Rising, on the Camino de Santiago

The day begins, senses dull from the previous day’s exertion, perhaps an hour before good light. Eyes held closed as long as possible as other walkers of the Camino are heard nearby, rustling through bags, dressing, finding a lost whatever. Each morning starts the same. This fight to put off the inevitable. Putting off the effort to get up from the bunk, wriggling out of the sleeping bag and finding your backpack, digging around for those clothes that smell the least. Then grabbing toothbrush and toothpaste to seek out water and become at least a semblance of human, presentable and hygienic. Only a half hour has passed, it seems forever in slow motion, dressing, primping, repacking for the day, and worst of all, strapping on those dreaded trail shoes before leaving the albergue.

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