Camino Training Revisited

Training for the Camino was a huge commitment. I had to explain to my agent why I needed to set aside five hours for a workout. I had to wake up before the sun rose, so the Sacramento heat wouldn't fry my mom and I like Tortilla Espanola. I had to walk the same trails ad nauseum to log the amount of miles we needed. And I had to explain to my feet and quads and ankles and back why I was torturing them when the Camino was still a year away. While some don't feel training is necessary (I have one super hero friend who decided to scale Mt. Whitney a week beforehand, while I'd been training for six months), it was an essential part of my Camino journey.

When I write a blog or a commercial treatment or an article, I always write a rough draft and then two editorial drafts before sending it out. Camino training is a similar concept - a time to work out the kinks, to tweak things, to reevaluate, to surrender. It's a period to get acquainted with your body and let it know what it's in for. It's the time when you assess your shortcomings and how to overcome them. A time when aches and pains morph into an impressive set of muscles. And when you come to realize that walking is more than exercise - it's a way of life.

I was brought back to this Camino prologue when walking the 10.5 mile loop around Lake Natoma with my husband (and former pilgrim) yesterday. While urban hikes were my favorite training grounds, Lake Natoma was where my mom and I first wore our backpacks for a proper trial run. Where we spent the night in a hotel to test out our gear, sleep accoutrements and sink washing abilities. And where I finally admitted to myself that I was really about to do this crazy 1000 mile journey.

Now let me be frank, NOTHING will prepare you fully for the ultimate Bildungroman that is the Camino. But with a little training, a little trail and error, a little throwing down of the gauntlet, the abstract notion of walking so many miles for so many days begins to take proper shape. It may scare you, it may intimidate you, it may leave you with ample blisters, but at least you realize you can do it.

And it's that attitude that means everything when for the 49th day in a row you must wake up at 5am, slip on your dusty, sheep shit crusted boots, drink a cup of coffee out of a vending machine, chew down a stale baguette (that wasn't very good to begin with) and march out into a cold Spanish cobblestone street with hiking poles in callous-laden hand.

Above, a video my husband made of a tree swing waiting for its summertime occupants on Lake Natoma. For more moments of peace check out his Zen Capture blog!