I love my warm and cozy comfort zone. It is familiar, safe, and a part of my everyday routine. I love routines. I love predictability. But if I stay in my comfort zone, there is no growth. I recently heard someone ask his favorite cocktail party question (which usually sends people running for the bathroom). “What are you doing now that you are a beginner at?” Genius. If the answer is nothing and you are only doing things that you are good at, there is no growth. This struck me as a brilliant concept.
Since I have left my profession of 37 years, I have been a beginner at many things, most of which I have written about on this blog. At this particular moment, I would have to say that I am a beginner at blogging, maintaining this website, and promoting my message. I am a voice in search of an audience.
All of the things at which I am a beginner are relatively benign and well within my capacity. Getting used to cold water, or carrying a heavy pack, or writing. These are things that I have eased into from the security of my home and familiar surroundings. In other words, safe.
Yesterday, that all changed, and I am committing to something big, audacious, and unknown to me. I made my non-refundable deposit on my 500-mile walking pilgrimage on the historic Camino de Santiago de Compostela. You may be thinking (and if you read my blog regularly, you should be thinking), haven’t you already done that? I’m glad you asked. I did 110 kilometers (almost 70 miles) of the Camino in November of 2023 on the Portuguese route.
However, the original and most popular route of the Camino is the French route, also known as the Camino Frances. It starts in the Pyrenees Mountains and travels west along the northern part of Spain until it reaches Santiago. Pilgrims have traveled this route for over 1,300 years. I will be a part of that history, which has included kings and queens, saints and sinners. I am the latter and hope to become the former.
I wanted to get a better sense of how far that is, so I measured 500 miles south of my home in Leland, Michigan, and I would have to walk to Kentucky essentially. I don’t suppose I have any great longing for a walk to Kentucky, but back to Spain. I would need to average 16 to 18 miles per day of walking. I have only walked that distance once in my life, and it was only 15 miles, the last time I did this. However, on that day, I had a fever, sinus infection, and bronchitis. I’m not quite sure how I did it being so sick, but I managed.
Sitting here in my office typing this up, the trek seems unbearably challenging. However, millions of people before me have done it, so I figure I can too. I have been preparing over the last several weeks as I have contemplated pulling the trigger and booking it. Walking a little over 3 miles every day and two or three days per week, stretching it to 8 to 10 miles. In the next week or so, I hope to manage a 14-mile hike.
Why? It is a question that often comes to mind when considering such an endeavor. It is a question I have heard from several people when I have talked about The Way. It really is hard for me to explain in a manner that makes sense. As I wrote before about my previous experience, there has been a pull or a calling for me to return back to the Camino. It is an itch that won’t go away without completing the journey. I go to sleep and I think about it, I wake up and think about it, and I have become fixated on going back and completing it.
There are three primary reasons for me. First, I suppose, is the idea of joining millions of pilgrims over thousands of years on this historic journey. I like the idea of being part of that history and humbly weaving my story in with theirs. Second, I feel like God is truly calling me away from my routine, away from all commitments, on this journey so that I can better listen to Him. Well, couldn’t you do that on a retreat here in the States? Maybe, but it would be for a shorter time, and I would have all of the distractions of modern life beckoning me. Being in a foreign country, as an outsider, without complete mastery of the language, I would need to be more dependent on God than on my own abilities. That just may be the key.
I have had offers from people to join me, which I have declined. That would turn it into something different, a vacation, and I would lose the spirit of discovering my way. This probably sounds horribly selfish (and maybe it is), but I need this time alone. I am simultaneously petrified of that solitude and thrilled by the notion of it.
The third reason I feel like I have to do this is purely coming from an ego perspective. I have never run a marathon, done anything extraordinarily physically taxing, and as I begin my seventh decade on this planet, I feel it is time. It has taken me this long to muster the courage and, frankly, the free time to do it. I couldn’t very well drop my career and parental responsibilities to take five weeks to do something like this while I was younger, so here we are.
I am nervous. Day one is one of the most challenging as it requires the pilgrim to walk 15 miles and gain 4,500 feet in elevation. At first, that didn’t seem like that much elevation, but when you consider the dune climb from the Lake Michigan shoreline is 450 feet, you quickly gain perspective. I plan to depart in early April next year, so I will encounter a variety of weather conditions and consequently will need appropriate gear for all of them. Once out of the mountains, there will be many days in the plains, and others meandering through simple villages and majestic cities.
I haven’t decided yet what to do with Brian on Purpose during that time, but I am considering an app that can track my progress throughout the trip. As long as it requires next to nothing from me, I may look into including a link on the site for anyone who may be curious.
So that is my big, scary thing. A very long walk. It’s good to be scared once in a while. It’s good to escape your comfort zone and push hard. It’s good to have something for which you can look forward. And it is good to be a beginner at something at every stage of life.