and my boyfriend, took one last walk with Jovi this morning, paid one last bill, saw one last Ohio sunrise, and will have one last lunch with my parents before I say goodbye for almost 8 weeks.

It is my hope that I will be able to continue to blog and update you each day, probably in the early afternoon for you eastern time zone folk (I'll be 6 hours ahead). But who knows what the coming days will hold! Regardless, I promise to walk with you and your prayers. Thank you for walking with me and mine.

Going to miss my walking buddy Jovi!

One last Ohio sunrise

ouch

Ice is slippery. Falling on it hurts.

Walk With care.

patience in listening

Yesterday I was on the treadmill watching the History channel (Did you know that Zachary Taylor died of cholera? Weren't we just talking about cholera? Zach was a president by the way.) when Mr. P walked into the weight room.

My heart sank a little bit.

You see, I love Mr. P.

And Mr. P loves me.

But Mr. P and I have very different philosophies about the gym.

Mr. P's philosophy is 'if you can't socialize at the gym what is the point'. Whereas my philosophy is 'why would I want to make friends when I'm all sweaty and so are you'.

I was just hitting my stride on the treadmill when Mr. P told me I was "going nowhere fast", followed by the same repertoire of jokes, family stories, and life's accomplishments he regales me with each and every time we meet.

They are great stories. Mr. P has had an amazing life and has incredibly talented children to show for it. But I just wish he could remember a new story every now and again.

There is no escaping Mr. P once he gets started. So I Walked With Mr. P and his stories and did my best to smile and look as interested as I had the first time I'd heard them.

And that's when Mr. P changed the game.

Out of nowhere he broke into song. Song! A good morning song about the sun shining down on a magnificent girl named Katie.

Which made me smile a real smile. Perhaps my first of the day.

All because an 80-year-old guy found something new to say. Which I would have missed if I hadn't let him tell me all his same stories and all his same jokes.


There are many times when I am quiet, many times when I don't want to write or talk or preach, because I fear I have nothing new to say. But maybe that is normal. Maybe I'm just warming up to something new to say...to anyone who has the patience to really listen.

lengthening days

Good news! The days are getting longer!!

The change is subtle. Gradual. You may tell it by how the sky looks when you go to work and drive home. Or when the kids get on the bus and when they go to bed. For me, who Walks With the rhythms of the sun, I can tell the change by when I wake up for my first daylight walk and when I slow down to take my last.

Gone are the days of the sun waking me at 7:45 and setting before dinnertime. Here are the days of 7 a.m. pinks and after dinner sunset walks.

Which can only mean one thing. (Don't let the snow and ice fool you!)

SPRING IS COMING!!

7 a.m. view from my bedroom

6 p.m. view from my walking path

giving keys

My sister-in-law Kari gave me the coolest birthday gift: a giving key.

The idea behind the key is that I'm supposed to "pay it forward", to give the key away to someone who needs the word inscribed on it. My key word, naturally, is "EMBRACE".

Immediately upon receiving the gift I had a vision of Walking With the key across Spain and laying it at the foot of the iron cross--Cruz de Ferro--which I will reach approximately 5 weeks into my journey. It's where others leave rocks from home, rings from failed engagements, and other "stones" to symbolize a shedding of burdens and leaving behind of what no longer serves you, in order to be open to new life and the last part of the journey.

The thing about "EMBRACE", my word of the year in 2013, is that I began to feel possessive of it after 365 days of carrying it around in the forefront of my mind. So any time it appeared in a book or a movie, a blog or conversation, it was as if I had been the impetus. As if the word had not even been called into existence prior to my declaring it "my" word of 2013.

And so the shedding of this layer/key/burden that I carry would be a symbol of letting go of this singular vision. In favor of Walking With all the other words and books, opportunities and acquaintances who share this journey with me. Leaving the past where it belongs in favor of all that makes up my future.

Instead of giving the key to one person, I would symbolically be giving it to all persons. Inviting each and every one to join me in laying down selfishness in favor of community.

And maybe this is exactly how it will play out. Or maybe there is ONE who needs this word-key for him or herself and I'll know it immediately. Time will tell.

As I said yesterday, it is good to have visions and expectations. AND to be able to lay them down if life has other plans.

cancer

In honor of World Cancer Day, many of my Facebook friends "purpled" their profile pictures this week. Even more impacting for me were the people who then added their stories--their personal "why" behind the purple.

It reminded me that a month ago I was doing a 5k walk on a cruise ship with 30 or so others who had been impacted in some way.

While cancer is not prevalent in my family, it still feels important to make a stand against this disease and its effects on our world. Not just on our physical health, but also on our spiritual, mental, and emotional well being.

On the last day of our cruise, as we were going through the disembarkation process, I got to chatting with a 79-year-old couple. They heard me yell "Happy Birthday" to my grandma as we said our goodbyes. I told the couple there were 10 of us who came together to celebrate grandma's 80th birthday.

"We'll be 80 too," they said. "We wanted our family to come with us on the cruise, but our daughter had her last round of chemo this week."

"I did the 5k yesterday," I told them. "There were a few survivors who did the walk as well. And lots of loved ones."

"Thank you," they said, the woman with tears rolling down her cheeks. "It makes a difference."

"I'll pray for your daughter," I said. "And her kids, husband, and you."

Even with the emotion evident on their faces, I could see how brave they were. How strong and determined this journey with cancer had made them.

To all who Walk With cancer in some way, I pray that each one of you will experience a miracle in some way. Thank you for being brave in the midst of adversity, light in the midst of darkness, and agents for change.

layers

It is cold outside.

But I'm committed to walking.

Even though I have a broken toe. And arthritis.
Even though there is snow. And ice.

So here is my very simple secret to surviving a walk in the winter:

Walk With Layers.

I have something to offer?

It sounds like something you would read on a fortune cookie:

"You will bring something to the people you walk with." 

But Mr. L said it to me--ME--while we were chatting on the phone yesterday.

He was telling me about his experience walking el Camino de Santiago--nearly 500 miles across Spain. The food he ate. The blisters he popped. The lifelong friends he made. The woman longing for intimacy with God. The man about to get married who wanted to take a month to think about the responsibility of being a husband and father (his wife is one lucky lady!!).

And then, in reference to my own upcoming journey, he said those fortune cookie words:

I honestly had never considered that one of the reasons I am called to this journey, and called to it now, is because I have something to offer the people I will walk with. I fully expect to learn from them and learn from God and learn about myself. But to stop and realize that I have something to offer? It feels like a huge responsibility! And one I am nervous and excited to take on. 

So for the next month (only a month until I leave?!! Can you believe it?!!) I'll be praying over that responsibility, as well as praying for those I will walk with. Will you join me?

commitment, take 2

"You are a brave soul," the woman with a cold said as I walked into the YMCA at 8:30 yesterday morning to get in a workout. My car registered negative 10 degrees and was one of few in the parking lot.

"I'm trying," I said, thinking about yesterday's blog on bravery.

But the truth was, my showing up to exercise had nothing to do with bravery. And everything to do with commitment.

I went to the gym because I'm committed to being healthy, now and for my future. And because I'm committed to walking across Spain this year.

And I was brave yesterday with my nieces because I'm committed to them, to loving them, protecting them when they are on my watch, and encouraging their curiosity, energy, and spiritual growth.

I've previously thought that I had to be brave in order to commit, but now I see that it also works the other way around. Commitment makes you brave, and makes others see you as brave. It gives you the courage to do things that are scary or hard or even dangerous.

Perhaps I will be less intimidated by this word--commitment--if I can see it as a source, an inspiration, for being brave.