My Simple 700,000 Step Program to Better Living

15 days hiking the Camino de Santiago, Portuguese Way

In August 2023, I had spent more than a year away from the stress of work, and to be honest, I hadn’t really been all that productive with my time.

Be productive, Allen! Be industrious, Allen! Make every minute count! You can’t retire only to spend your time deteriorating on the couch! Move!

My idealized self wanted to read a ton of books. He flirted with reskilling as a Salesforce admin. He thought about starting a business of his own. He thought about getting in the shape of his life. All of these aspirational activities were premature.

Confession: in that first year, I really just wanted to take one long nap. I became greedy with my time. I really didn’t want to do anything.

But it can be scary being left to our own devices—alone with ourselves. We can no longer blame the office for our anxiety and stress, and we soon realize that many of life’s problems were never really about that shitty job.

A fellow FIRE blogger, Mr. Shirts, once told me (about early retirement) - “It’s the first time in your life that you haven’t had someone else telling you what to do. Give yourself some time.”

Sage advice. I needed some time, but I was dissatisfied with how I was spending it.

O Camino!

I decided to go for a walk—a really long walk. And so I booked a flight to Porto, Portugal in order to hike the Camino de Santiago.

I began my Camino for the wrong reason - to show the world that I wasn’t just wasting away on my couch. “Look at me, everyone, I’m walking the Camino. How exciting, right?”

One of many storybook moments on the Camino Portuguese

If you don’t love me, I don’t love me

During the early stages of my walk, I was spamming social media with amazing landscapes and missives about life on the trail. In the evenings, my ego would snack on the positive feedback from friends and family.

A few days in, I realized that I wasn’t hiking on a path of self-discovery. I was working. And my compensation was a few empty shots of dopamine each night.

I was asking friends and family to see my experiences and to love me—to validate me. And that wasn’t healthy.

From that moment on, I took in less of my hike through the lens of my phone and spent more time just being in the moment. I worried less about being loved through the eyes of friends and family and focused more on loving the person I was—on validating him through my own eyes.

My 200-mile hike from Porto, Portugal to Santiago, Spain ended quietly but with a measure of satisfaction at this lesson. In the months of planning, training, and backpacking, I learned a few other things too.

“One day” only happens if you make it happen

Leading up to my hike, I researched many of the online forums and groups for tips. I got a lot of great advice, but my most valuable takeaway was just an observation of the sheer number of people beginning their posts with “One day I hope to do the Camino.”

I could relate. It was difficult for me to envision a time in my own life when the Camino made sense. I had a lot of commitments as a son, father, and husband. I felt the ever-increasing weight of responsibility for… well, everything.

As I started to see a pattern of people forever in the planning stage, and noting my own hesitations, alarm bells went off. It was a wake-up call. This was never going to happen unless I made it happen.

So instead of choosing feelings of despair, I decided to make a firm date and book the flights. Life’s happenings would just have to bend around those plans.

There’s always a reason to say “I can’t,” or “It’s not a good time for that.”

In retrospect, it wasn’t a great time for that. Some pretty dramatic things happened while I was hiking in Europe, but the world didn’t stop. Problems were solved without me—and it all worked out anyway.

A pretty stretch through a vineyard in northern Portugal

Perfect is the enemy of good, and it’s also expensive

I spent hours researching the perfect backpack, shoes, gear, and clothing for my hike. After 50+ years of living, I already had a lot of stuff that was pretty good for this hike, but I still spent $1000 on yet more stuff that I considered perfect.

I had a $50 TETON backpack that was probably fine, but the new $200 Osprey was a bit lighter and highly recommended.

I had plenty of dry-fit shirts and socks, but I stocked up on $200 worth of Merino wool because that was supposed to be superior.

In retrospect, I don’t know that my experience was made dramatically better with all of that perfect gear. One guy from the UK hiked with his school backpack, about 10 lbs of extra camera equipment, and wore striped cotton gym socks. The smile on his face was just as big as mine.

Maybe all I really needed was about $70 for a decent pair of shoes.

If you wait until you’re ready, you’ll never begin

We carry our fears like luggage

It is said on the Camino that you pack your fears. The more stuff you're carrying around in your psyche, the more you tend to stuff in your rucksack.

“What if it rains? Should I pack a poncho in addition to my rain gear? What if my shoes fall apart? What if I get a blister? What if I get bedbugs? What if I get lost? What if the hostel is out of beds? Where will I sleep?”

We try to be ready for everything. We need an answer for anything that might come up.

For a 20-day trip to Europe, I had two pairs of clothes. I wore one set and packed the other. Two shirts, two shorts, two pairs of socks, and two pair of underwear. This was really out of my comfort zone, as I’m surprisingly good at coming up with “What ifs?” that I need to account for.

I had to remind myself that it’s not about being ready for every unforeseeable thing, but about being confident in my own resourcefulness and ability to problem-solve.

I looked at my trip as a stoic test—a challenge to let go of some of the comforts that a privileged life has conditioned me to absolutely need—a trial to better appreciate small luxuries when they are present, but not to expect them as a baseline for happiness.

Don’t walk the Camino before you walk the Camino

Before my trip, I had only done a few five-mile walks with my backpack in the flat terrain of Florida. The Camino Portuguese (from Porto) is a roughly 200-mile trek with climbs as high as 1200 feet.

I wasn’t physically ready for the Camino.

This might be a reason to turn back—to not begin. I was doubting myself until I received this piece of advice from a veteran hiker: "Don’t walk the Camino before you walk the Camino. You will get in shape on the trail.”

Sure enough, my walk along the coast of Portugal started with some difficulty. The backpack felt heavy, and so did my feet. By the end of day three, 50 miles into the hike, I started to notice muscles that weren’t there before. I was improving. The walk was getting easier. By the end of my 200-mile journey, I felt like I could have hiked for days without rest, and I barely noticed my pack.

Our muscles for whatever thing we set our mind to will develop. We will improve. Whether it’s a business, a book, or some other endeavor, the most important thing is to begin.

“The show (snl) doesn’t go on because it’s ready; it goes on because it’s 11:30.” — Lorne Michaels

Many walks started in the dark, which reveals its own kind of beauty.

We are best equipped to help the person we once were

If my musings resonate with you, I’m currently seeking coaching clients in a very specific niche - that is, I want to talk to the person I once was.

• I was just floating along on autopilot, buying stuff I didn’t really care about, and expecting to work until I was too old and expensive to keep around

• I was someone whose net worth was scattered across legacy retirement accounts - I had no understanding of how much I was worth, what kind of fees I was paying, nor how much income my retirement nest egg should generate

• I didn’t understand the stock market as business ownership, but rather as Las Vegas, and was paralyzed in fear of market crashes

• I didn’t understand how to estimate my social security benefit and largely dismissed social security as something that “would be gone” by the time I retire

• I failed at budgeting multiple times and had little understanding of where my paycheck was going and how much money I truly needed to live

• I was afraid ACA healthcare meant bad healthcare; that no doctors would see me, and no procedures would be approved

• I didn’t understand travel rewards, and regularly paid way too much for airfare and hotel stays

• I lacked a community and mentors to talk to, receiving packaged advice for very individualized problems

All of our situations are different—I don’t have all life’s answers. I’m not a CFP and don’t give specific financial advice, but I can put things in easy-to-understand terms. I am someone a few steps further along than the person I used to be. Email me at avalentine001@gmail.com and tell me your story!