The end of my journey

My Camino: 165.5 miles of walking

813 flights of stair climbing

389,726 steps total

21 days of Camino life

So, I walked a third of the total number of miles that the Camino provides. I avoided a lot of hills, due to my knee problems, but in that, still climbed quite a lot of flights. The number of steps astounds me most. That is an average of 18,558 steps each day of walking. On a normal day at home, I work to get a minimum of 10,000 steps a day. I sometimes go over and sometimes go under.

I am in a weekly competition on my fitbit called workweek hustle with about five other women. I got three times the steps of the person in second place one week, and I noticed that I am no longer invited to that competition. Haha.

I could have continued walking there. I could have done more. But, in my heart and my gut, I knew I needed to come home.

The journey home was a challenge of its own. I had to take two buses, a train, another bus, two flights and another bus to get all the way to PDX where my kids could retrieve me. I started at what was noonish on a Monday and got home at 9 PM Spain time on a Tuesday. I feel like re-entering my old life is akin to pushing a new baby back into its mother's womb.

I have experienced an entirely different existence than what I was living in Vancouver, Washington, in my posh downtown apartment. I was deprived. I was exposed to an entirely different culture of living that I never knew existed. Now, I would, very slowly go back to what once was my comfortable life. What would this expose to me?

One thing I have noticed is that I have what is for me, unusual patience, that I didn't have before. For example: when we got off our flight at what I thought was PDX, we were herded into a large warehouse like place and lined up to take pictures of our passports. Then we got into another long line to meet a border agent, who examined both the picture and the passport and asked us questions about where we had been and why we were coming back and what we were bringing with us, and who packed our bags.

After that, we were led into a big area where our luggage was, and I thought for sure that I would walk out that door to my kids and dog waiting in the car. Nope. I grabbed my bag, and there was another agent who we waited in line to talk to who asked more questions and looked at our passports again and then led us to a door where a bus waited.

I got on the bus, and honestly had no idea where I was or where I was going. The bus took us a short distance and then we went through a door that was in the baggage claim of PDX. From there, we could walk out the doors to our lives.

Normally, I would have been losing my shit to a degree that I would have needed intervention and talking down in the beginning of this process, but I think I have just experienced enough of life differently now, that I was fine. I just figured it would all end okay and I would get home eventually, and no matter what, I was NO LONGER IN Spain, so how bad could it be?

Spain was amazing and breathtaking, but I was ready to hug my kids and snuggle my dog. And that, I did.