Pilgrimage of a Lifetime

After four physical therapy appointments — including dry needling, where my physical therapist stuck long needles into my buttocks and then hooked them up to electrical currents to send pulses through my ass and down my legs — and after three steroid injections into my spine and my ever-so-tight piriformis muscle, ready or not… I’m headed out on a pilgrimage.

A girlfriend and I are traveling to Spain to walk the last 100 miles of the Camino de Santiago.

If you’ve never heard of the Camino, it’s one of the most famous pilgrimages in the world. The Camino de Santiago, or “The Way of Saint James,” is a network of walking routes that lead to the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, Spain, where tradition says the remains of Saint James are buried. Millions of pilgrims have walked these routes over the centuries, and the Camino was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site because of its historical, cultural, and spiritual significance.

Some people walk the entire Camino — which can be 500 miles or more depending on the route they choose. Others, like us, are walking the final 100 miles, which is the minimum distance required to receive the official pilgrim certificate, called the Compostela.

And honestly? Right now 100 miles feels sufficiently ambitious.

When pilgrims finally arrive in Santiago, they enter the magnificent Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. For centuries, weary travelers have gathered there after completing the journey. I’m hoping when I walk into that church, angels sing, heavenly light shines down upon me, and perhaps most importantly… my piriformis muscle finally relaxes.

It’s been quite the roller coaster ride for my girlfriend, age 72, and me, age 70, to physically make this trip — a trip we’ve been planning for many months.

First, I strained a hamstring.

Then my girlfriend, who already needs a knee replacement, developed a Baker’s cyst behind her knee.

Then I took a tumble during the Race to Robie.

Then came the MRI findings: bulging discs, a piriformis muscle that apparently believes it’s training for the Olympics, severe sciatica, pinched nerves, and foot drop.

Between the two of us, we are basically a traveling orthopedic convention.

At this point, TSA may simply wheel us directly onto the plane and label us “fragile.”

Through all of our physical trials and tribulations… through all of our conversations about whether we should go or cancel… through all the moments where logic suggested staying home in stretchy pants with heating pads… the time has come.

We leave in just a few days to embark on this bucket-list adventure.

This pilgrimage.
This physical challenge.
This spiritual awakening.
This potentially terrible decision.

And yet, I can’t help but believe there’s something beautiful about going anyway.

Not because we’re perfectly healthy.
Not because we’re physically prepared.
Not because our bodies suddenly cooperated.

But because life keeps reminding us that there will always be reasons not to go.

And sometimes you go anyway.

So wish us luck as two slightly broken senior citizens with compression sleeves, anti-inflammatory medications, and questionable orthopedic integrity take on Spain one beautiful, painful step at a time.

Buen Camino!