For a few years in my late 20s and early 30s I suffered from periodic debilitating severe back pain. It nearly did me in, and I think Terry was wondering what life was going to be like married to a disabled man. During one really bad episode I was stuck on the floor of our apartment for about three weeks, it was all I could do to make it to the bathroom, and my life's goal was to be able to sit upright in a chair. When I was finally able to walk, I took a 15 minute stroll in our lower-middle class neighborhood in Oakland, which wouldn't have been a particular destination for beauty seekers. But after what I had been through I thought there couldn't have been a more gorgeous place on earth. I have a distinct memory of the look and smell of the flowers and the feel of the sun and breeze on my arms. It was transcendent and unforgettable.

Though there are a few lucky souls who seem to be dancing along the Camino in shoes made of cloud springs, most people are suffering to various degrees. Sore muscles, knee or hip pain, sore shoulders or backs, and there's more talk about feet than a foot fetishist would dream of. And yet most people seem happy to be doing it and keep on trucking, myself included.

I've been pondering the relationship between pain and suffering on the one hand, and joy and the perception of beauty on the other. Is it possible that I might I be having such an amazing experience because of my pain, rather than despite it? It makes it easier to appreciate the contrast, but is it necessary? I'd like to believe it's not.

Today's walk, joy and pain, was a little over 13 miles including getting to my hotel, mostly on thankfully relatively flat and easy dirt and gravel paths alongside a two lane highway, through rolling farmland, four picture-perfect villages, past beautifully proportioned medieval churches, and past a flock of sheep so close together that I wondered how they could possibly move, and even in those conditions I watched two males mounting females. Stopped at an albergue for refreshment, where roosters, chicks, dogs and cats were running all over the place. And stepped into a couple of churches that were cool and dark, a momentary respite from the strong sun.

After several days of winging it, I reserved a room in a hotel in Carrion de Los Condes for tonight. The downside is that it turned out to be about 3/4 mile past the center of town and I was really ready to stop walking (and I'll have to walk for dinner), but the upside is that it's glorious, a converted huge 16th century monastery with great shaded grounds with old trees. My room, simple but beautiful, has French doors that open onto a view of the geometric courtyard with cypress trees and a fountain. It's kind of a dream place for me. And it's cheap. Terry I wish you were here!

Oh, about that back pain. I tried lots of stuff, doctors, swimming, floor exercises, yoga, meditation, creative visualization, chiropractors, anything. Turned out what solved the problem for me was walking, with some visualization thrown in. I started walking 30+ years ago and never stopped. I don't want to jinx anything by saying it, but except for a couple of weeks in 1997, my back hasn't bothered me since. And the walking has led me here.