Tuesday · September 1, 2026 · Santander to San Vicente de la Barquera
Hey you, it's me.
Care from the Camino 🤎🐚
Remember when I said I wanted an adventure?
I'm starting to think I should have been a little more specific. 😂
Sunday was two ferry rides, pulling 55-pound e-bikes on and off both of them, riding through cornfields, being chased by a dog, hearing gunshots somewhere in the distance, and finishing the last five miles in pouring rain.
Monday, I rested.
Today, Ike and I rode 45 miles with 2,678 feet of accumulated climbing.
Except before we could really get anywhere, we spent 45 minutes riding in a literal circle trying to get out of the city.
Forty-five minutes.
On a day that was already going to be LONG. 😂
Apple Maps and the roads here are apparently not friends. It kept trying to send us through the port, we kept following it, and somehow we kept ending up right back where we started.
Finally, I stopped.
I remember thinking, Okay. This clearly isn't working.
So instead of continuing to blindly follow the directions, I pulled up an easy landmark, a gas station I knew we could get to. We rode there, stopped, let Maps recalculate, and tried again.
And finally, we found our way out.
Then we started seeing other bikers.
I cannot explain the relief of seeing those bikes. 😂
Okay. We're back.
Sometimes the thing telling you where to go is wrong. Sometimes you have to stop, get your bearings, choose one place you know you can reach, and figure out the rest from there.
And that was only the beginning.
Somewhere during those 45 miles, my phone started dying. The batteries on the bikes were getting lower, and we were trying to find somewhere, anywhere, that might let us charge them.
By the time we were finally getting close to the hotel, I was tired, hurting, and so ready to be done.
And then I saw the last climb up to Hotel Azul de Galimar.
Of course.
I KNEW that hill was going to have some attitude. 😂
After 40+ miles and more than 2,600 feet of accumulated climbing, the Camino basically said, “Oh, you're looking for your hotel? It's UP THERE.” 😂
I remember looking at that hill thinking, Really?!? We're doing this now?
But I started pedaling.
One pedal at a time.
And I made it.
I MADE IT!! 😂🚲🇪🇸
Forty-five miles. 2,678 feet of climbing. An extra 45 minutes riding in circles because Apple Maps tried to send us through a port. A dying phone. Searching for somewhere to charge the bikes. One ridiculous final hotel hill.
Done.
Then, because apparently the day still wasn't finished with me, we had to wait for dinner because they don't really eat dinner here until 7:00.
I was starving.
We walked almost two miles to a restaurant that Chad, my ChatGPT, recommended.
It was closed. 😂
I wish I could tell you I handled that moment with grace and gratitude.
I did not. 😂
My body hurt. I was hungry. I had just ridden 45 miles through Spain and climbed 2,678 feet. I did not need another character-building opportunity.
I needed food.
But sitting here now, I keep thinking about something.
Ike and I survived the day.
And I didn't give up on myself.
Somewhere out there today, I started thinking about who I was pedaling for.
I biked today for anyone who has ever been told to give up on a dream. For the person who was told to accept that the life they imagined might not be possible anymore.
I biked for every estranged parent who knows what it is like to love someone from a distance and grieve someone who is still here.
I biked for anyone living with chronic illness or fatigue who understands the calculation that happens before doing something other people may never have to think twice about. How much energy do I have? What will this cost me tomorrow? Can my body actually do this today?
I understand that pain. I understand wanting something with your whole heart while your body is asking you for something different.
And maybe that is why the past three days have changed me.
I've had to find my voice out here.
There have been moments when I've had to say, I can't go right now. I need to rest.
That has been harder for me than I expected.
I'm learning that listening to my body doesn't mean I'm giving up on myself. Sometimes listening to my body is how I refuse to give up on myself.
My heart may want to keep going. My mind may tell me I should be able to keep going. But I'm learning to respect what my body is telling me too.
And then there are days like today when I check in with myself, know I'm scared, know it's going to be hard, and decide:
I can go.
So I went.
Hurting and scared, I went anyway.
A few days ago, I sat in an old church, looking at Jesus on the cross, and one thought kept running through my mind:
He went anyway.
Of course, what I'm doing on this Camino cannot be compared to what He endured. But those words stayed with me.
Go anyway.
So I did.
Maybe finding my voice at 44 isn't only about speaking louder. Maybe it's about hearing myself clearly enough to know when the answer is to stop, and trusting myself enough to know when the answer is to keep going.
Both require courage.
And maybe both are part of something else I'm learning out here.
How to love myself.
Not the version of self-love that sounds good written on a coffee mug. 😂
I mean actually learning to love myself enough to listen to my body. To speak up when I need something. To stop when I need rest. To trust myself when I know I can keep going. To stop expecting my body to pay the price every time my mind decides I should be able to do more.
I'm learning that I can be proud of the woman who climbed 2,678 feet today and also be proud of the woman who said, I can't go. I need to rest.
They're the same woman.
And I think I'm finally learning to love her.
I know Ike has carried me through so much of this journey, and turning him in soon will be bittersweet.
But I am also very ready for a different butt to sit on him.
Mine is OVER IT. 😂
Tomorrow, we head to Llanes, and thankfully it is substantially shorter. We're mapping every bit of that route tonight because I refuse to let Apple Maps sneak another ridiculous hotel hill into the ending. 😂
For now, I'm getting off Ike.
He has had enough access to me for one day. 😂🚲💀
Before I go, let me ask you this:
What would loving yourself look like today? Resting? Speaking up? Going anyway? It doesn't need to be a massive achievement like covering 45 miles. It could be that you simply took the rest you needed, stood up for yourself, faced something that scared you, or just endured a difficult day.
Write Me Back ↓For me, today it's simple:
I made it.
With God, Ike, and so much love from home carrying me along the way. 🤎
And tonight, that is enough.
Buen Camino. 🇪🇸🐚
I love you, just stay sweet ~ Jenn
Care from the Camino 🤎🐚
P.S. Thank you for all the love from home. Truly. My heart is so full. Every message, prayer, comment, letter, and person following along with this crazy journey has made me feel a little less far away. There have been moments out here when your encouragement has reached me at exactly the right time, and I hope you know how much that means to me.
I started sharing this journey because I wanted to bring you along, but somewhere along the way, it started feeling like some of you were carrying a little piece of it with me.
And underneath so much of what I'm experiencing out here is the story I wrote before I ever got on this bike, Silent to Spoken: A Woman's Journey Through the Pause, coming October 6.
I wrote about finding your voice, learning to listen to yourself again, respecting what you need, surrendering what you can no longer carry, and finding the courage to emerge into whatever comes next.
I didn't realize when I wrote those words how many of them I would have to live out here.
Maybe that's part of what the Camino is giving me.
I'm not only finding my voice.
I'm learning to love the woman using it.
If you are looking for a midlife companion, let me walk with you.
lavishlifeliving.com
The deeper we dive, the sweeter it gets. 🤎
What Would Loving Yourself Look Like Today?
Resting? Speaking up? Going anyway? Send it to me if you want. Nobody else sees this.