For all my fellow sufferers

Day four of walking the Camino! Today was a short (relatively speaking) 17 kilometers. My back no longer really feels my backpack, and fairly soon into the walk my feet—grown tired (at last!) from begging me to stop pounding them down uneven declines—have a tendency to go numb(ish). However, today I thought my right knee would explode. When I got out of bed this morning I slipped on a compression band, sliding it over the already swollen bulge that is my knee cap. The knee groaned, creaked, and shot warning fires in protest. I explained (polite but mildly impatient) that there simply is no other way, that it was time to walk it off (figuratively) even though walking (literally) was the cause of its inflammation in the first place. It protested violently with every step. I argued that Spain was beautiful and the journey lovely. The knee remained unimpressed—insisting that I should go on without it and it would take a taxi and meet up with me in Salceda. I did what I could to drown the complaints with prescription grade ibuprofen and finally resorted to ignoring it—as though it were a petulant toddler instead of a legitimate bodily communication.

As I zig-zagged like a skier (thanks for the tip Hannah and Sydney!)  down declines in order to break the force of my steps, I began to think of the St. James pilgrim statues we have seen along the way. In many he stands solemnly—staff in hand—looking like part of the surrounding landscape; in others he looks like a joyful and active participant of the Camino, pointing the way to fellow pilgrims. However, I have seen one that depicts the famed saint resting on his staff; he neither points the way for others nor seems motivated to continue the journey himself. He is weary (and perhaps supporting his own enraged knee). The statue is supported on a pedestal, but he does not look down upon the passing pilgrims. His eyes are closed, his mouth seems to be partially opened, and one knee is bent so that no pressure is placed on his resting leg; he appears to have fallen asleep standing.

Somehow I found this statue to be the most encouraging of any I have seen; this portrays a man exhausted and struggling but persistent. I imagine others have looked at this statue and felt a sense of comradery rather than awe. The Saint becomes the equal and companion of travelers, the fellow sufferer of bum knees and blisters, the inspiration for the weary but driven.

This statue tells the story of any pilgrims walking the Camino who feel divided. Divided between the parts of themselves filled with curiosity and awed by beauty—ready (even excited) to push on, to learn more, see more, become more—and the parts of themselves that must be dragged kicking and screaming to the end.