In my eighteen years of existence, never have I seen a defined line on the bottom of my calf. Not only do my calves look defined but my whole lower body has become muscularly etched and old bumps are now strong bulges that carry me and my pack through the day. Growing up I always wished for the defined muscular body that our society pushed down our throats through adds for Calvin Kline or Abercrombie and Fitch, but lacking the drive to get up out of bed, I would settle on thin.

My mom, the healthiest person I know, runs for an hour everyday before the average person wakes up for work. I remember how bad of a mood she would be in on trips when she couldn’t run or exercise, thinking how off that was, how I would feel so much better on the days where I didn’t have to move. I didn’t truly understand that grumpiness until Pamplona, when I took my first rest day after three days of being in the hiking groove, and got that Saturday feeling, the one you get after a weekend when school or work becomes real and the fun of freedom drains from you. Since then I have only taken one break-day after our long (and crazy) 55k day where it was needed or my muscles would fall off.

In all this walking I haven’t felt my body break down. Sure it hurts after I work it but to my surprise it has only been good hurt. The kind of hurt that builds you, like getting your ears pierced, sure the stab causes tears but the pride and joy from decorating your body makes up for it. If my body is a temple then there are two daily meditations and a constant stream of people looking to pray at its alter. I try to clean up after them and throw enough coins in the donation basket to support it, but sometimes it’s just too much work to maintain. Although sometimes I can’t keep up with it, in its every day use it seems to be only improving and thus making me feel great. If I could only take one thing from the Camino it’s a greater appreciation for my body and how far and fast it can take me places. Thank you body!