Day 10: Beer Cream
Today was a straightforward and easy 8.5 mile hike out of town then through the forest and into Pontevedra. I had a quick pace starting out and kept it up hoping to beat the heat that we were told was coming. Everything was firing today and it felt great. The trail was lovely and reminded me a little of Forest Park back home (the largest urban forested park in the US for those that aren’t up on their Portland facts).
Right around 5 miles in I noticed something that’s happened a few times since I ran into more pilgrims who are out for the last 100km; people expending great deals of energy to pass me or to try and keep me from passing them. To be clear, I don’t pass a lot of people and 99% of those that I do say, “Buen Camino” and we exchange a smile. There were a few today (and a couple yesterday before the hills stole my legs and my will to live) that were clearly pushing themselves to an uncomfortable limit to get by me on a wide trail with no real reason to push. Three of them I would then catch and pass on the next hill. My only strength is my consistency. The pace doesn’t alter drastically between the flat and the up (but I’m glacially slow on downhill). So they went huffing and puffing by on the flat bits and I would go back by them on the ascent. One guy (yes, no surprise here, they were all men) actually gave up on a steeper hill. He let out a huge sigh and slowed way down as I went by. I thought he might be hurt and I asked if he was okay. He said he was fine but was trying to stay ahead of me. Okay. I could have asked more questions but he seemed pretty irritated so I smiled at him and went on my way.
I’m really curious as to the reasoning behind their efforts. Perhaps they do it with everyone but I don’t think so. These same folks have passed me and then slowed down and not passed the groups in front of me that are going even slower. It could be that they perceive that someone with my body shape and age (I look like a deranged Santa Claus at this point. The beard has gone bananas, it’s snow white and very bushy) shouldn’t be able to keep their pace or be able to pass them. I’ve encountered this on quite a few 5K and 10K races at home, I just hadn’t seen it here before. It could also be that they don’t want to follow the sight that is me when I’m doing a Camino. There was a great clip where the late Sean Lock (a British comedian) was asked on a panel show if he could change one thing about himself what would it be and his answer was, “well, the front of course”. That was great. RIP Sean Lock. Anyway, with me the view from the back is…I’m trying to find the right word. Apocalyptic might work. The backpack (which I love and is super comfortable) is really squishy looking and sags. It has all kinds of straps flying around, none of them used or secured. All exposed areas of my back are sweat soaked, the shorts are soaked and riding low and I often have socks pinned to the pack so they can dry. Maybe they don’t want to have to witness the whole catastrophe for miles on end.
They could also be be intimidated by my ripped calf muscles. I’ve named them Shock and Awe (not to be confused with my glutes, which are Thunder and Lightning, thought you’d want to know that).
I made it to town right around lunch time and have had some time to get cleaned up and even do my laundry. I’m heading out to explore the city. I’ve heard great things and what I’ve seen so far is really cool. I’m preparing for the final 3 days to Santiago. I’m about 140 miles into the trek and it feels like this is the final push. The legs are holding up pretty well and despite my left foot having various taped parts and an ugly black bruise on the top I think it’s going to make it.
I’ve now got an entire afternoon to just take a breath, get an ice cream (or a beer, or an ice cream and a beer, or - do they make beer ice cream? Did I just come up with my second killer business idea on this trip?) and chill out. Tomorrow is a long one.
