#“Discover the Fountain of Youth: How Yoga Slows Down Aging”

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End of the Trail

As I sit on the train heading away from Santiago, my headphones on for the first time since I arrived, Capricho Espanol playing, a big grin appears on my face.    I look out the window and see the trees fly by as the train gradually converts my Camino experience from the present moment into a past memory, similar to when an artist brushes colors of what he sees onto a canvas and it instantly becomes an imprint of the past.  

It's not easy to explain what I feel.  In reality it is just a bunch of small experiences, images, all mashed together in a random dance of pictures in my head:  the day I started walking up the Pyrenees in the brutal cold rain; crossing the meseta (plateau) on a clear hot summer day; meeting Hannah and Theresa, and the Argentine guys;  sharing stories with other peregrinos at the albergues and at the dinner tables along the way; the snoring; the good food and the not so good; the guy from Zaragoza who was hiking part of the Camino with his father-in-law and ended up pulling the shirt off his back (a Real Zaragoza soccer shirt) and handing it to me as a gift all because I had mentioned earlier how much trouble I had finding a store that sold them. 

There were so many different and colorful experiences on the Camino.  I recall the not so pleasant experience when my knee went out on me and I felt an excruciating pain of pins and needles with every step. It made me start doubting if I'd actually finish the Camino.  Then there's the pleasant experience when, on an early morning walk, I stood on a hilltop, looked back at the valley, and was awe struck by the beautiful sunrise peeking from behind the mountains, its rays bouncing off the clouds above and dressing them with beautiful shades of purple. I remember the surprise and joy I felt when the Argentinians, two guys I met and befriended and who I assumed had passed me days ago, appeared from nowhere in the town of Los Arcos.  That joy of reconnecting was short lived, as they had arrived in town too late to claim beds at the albergue or in town, and they were told that they would have to continue to the next town 6 km away for a place to stay.  On the plus side, we did run into each other one last time - I have a picture to prove it.  I would soon discover running into people I had met earlier to be a very common and happy occurrence on the Camino, up to the very last day.

Traveling alone, mainly out of choice, there were plenty of times the voices in my head would take over.  Sometimes they came out as loud overpowering thoughts of doubt.  'You'll never finish the Camino.  Your knee can't take it' or 'Now your plantar is flaring, it will only get worse and you'll eventually have to bail out!'.  In the beginning, with many kilometers left, those voices were very overpowering, but in time I learned to tune them down and oftentimes simply ignore them. When I reached the 100 km marker, the distance remaining to Santiago, I completely muted those discouraging voices and replaced them with encouraging thoughts: 'This is it baby; I'm so close, nothing’s going to stop me now’ or ‘I don’t care if I have to crawl on my hands and knees I AM getting to Santiago! Yeehaw'.  Every now and then, even after passing the 100 km marker, my knee pain would start bothering me and once my plantar on my right foot ached pretty badly.  It didn’t matter because the voice of encouragement never ceased, but rather, grew louder and more determined.  Without hesitation I treaded on, straight into Santiago.  I had made it!

Those voices in my head weren't always about doubt or encouragement.  Sometimes they would be entertaining and would even come out in song.  When walking uphill, I'd entertain myself with 'Hale Borriquito...' (about a donkey carrying a kid to Bethlehem - don't ask). Or when I came across chickens, I'd sing 'La Gallina Turuleta' about a chicken that laid 10 eggs.  Plus there’s the song 'El coche de papa' about riding in daddy’s ugly car.  For some reason the voices chose Spanish songs from my youth and from growing up in Spain.  I guess part of the charm of the Camino is that you just don't know what your mind is going to conjure up next.

There were just so many experiences in this month plus long Camino - too many to list here and plenty to leave deep pleasant memories in me forever. These are memories of a Camino and a journey that exceeded most of my expectations.  So did it change me? Have I been enlightened in magical, mystical ways? Have I been 'born again'?  Can I leap tall buildings in a single bound?  No, not really. So what did I get out of it?  Well, for example it taught me to be more humble about the physical limitations of getting older in that I shouldn't think and act like a twenty something and go blazing up and down hills at lightning speeds with a twenty pound backpack, because at my age, something is bound to fall apart (in my case it was my knee and to a lesser degree my plantar fascia). Maybe I should have heeded the words often repeated by my old friend Kenneth - 'Fast is good but slow is also good'. 

Perhaps the biggest thing I got out of the Camino was that, although I thought it was very much about making it to Santiago, it was never really about Santiago or even about a destination, but rather about a journey.  In some cases it was about an internal journey, one that brings us into a deeper understanding of ourselves.  In other cases it was about experiencing the current moment, the Now, in a deeper, more meaningful way, by tuning out all the things that aren't really important, or at least not at that very instance.  It was also about being more grateful of life and of others.

The Camino taught me that many of the experiences I encountered on this journey are not unique to the Camino, that I could encounter similar experiences hiking, walking, traveling, doing yoga, or simply meditating on the couch.  But I also discovered what makes the Camino so special, unique, and magical is that it provides an all-in-one, one-of-a-kind environment for experiencing these things and more.  There are albergues, trails, directional markers, clinics, pharmacies, water fountains, bars and restaurants.  Then you have the support groups who, for over a thousand years, have been assisting peregrinos on their journey. And whether one likes to travel alone or not, one can find both solitude and company along the way.   I met people on the trail and in the albergues of all ages, cultures, beliefs, and from all parts of the world, who came to share in this magical experience. Regardless of where a Camino may start, it culminates in the very beautiful country of Spain.

It’s only been minutes since the train departed from Santiago and I am already longing for the next time: the next time I strap my backpack on; the next time I plant my boots on the dusty trail; the next time I spot a yellow arrow pointing the way; the next time I take that first step leading to Santiago; and the next time I wish a fellow peregrino (maybe you!) a Buen Camino!