DEAR SEAN: 

I don’t get why you’re doing the Camino. Can you explain why you feel it’s necessary to torture yourself for spiritual reasons? It all sounds like Catholic self-flagellation, very medieval to me. Pointless. 

DEAR FRIEND: 

You make a good point. 

When you’re out here on the Camino de Santiago, God knows, you’re tired of walking. Tired of moving your feet. You’re not tired physically. Your body feels okay, mostly, except for the fact that everything—even the gray matter of your brain—feels like it has been drop kicked by a 19-year-old NFL draftee. 

You’re tired mentally. You don’t WANT to walk. You are no longer excited by the idea of walking. Walking does nothing to thrill you, spiritually. 

At one time, walking was a beautiful act. A way of connecting you with your fellow human being. With nature. With life. But now walking is an offensive concept. Walking is a dirty word. 

Walking is this thing you do because you HAVE to. Because you signed up for this. It is almost like you are in

the military now. Except you’re not a marine; you are not serving your country. You’re paying good money to do this crap. 

You are in the wilds of far-flung rural Spain, walking by your own choosing. So there is no one to blame for your situation but yourself. 

Your mornings start EARLY. You have no choice because your albergue du jour has a checkout time of 7:30 a.m. and you must evacuate the premises immediately so that an overworked, middle-aged, moderately depressed, Spanish man carrying a backpack vacuum canister can fumigate the entire bunk room for bedbugs, lice, and flatulent fumes, all of which you still carry on your person, within the very fibers of your clothing, so that you may re-experience these…