Life on the Trail

“Okay God, spirit guides, Mary Magdalene, and all the angels, I need a little help here,” I mutter to myself as I trudge up the steepest ascent yet on my 200-mile hike on El Camino de Santiago Primitivo.

I start humming the tune from “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer,” you know, the one when the elf who wants to be a dentist is afraid to go and chase his dream?

“Put one foot in front of the other and soon you’ll be walking across the floor.”

Except I don’t want to walk across the floor. I want to be at the peak of this mountain.

I pass several other hikers who have tapped out. People whom I have met or seen at the Albergue’s over the course of our adventure. My two friends, Melissa and Gina, whom I have been on this journey with from day one are somewhere, but I can’t worry about them.

I’ve got enough to worry about on my own.

I readjust my backpack, whom I’ve named Lucy, and try not to pay attention to the poor souls who have decided to wait on a ride for the rest of this jaunt. But that’s not for me. I came all the way over to Spain to walk every freaking step of every freaking mile.

No matter what.

So, I do what I always do when I want to take my mind off of my current situation. I go inward. I start to think about what brought me on this hike halfway across the world in the first place. And, in the solitude of my walk, with only God and Lucy to keep me company, I admit to myself I needed to escape the brutal hours of the last two years. To celebrate the end of the pandemic, certainly, but also to escape.

Covid-19 changed the way I viewed healthcare and my job as a nurse. And not necessarily in a good way.

Don’t get me wrong, I have loved being a nurse. Every bit of it. Until, in the deepest reaches of my soul I admit to myself that I just don’t love it anymore.

Yet, nursing has defined me for thirty plus years. It supported my family, it allowed me to help other people during their worst days, and it was all I’ve known since I was 16 and got my first job as a secretary at a local hospital.

So, I ask myself, if money were not an issue, what would I do with my time? I like being productive, so I didn’t see that desire going away. And then my mind flits to the happiest year of my life.

My junior year of high school, before the responsibilities of adulting took away the rose-colored glasses. And the constant concern over bills, raising children, being a good wife, cooking dinner, and shuttling children were not anything to worry about.

My 16-year-old self was fearless. And she proudly drove a red Toyota truck.

And so began my new questions to myself. At 16 what did I want to do if I could do anything in the world?

And it came to me, almost immediately.

I would write. All the time.

Taking the next step up the steep ascent, I ponder this idea. Allowing the thought to percolate.

Okay, what would you write?

And again, as if someone was whispering into my ear, “Your stories. The ones nobody believes, but you can’t make up.”

Like my adventures as a bedside nurse and nurse leader. Those stories?

And like a bird whose wings are no longer wet, I spread my arms and look up to the heavens as the thought takes shape.

I could make up my own town, with my own characters and give them my stories. How crazy fun would that be?

And it's not like I have to tell anyone about it. I could just do it on my own.

And without another thought, I stop at the side of the trail and take Lucy off my back. I grab my notebook and my pen and begin to write. Jotting down my ideas, plot lines, stories I’ve told countless times that nobody believes but really happened.

“Everything okay, Leah?” Gina asks.

“Yeah, Gina. Everything is great. I think I had an epiphany.” I tuck the notebook and pen in the side pocket of Lucy where it is easily accessible. And begin to heft Lucy off the ground and back over my shoulders.

Looking over the side of the mountain into the valley just beginning to wake up, Gina replies, “Well, if you’re going to have one, this is probably the best place. See ya at the top.”

“See ya.”

And I knew at that moment that my life was going to change in the most unimaginable ways.

When people ask me about my trip and my writing, this is the story that comes to mind. I cannot explain how profound my El Camino pilgrimage turned out to be. How spiritual. How life changing.

How amazingly glorious.