Saturday · August 22, 2026 · Rest Day in Durango
Finding My Voice on the Camino at 44
Fear gets one day. It doesn't get to write my whole story.
Hey you, it's me.
I'm sitting in Durango today, resting and reflecting on the past four days. My body is grateful for the rest day, but I think my mind and spirit longed for it, too. Yesterday was challenging, yet my mind keeps drifting back to the first day.
That day, I tackled the toughest stretch of the route. I was worn out, overwhelmed, frightened by the traffic, and uncertain about what lay ahead. Eventually, I decided to call for a ride. As I got into the car, I saw the road slope downward, signaling that I had already overcome the hardest part.
I was so mad at myself. Not because I needed help; I'm learning there's nothing wrong with needing help. I was mad because I knew what had happened. At 44, I flew to Spain and started riding a bike across the country. Even typing that feels a little unbelievable. This entire experience is so far outside my comfort zone. I don't speak the language. I've gotten lost. I've cried. I've questioned myself. I've felt incredibly strong at times and wondered what the hell I was thinking at others. Somewhere between San Sebastián and Durango, though, something started shifting.
I realized I don't want to spend this experience trying to prove anything. I want to experience it.
Yesterday was hard. At one point, I paused to pray. Somewhere along the way, I named my bike Ike, and before I knew it, I was coaching both of us up that hill. The only thing running through my head was I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I kept pedaling, and when I finally made it to the top, I jumped and yelled, "I CAN DO HARD SHIT!"
That moment meant more to me than making it up a hill.
When I was 29, a doctor told me I needed to accept that I might not be able to live the life I dreamed of. I never forgot those words. Instead, I decided to keep moving, even if that looked different for me. That doesn't mean pushing myself until I have nothing left. Part of knowing myself now is recognizing when I need to stop. I intentionally built rest days into this journey because I knew I would need them, and today I'm sitting here in awe of everything that has happened in just a few days.
Tomorrow, I'll get back on Ike for another 22 miles, and I'm trying not to think beyond the next pedal. Maybe that sounds simple, but I spent years believing I needed to push through, keep everyone happy, have the answers, and make myself a little smaller when necessary. So no, this doesn't feel simple to me. It feels like growth.
I've spent the last few years finding my voice, but lately I've been thinking about what it truly means to use it. I think it means being honest about what I need, being self-aware enough to know when to pause, admitting when I'm afraid, surrendering what I cannot control, and finally allowing myself to take up space in my own life.
At 44, I'm learning that I have the right to take up space, acknowledge my needs, change course when necessary, and move forward even when I feel afraid. Above all, I am enough.
Fear will probably find me again somewhere between here and Santiago. I'm not expecting to come home as some magically fearless woman. I don't want fear making my decisions anymore. Fear gets one day. It doesn't get to write my whole story.
I don't have to see the entire road ahead of me. Maybe you don't either.
I'll leave you with the same question I've been asking myself: If fear weren't influencing your decisions, what step would you take today? What are you holding onto because you're scared of what might occur if you let go?
This is me, living Silent to Spoken in real time, finding my voice, one pedal, one step, and one stamp at a time.
I'm waiting on your note~
If fear weren't influencing your decisions, what step would you take today? You do not have to send it to me. Just say it somewhere. Even out loud in an empty room counts.
Write Me Back ↓¡Buen Camino!
I love you; stay sweet out there.
Sending care from the Camino,
~ Jenn
P.S. The book underneath all of this is Silent to Spoken: A Woman's Journey Through the Pause. It comes out October 6th. This journey is becoming a living reminder of so much of what I wrote about: pausing long enough to hear yourself again, surrendering what you were never meant to keep carrying, and finding the courage to use the voice that was there all along. silenttospoken.com
If you are looking for a midlife companion, let me walk with you.
lavishlifeliving.com
The deeper we dive, the sweeter it gets.
What Step Would You Take If You Weren't Afraid?
The thing you are holding onto because letting go feels scary. Send it to me if you want. Nobody else sees this.