Ever feel like you've been bitten by a bug you can't shake? Not the itchy kind, but the one that rearranges your soul and leaves you aching for more? That's me, post-2022 Camino de Santiago. I've self-diagnosed with PTCD: Post Transformation Camino Disorder. It's not in the DSM yet, but give it time—pilgrims like us are multiplying. If you're nodding along, fellow seeker, pull up a virtual albergue bunk. Let's unpack this "disorder" with a wink and a walking stick. After all, laughter might be the best blister salve.
The Transformation: From Ordinary Walker to Perpetual Pilgrim
Picture this: 2022, Cristina and I tackle the Camino Frances, 500 miles of blisters, beauty, and breakthroughs. I came back not just with a compostela certificate, but transformed. Physically? Oh yeah. I'm still rucking with a weighted pack, pounding pavement like it's the Meseta. My shoes don't last a year anymore—they're casualties of commitment. Mentally, my Stoic toolkit is sharper than ever. Resilience isn't a buzzword; it's embedded in my bones, thanks to practices that turned "one more kilometer" into a mantra for life. And spiritually? That's the ongoing odyssey. The Camino cracked open doors I didn't know were locked, inviting in wonder, connection, and a deeper sense of the sacred. Specifics? Plenty, but let's just say I'm not the same guy who started in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port.
But here's the rub. Transformation isn't a one-and-done. It's a lifelong hike, and PTCD is what can happen when the trail ends but the pilgrim in you doesn't.
Symptoms of PTCD: The Itch You Can't Scratch (Or Can You?)
PTCD manifests in sneaky ways, like a bad case of pilgrim's envy. Chief among them? A disordered desire to drop everything and book the next flight to Spain. It's not just wanderlust. It's a full-blown craving to lace up and hit the trail again. I blame the Camino influencers—those lucky souls living in Spain, churning out content that hits like a double espresso of jealousy. Shoutout to Days We Spend, Camino Tellers, and Alvaro Lazaga Busto on YouTube. Their multi-Camino adventures each year? Pure digital torture. And don't get me started on My Camino the Podcast—it's sweet ambrosia one minute, envy-inducing the next. I catch myself scrolling, feeling pangs of anti-virtues & vices I thought I'd left on the path. Forgive me while I stir my pot of jealousy, envy, and curse that green-eyed gremlin whispering in my ear, "Why not you?"
Call it Symptom One. I have a Camino Information and Influencer Addiction. (Maybe I should create a 12-step program?) I'm hooked on the stories, the scenery, the shared struggles. It's like reliving my own journey through a screen, but it leaves me hollow, yearning for the real thing.
Symptom Two I would like to experience, but it's not in my cards. Let's call it Late-Boomer-Onset Camino-Addiction. Walking one, two, even three Caminos a year? For some, it's a reality. For me? Not happening. My wise wife has vetoed the "move to Spain" plan, keeping me grounded in Central Florida. Thank goodness—just imagine me... a fully-retired, vagabond, wanderlust, gringo-who-speaks-Spanish, urban sketching and Rioja-aficionado-wino drinking my way across Spain, year after year. A case of bedbugs would not even phase me! It's not just Cristina's call that we don't pack up our American Dream and expat in Spain. I'm nine years older than she is, so I've chosen to delay claiming Social Security a few more years to ensure she has the resources she deserves—I kind of owe her a solid, after all, for sticking with me through my Air Force career and walking step for step on our good, true, and beautiful life-Camino, juntos!
But what is the core ache of my personal version of Post Transformation Camino Disorder? It's that tug-of-war between my transformed self and the old life I outgrew on the Camino. Pre-Camino me was comfortable, maybe too much so. Now, I'm resisting this cushy, yet somehow over-chaotic Central Florida lifestyle, striving to reorder everything into a new, pilgrim-hearted version. But bills, routines, real estate, traffic and Disney tourists don't always cooperate. What's a pilgrim to do when the trail calls but life says "not yet"?
Time for a Reframe: Pilgrimage Beyond the Path
I hit a wall recently. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I realized I can't continue like this. PTCD was turning my joy into jaundice. I just can't let my fulfillment hinge on another Camino stamp in my credential. If I never walk to Santiago again, my life still has to shine! Joder! Enter the reframe—my pilgrim's pivot.
First off, I'm staying "Camino Ready." That means keeping fit, pack at the ready. If the stars align and opportunity knocks? I'm out the door in a day, backpack loaded, headed for Spain, or France, or maybe Italy. No rust allowed, just readiness.
But the real gold came from contemplating the inspirations that got me on the Camino in the first place. Remember The Way, that Martin Sheen flick that helps tickle your Camino call? The parting scene hits different now. He's not on the Camino anymore. He's wandering elsewhere. Boom! Revelation! Pilgrimage isn't "Santiago or bust." It's seeking the sacred wherever your feet take you. Other paths, other horizons, same spirit. Real pilgrimage comes in many different ways and places. This book has helped me explore the seek-sacred urges bubbling up in my throat. Put Your Ass Where Your Heart Wants to Be by Steven Pressfield: Dive into this no-nonsense guide that transforms your inner call to adventure into actionable steps, proving that ignoring your soul's pilgrimage could be the real risk. Pilgrimage is a species of the hero's journey, and Pressfield's book is all about honoring the call, not letting it destroy you.
Badass Retirement by Robert Pagliarini: Unlock the secret to stretching time and amplifying life's thrills through bold "firsts," turning everyday routines into epic, Camino-like discoveries that make every moment count. Pagliarini says that "Novelty is what slows time down." So, if you want time to pass slowly and memorably, just like what happens when walking a Camino, you need to create firsts. That first Camino was for me, like stepping over one novel threshold after another. I fully understand what Pagliarini is saying here. You almost can't understand it, until you've lived it.
Then there's The Art of Pilgrimage by Phil Cousineau. I call it the mindset manual for turning any trip into a hero's journey. It's not just about miles; it's about intention, turning an ordinary endeavor into something soul-stirring. It's well worth the read if you're feeling something akin to my post camino disorder.
Living Pilgrim Effects: Right Here, Right Now
Reframed and recharged, I'm channeling my hard-earned pilgrim energy into daily life. No transatlantic flight required. Here's what I'm doing:
Weighted Rucks (Walks) as Ritual: I'm still striding out with my pack, wearing through a pair of shoes every year. I drink cafe's-con-leches. Each loop around Champions Gate? A mini-pilgrimage, building endurance and precious presence. Here's a dirty secret about how to stay on Camino. Continue washing your socks and briefs in your private albergue's ducha and hang them out to dry on your shower door. It only takes a minute and puts me right back in the Albergue La Morena in Ledigos.
Capture and Create: When something catches my eye like a quirky shadow, a bustling bird, the sunrize, I snap a photo. If it moves me deeper, I sketch it. It's not about art-school perfection. It's about pausing, observing, honoring the moment and digging into what moves me with a pen or pencil.
Share the Inner Journey: My real Camino happens inside me. I'm documenting a mental Meseta, that flat, introspective stretch of me where growth hides. It's mythical. It's archetypal. It's spiritual. It's definitely 'mental'. And it's very much alive on my local loops. ¡Viva la Meseta! That vast plain in Spain is truly a metaphor for life's plateaus, and walking across it teaches you how to embrace them.
These ideas are not cures for Post Transformation Camino Disorder. They're integrations. They help turn the internal "disorder" I feel into another calling, ensuring the sacred isn't only confined to Spanish soil. It's found in my footfalls between crosswalks, the sweat that drips from my brow, and the quiet revelations that come to me, even, on a neighborhood stroll.
Wrapping Up: From Disorder to Daily Devotion
PTCD might sound like a joke, but it's often real for those of us forever changed by the Camino. The envy, the addiction, the ache? They're signs we've tasted something profound. But we can always flip the script. Being a pilgrim can also mean carrying the path within, seeking the sacred in the everyday. Whether I return to Spain or not, I'm walking my way, one serious, valuable, splendid step at a time.
If you're battling PTCD, Reframe it, stay Camino ready, explore new thresholds, and make your own sacred paths. The Camino is never ends, it's just ever changing.
¡Buen Camino!
Lance v22,704, changing daily, and still counting.
