A Note from Jenn 💌

Thursday · September 24, 2026 · Home

Hey you, it's me.

What if leaving isn't actually the hardest part of the journey?

I wouldn't have believed that a month ago.

When I was getting ready to leave for Spain, leaving felt like the hard part. I was leaving my family, Thor, my bed, my routines and all the little comforts that make home feel like home. I was getting on a plane to another country to bike and walk a route I had never seen before, and if you know me, you know I like a plan. Preferably a plan with a backup plan and maybe a screenshot of both. 😂

Then Day 1 of the Camino happened.

And I thought, Nope. THIS is the hard part.

I was terrified. The traffic, the hills, getting lost, wondering if my body could actually do what I had asked it to do. I remember thinking, What have I gotten myself into?

But something happened out there that I didn't expect.

The uncomfortable started becoming comfortable.

By Day 15, checking out of another hotel barely registered as unusual. Pack the bag. Send the luggage ahead. Get on Ike. Figure out where we're going. Try food I had never eaten before. Talk to people I had never met. Get lost. Find the route again. Change the plan. Laugh about it. Cry about it. Go to sleep somewhere I had never slept before and wake up the next morning ready to do it all again.

Every day was different, and somehow that became my routine.

I think that may be one of the things I miss most.

For weeks, I was exposed to something new almost every single day. I stopped expecting everything to feel familiar before I was willing to do it. I couldn't, because half the time I didn't even know what I had ordered for dinner. 😂

I got comfortable being uncomfortable.

And then I came home.

Back to my house. My family. My dog. My car. My kitchen. My work. My responsibilities. All the things I had missed.

I thought slipping back into my routine would be the easiest part.

Strangely, it hasn't been.

Because the woman who came home isn't exactly the woman who left.

Before Spain, routine felt really good to me. There was comfort in knowing what my day looked like. I could get in my car, drive where I needed to go, get back in, come home and move through my little world without interacting with much outside of it.

But after spending a month moving through the world differently, I'm noticing it now.

And yesterday I decided to walk to the store.

That's it. That's the adventure. 😂

No passport. No cathedral waiting for me at the end. No yellow arrows. No 55-pound e-bike named Ike trying to ruin my butt.

Just me, Thor and a walk through my own neighborhood.

And you know what happened?

I ran into a neighbor.

We stopped and talked while Thor became completely enamored with her girl dog. It was such a normal little interaction, except somewhere in the middle of it I realized something horrifying.

Apparently, the Camino did not prepare me for regular conversation. 😂

For a month I was a professional at talking to strangers.

Those questions could carry an entire conversation. And if things got awkward, eventually somebody had to keep walking. Perfect system.

Now I'm standing in my neighborhood thinking, What do normal people talk about?

We finished talking and she started walking away. I needed a closing statement, apparently.

So naturally I said, “Thanks for stopping and letting them sniff.”

🤦‍♀️😂

As soon as she walked away I thought, Why did I say that?

I'm pretty sure she went home thinking the woman who just got back from Spain is a little strange.

I'm blaming the change in environment.

But I kept thinking about that silly little interaction afterward because it probably wouldn't have happened if I had gotten in my car.

I would have driven to the store, gotten what I needed and driven home.

Instead, I walked.

Thor met a girlfriend. I talked to my neighbor. I embarrassed myself. We all survived.

And for a few minutes, my neighborhood felt a little more like an adventure.

Maybe that's part of what I'm supposed to bring home with me.

I don't need to recreate the Camino here. I don't need to wake up tomorrow and walk twenty miles through Orlando carrying a backpack. Let's not get carried away. 😂

I just don't want to go back to moving through my own life on autopilot.

I want to keep some of that curiosity.

I want to wonder what's around the corner. I want to walk somewhere I would normally drive. I want to try the restaurant I haven't tried. I want to talk to somebody I don't know, even if I apparently have no idea how to end the conversation. I want to leave a little room in my day for something I didn't plan.

Because maybe adventure isn't always somewhere we travel to. Maybe sometimes it's a way we participate in the life we already have.

And friend, maybe you need to hear this too.

Yesterday I made a post about there being 100 days left in 2026, and I've been thinking about it ever since. What am I going to do with those 100 days? How am I going to show up for them? Do I want to just go through the motions of my life, or do I want to actually live it?

Because isn't that the ultimate goal? To live a life we're excited to be a part of. To go to bed proud of how we showed up and wake up curious about what the next day might hold.

And as I'm sitting here writing this, I just remembered something that happened all the way back in January.

I was in the Cayman Islands, actually on the trip where I met my Camino walking buddy, Kristen. One night we were walking back from dinner when a golf cart slowed down beside us. The people inside offered us a ride, and her husband politely said, “Oh, no thank you.”

The golf cart drove away, and he looked at me and said, “What are you thinking?”

Apparently my face has never heard of keeping a thought private. 😂

I told him, “I was just wondering what would've happened if we'd gotten on the golf cart.”

Who were those people? Where were they going? What story might they have told us? Who might they have known? Maybe absolutely nothing would've happened. Maybe it would've just been a ride in a golf cart.

But maybe it wouldn't have.

He looked at me and said, “I've never thought about it that way before.”

I don't think I realized it then, but I understand it differently now.

So much of life happens because somebody says yes.

If I hadn't said yes to that trip in January, I wouldn't have met Kristen. And if our paths hadn't crossed there, we wouldn't have eventually shared this crazy, beautiful midlife adventure across Spain together.

That's what I want to bring home from the Camino.

I want to be more willing to say yes to the adventure. I want to know the story behind the person standing in front of me. I want to walk instead of drive sometimes, even if the only great adventure waiting for me is a trip to the store, a neighbor I haven't really talked to before and Thor falling in love with the girl dog down the street. 😂

I don't want to become so comfortable with my routine that I stop being curious about my own life.

It doesn't have to be Spain.

Maybe it's taking the walk. Trying the restaurant. Starting the conversation. Signing up for the class. Going somewhere by yourself. Saying yes when your first instinct is to stay safely inside what you already know.

Because sometimes the smallest yes opens a door we didn't even know was there.

Today there are 99 days left in 2026.

I have no idea what all 99 of mine are going to look like, and maybe that's exactly the point.

I spent a month following yellow arrows across Spain. Now I'm home, and there aren't any arrows telling me where to go next.

So maybe I'll follow curiosity for a while.

What do you need to say yes to today?

Buen Camino, friend. 🤎🐚

Maybe “good journey” was never supposed to end when I came home.

I love you, just stay sweet ~ Jenn

What Do You Need to Say Yes To Today?

It doesn't have to be Spain. One small thing, done differently. Nobody else sees this.

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