The Power of 1,000,000 Steps
Via Kurt Koontz on Feb 4, 2014
Before taking 1,000,000 steps on the historic El Camino de Santiago in Spain, I didn’t give much time or thought to walking.
I drove to and from work and the gym. For business trips and
vacations, I flew. After retiring early, I pursued adventure travel,
often on a bicycle.
Then in the fall of 2012, I stepped off airplanes, trains, cars and
bicycles, and walked for 28 days and nearly 500 miles, from St. Jean
Pied-de-Port, France to Santiago, Spain. At an average of 17 miles per
day, I still walked faster than most Camino pilgrims.
But even with that push-ahead mentality, the Camino managed to teach me some lessons.
Walking forced me to slow down from my usual wheeled pace and to
revel in the beauty around me. Crossing the Pyrenees Mountains, I
listened to thousands of sheep on the slopes around me, their bells
clanging on air currents.
Across the flat Meseta, I passed acres of sunflowers lit by the sun,
their faces bobbing up to glimpse at me in the wind. In the villages,
storks stood sentinel on bell towers. In Santiago, priests chanted and
sent a giant incense burner swinging like a pendulum across the famous
cathedral.
Camino veterans say that the first third of the trip is for the body
Most Camino walkers suffer blisters along with other aches and pains
on the trip. My fitness regime and careful choice of shoes and other
gear spared me most of that, for the first week anyway.
On day eight, I had already walked more than 150 miles with no more than sore muscles. I felt like Superman—until one small blister taught
me to get over myself in a big way. I was shocked when it appeared. And
it hurt! The physical pain was irritating, but the mental anguish was
ridiculously devastating.
For 90 minutes, I tortured myself with worries about
disability before finally looking closely at the spot. It was a small
blister—just a soft bump on my right heel.
I bandaged the blister and continued walking for several more days
before fully understanding that my reaction was not about a sore on my
heel. It was about Superman coming back to earth and discovering he is
just like everyone else.
I realized that I can’t stop the blisters that life will deliver even
to me, 6’5″, physically fit Kurt. My best health habits won’t stop
every disease or injury. I’m going to have other physical and mental
challenges in the years ahead. Thanks to my Camino blister, I now feel
better prepared for them.
The uncertainties of weather and accommodations on a walking trip
forced me to let go of other expectations and disappointments. I carried
a change of clothing and sleeping bag in a backpack and slept most
nights in pilgrim hostels.
Some had room for just 20 travelers.
Others sheltered hundreds in bunks or beds packed closely together.
During any given night, a chorus of snoring rocked the house. If I had
tried to control these environments, I would have been a very unhappy
traveler. Instead, I appreciated the hostel volunteers and inserted
earplugs before bedtime.
Heaven became a hot shower and a bunk with room for my size 13 feet to hang over the end.
The middle section of the Camino crosses the Meseta, where the wind
blows incessantly and the miles stretch on for monotonous days of flat
farmland and villages.
This part of the trip, they say, is for the mind.
The Meseta helped me stop worrying about my past or my future. I had
6-8 hours every day to think about my regrets, including my
long-unconscious years of alcoholism. That reflection pushed me to
develop a new approach to the past. I tried to go in, learn, and get the
hell out!
I don’t want to be going to be anchored by some event or trauma from
my past. The same goes with the future. While hopes and dreams for a
bright forecast are always present, I also refused to walk with eyes
solely focused on the horizon.
When my mind got stuck—worrying about my relationship with my
girlfriend, for example—I used what I call my “Refresh” move. I created
this “move” to reset the moment. I would plant my walking stick in the
ground with my right arm fully extended and then proceed to walk in a
complete circle around it.
Maybe it was the change of scenery or the distraction from discomfort
and frustration. Maybe it was a sense of accomplishment from being able
to see where I came from that day. Maybe it was a trick to break the
walking routine. Whatever it was, this simple and effective move always
resulted in a refreshed and positive attitude.
The last third of the trip stepped into the lush forests and mountains of Galicia.
This section of the trail, they say, is for the soul.
For me that meant I learned to deepen relationships and celebrate the joys of life.
From the beginning, I treasured my fellow pilgrims. Ages 2-82, they
came from all over the world, with their own perspectives and gifts.
Massimo and his Mom from Italy reminded me how much I enjoy spending
time with my mother. Martin from Germany, who traveled as a mendicant
(without money), helped me count my financial blessings. Mikkel, 19,
inspired me with the postcards he sent daily to his young, handicapped
students in Denmark.
On one memorable night at a parish hostel in Grañon, I took turns
singing for dinner with pilgrims from around the world. After that
experience, I sang regularly, unselfconsciously, with my music player
while walking the trail. Sometimes my walking stick morphed into an air
guitar to accompany my blossoming vocals.
My refresh move alternated as a celebration move. When I felt
ecstatic, I planted my walking stick at the heart of the trail and
danced around it.
Pilgrims often liken the Camino trip to a life journey. We started
out helpless, not knowing where to go, sleep, or find a meal. Within a
week or so, we were like teenagers, thinking that we had it all figured
out. Another week, and our inward journey had us questioning
everything. And by the time we finished, we were joyfully content to walk more slowly, enjoy the scenery, and share the final days with our companions.
Back home now in Boise, Idaho, I’m pleased to report that my Camino
lessons have mostly stuck with me. I’m worrying a lot less and
appreciating small pleasures every day. My relationships are richer.
Questions from friends and family led me to write a book about my
Camino trek. Although many readers are interested in making the trip
themselves, just as many will never take such a journey.
I make the same suggestions to all: let go of regret and worry,
appreciate small moments of beauty, enjoy the people around you, and . .
. go for a walk.
Find Kurt Koontz’s book,
A Million Steps, at Amazon.com.
