Just Breathe
Just Breathe
by Jen Manglos | Seattle, WA
“I can’t do this.”
Downhill trails seem deceptively more difficult than uphill terrain because of the care needed to avoid slipping. It’s hot and I’m tired. I hate how sweaty I am, and I’m worried about finding a place to sleep tonight. This day seems never ending.
“I can’t do this.”
I hear God ask, “Why is that always your first response?”
This question stops me, and I realize it’s true. I constantly doubt myself, shut myself down. I’ve been told “no” so many times, and I’ve just rolled over and agreed, “I can’t do it.”
I cry at all the memories of “no,” the pain of rejection, the self-doubt. I want to be who I was created to be, but that “me” doesn’t seem to be accepted. These “no’s” have added up to me giving up on myself. The realization stings.
I hear God again, “But with me you can.”
I hate asking for help. I’d rather figure something out on my own than risk asking another person. They might let me down. I might seem incapable. But I can’t do this on my own. This walk. This life. I need help.
I continue to walk, breathing a prayer.
Breathe in, “Yes.”
Breathe out, “We can.”
Breathe in, “Yes.”
Breathe out, “We can.”
Two days later. My body is screaming. The pain and exhaustion are torture. How will I walk 12 miles? How will I finish this day? How will I walk this mountain out of Pamplona? I haven’t even started, and the day already seems impossible. I trudge miserably through the city. I eventually stop to drink water, take magnesium tablets, and stretch my legs—anything that might make me feel better. I listen to energetic music as the road rises. I breathe and pray.
“Yes, we can.”
“Yes, we can.”
Halfway up I take a break, enjoying a feast of meats and cheeses with friends as we sit on the ground in the shade. The food helps, but I fall behind my friends as we walk the last steps up the mountain. I put on music again and pray. The view is stunning. I can see Pamplona and am encouraged by how far I have walked. Step after step after step, I walk. My emotion rises as I approach the top and see the iron silhouettes of pilgrims on their walk. I weep. From joy. From surprise. From exhaustion. I made it!
If this is possible, then what else is possible in my life? My body, my soul is learning a new story in my walking. A story where I can. A story where I can do hard things. A story where I can do hard things with God. As I breathe these words, my heart learns a new rhythm.
“Yes, we can.”
Jen climbed that big hill on the Camino Francés. Learn more on our Camino Francés route overview.