Free Sunrises to Santiago: Searching for Purpose on the Camino de Santiago by Gabriel Schirm Page A

aching legs with olive oil! He is part of a larger group from
Brazil that we have seen walking together for the past few days. He
knows what he is doing as his skilled rough hands try to loosen my
tired tendons and muscles. It hurts, a lot, but I trust him not to
break me.
    At
first I am a bit nervous. This is a bit weird, right? Getting a
massage from a stranger? I glance at Amy who is bewildered, too, her
big brown eyes wide in stunned observation. A few other pilgrims have
whipped out their cameras and start to take pictures. As he works, I
am overcome with complete gratitude at such a kind act. I know he is
tired, too, and he is asking nothing in return. He does not know me.
Pure kindness. I am blown away as he spends 15 minutes rubbing my
legs. He doesn ’ t
speak English, and I just smile, clasping my hands to my chest and
say thank you over and over again.
    This
has been an absolutely incredible night. I resolve to be like this
man and spread random acts of kindness. That is what life is all
about. I honestly can ’ t
remember the last time I did something nice for a complete stranger.
So caught up in my own life and too busy to give someone I don ’ t
know a second glance. Sleep doesn ’ t
come as I am a buzz with thoughts of the day. I promise my future
self that I will work to be more kind. The lights are shut off at 10
p.m., and the familiar chorus of snores slowly rises and echoes off
the walls. But who cares? This is the stuff of adventure!
    In
the morning, my legs do feel a little bit better thanks to my
impromptu massage. It is 4:45 a.m., and I am still buzzing from last
night. I am surprised to see that most of the room in the albergue is
empty. The group of Brazilians and the Portuguese man who massaged my
legs are all gone. They got an early start. I peel myself off the
floor. My back creaks and pops. It hurts from using my backpack as a
pillow.
    From
the get go early this morning, we are focusing on physically moving
forward as after a few hours my knee pain returns with a vengeance,
absolutely screaming with every step. It has begun to collapse
without warning.
    As
I walk, if I step slightly wrong, it will simply give out, and I have
to catch myself with my walking stick. Sometimes almost falling to
the ground. This is not a good sign, and I know the fact that I no
longer use the leg normally can ’ t
be good. I am trying not to support my weight with my knee and keep
it as straight as possible when going up or down a hill. If I don ’ t,
a shock of electric pain causes an immediate uncontrollable protest.
I think over and over again, Should
I stop? Is this the sign of a permanent injury?
    The
serene Spanish morning unfolds as the typical early hour chill
quickly gives way to intense sunshine and heat. I am entering a sort
of delirium and after a few hours decide to listen to music for the
first time for some motivation. I cue up my iPhone with some upbeat
tunes and look around. We truly are in the middle of nowhere.
    The
wind is spectacular today as it blows over the wheat fields,
magically making waves appear on land. The music acts as a sort of
real life movie soundtrack. Hours
pass, putting one foot in front of the other as one wheat field
slowly melts into the next. We finally make it to a side of the road,
hole in the wall bar and stop for sustenance . We sit down as flies scatter from our table.
    I
am in a lot of pain and for the first time vocalize to Amy, “This
is bullshit! Let ’ s
quit, take a bus to Granada and eat tapas for the rest of our time in
Spain. Why are we doing this to ourselves? ”
    She
smiles and takes a picture of me instead of responding to my little
fit. She shows the picture to me and says, “Stop taking yourself so
seriously.”
    I
look pitiful. Toothpaste drippings stain my shirt right above the
right nipple. The sweat of the day has matted my hair like a feral
cat ’ s
coat. Every hair of my beard seems to point in a different di rection.
I am not in the mood for