Walking Into Wisdom: The Inner Journey of Camino Training – Part 4

The Rhythm of Self-Discovery

There's something magical that happens when you commit to walking, really walking, day after day in preparation for the Camino. Your body finds its rhythm, yes, but more importantly, your mind begins to wander into territories you might have been avoiding. The steady beat of your footsteps becomes a metronome for your thoughts that need space to breathe.

During today's five-mile training walk, I found myself sorting through a familiar loop of contemplations that seem to pop into my brain whenever I'm alone with the path. These aren't just random reflections, they're the deep work of bringing out the emotional side of this pilgrimage. In my case, my thoughts are like ping pong balls, bouncing from personal issues to physical issues and everything in between. From random thoughts to planning out solutions, everything is fair game. Some of this is like what wakes me at night, my brain going a million miles an hour, not able or willing to slow down. One thing that is different during these walks, working them out physically and not just mentally. Progress?

"I Am Enough" – The Hardest Lesson

Within the first mile into most of my training walks, when I get going and my pace finds its groove, the whispers about the Camino trek start. You know the ones - those voices that question whether we're really capable of this adventure, whether we belong among "real" pilgrims, whether we're too old, too out of shape, too something.

But here's what I've learned from miles of walking meditation: every step is a quiet uprising against those restrictive beliefs. Each mile completed is proof that I am enough. Not perfect, not the fastest, not the most experienced, but enough. Enough to dream this dream, enough to train for it, enough to trust that the Camino will meet me exactly where I am. For each of us, that realization will look totally different.

For my fellow pilgrims, this lesson feels particularly emotional. Society often tells those of us who are older that our adventuring days should be behind us, but our hearts know differently. Every training walk is an affirmation: I am enough, exactly as I am, to embark on this respected journey.

Mending Fences While Walking Miles

Something about the repetitive nature of walking alone unlocks the heart's storage room, where we keep all those relationships that need attention. During my longer training walks, I find myself thinking about the people I've lost touch with and why, imagining conversations with family members where pride or hurt has built walls between us. Which then leads to me wondering how things got to this place and asking myself if the status of these situations is something I alone can resolve? It’s deeper for me, deeper than I wish it was. While many problems bear culpability on both sides, it is challenging to not feel that is something you did to cause the rift creating a lot of self-doubt and even anxiety.

The Camino has a reputation for healing­-not just physical ailments, but the invisible wounds we carry. I'm already feeling this “magic” in my training walks. There's something about the vulnerability of being alone with your thoughts, mile after mile, which makes you want to clear the air with people who matter. I know that all this retrospection and even the actual pilgrimage trek may not provide the fix for it all.

If I have an “aha” moment, during all this deep thought, I take out my phone and record a note. In fact, I did that to help me write this blog post!

The Art of Connection in Motion

One of the most beautiful aspects of Camino culture is how strangers become family through shared experience. But how do you prepare for making those connections when you're used to walking alone? My training walks have become practice sessions for openness.

For years, I ran with a local running group, and I added one of my weekly walks to their calendar for each Wednesday. On the first day a few showed up to support me (and I was appreciative), and the next time one person came, but hasn’t been able to come back. I have 7 more Wednesdays before I leave and each time I wait a few minutes to see if someone comes, like that child waiting for the ice cream truck! But so far, I stay singular, alone, putting one foot in front of the other. I always acknowledge other walkers, joggers, and cyclists with a smile and nod. Sometimes a brief "beautiful morning" leads to a few other words. I'm learning that the same openness that will serve me on the Camino­-being genuinely curious about others' stories­-enriches my training walks too. I do plan to talk to people along my Camino – although I am alone, I don’t think I’ll be lonely! The Camino community is known for its welcoming spirit, but we must be willing to receive that welcome.

Joy in Simple Moments

For my walks I normally walk in a large suburban park, and below the path are fields where cows graze peacefully, and the river intermittently is seen between the trees. I confess to stopping there regularly, not just to rest my feet but to observe their contentment. Those cows embody something I'm still learning: the art of simply being present.

Watching them chew thoughtfully, occasionally lifting their heads to gaze across the meadow, I'm struck by their complete acceptance of the moment. They're not worried about tomorrow's weather or yesterday's regrets. They're just magnificently, totally present.

This is the joy I'm training for, not just the destination joy of reaching the cathedral at Santiago de Compostela, but the journey joy of noticing the light filtering through leaves, the satisfaction of muscles working well, the surprise of a butterfly keeping pace with me for a few yards, the small birds happily chirping from bushes along the trail. These moments of simple pleasure are as much a part of Camino preparation as breaking in my trail shoes. But I am also looking forward to getting that certificate!

Growing Pains and Growing Wisdom

Each training walk reveals something new about my capabilities and my limitations. Some days I surprise myself with my energy; other days, I'm humbled by how challenging a familiar route can feel, particularly when it gets hot early. Both experiences are teachers.

This physical training mirrors deeper growth too. I'm learning to listen to my body with more respect, to push when I can and rest when I need to. I am a fast walker, and today I tried to intentionally slow my pace. I am not racing on the Camino; I am savoring the journey. I'm discovering that the same self-compassion that helps me through a difficult walking day will serve me well on the challenging days of the Camino, and beyond

We have the gift of perspective that comes with experience. We know that growth doesn't end at any particular age; it just changes form. As I say, Adventure doesn’t retire – it rewires. The Camino offers a unique opportunity to step into an updated version of ourselves, and training walks are where that transformation begins.

The Wisdom of Acceptance

Perhaps the most profound realization from my training walks is understanding the difference between what I can change and what I must accept. I can build my endurance, strengthen my legs, and prepare my gear. I can work on my attitude, practice gratitude, and open my heart to whatever the journey brings.

But I cannot control the weather, guarantee I'll avoid injury, or ensure every day will feel magical. I cannot make the path shorter or the hills smaller. And that's okay, more than okay, it's exactly as it should be.

This acceptance isn't passive acquiescence; it's active wisdom. It's choosing to pour my energy into what serves me rather than fighting what I cannot change. Relinquishing control is something I work on daily. I am a self-confessed “control freak”. On the Camino, I will make myself trust that whatever comes, I'll meet it with grace and resilience.

Walking Toward Santiago, Walking Toward Self

As I write this, my legs feel fairly good from today's training walk, but my heart is full. Each mile logged is a mile closer to Santiago, but more importantly, it's a step deeper into understanding who I am and who I'm becoming.

The Camino calls us not because it's easy, but because it's transformative. And that transformation begins the moment we commit to the journey, not when we arrive in Spain, but when we first hear the call and answer it with action.

If you are considering your own Camino or other life-changing adventures, remember this: the path is as much about the preparation as the arriving. Every training walk is respected ground, every step an appeal, every mile a meditation on becoming.

The cows in the field have it right: sometimes the deepest wisdom is found in simply putting one foot in front of the other and trusting the path ahead.

Buen Camino begins now.

What reflections surface during your own walking meditations? I'd love to hear about your journey toward whatever adventure calls to your heart.

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