A Saturday Training Day

In the decade and a half that I’ve trained for Camino, I’ve never done it without Francine before. There are days when that hits me, and I’m overcome with melancholy as I hike. At the same time, sometimes I can feel her with me, off to my left, hiking in her usual place.

It is the strangest thing.

Today, after spending the morning priming the attic (second coat), I had a quick shower and lunch (really more of a second breakfast) and then headed off on one of our usual training hikes. This involves walking down the hill to the waterfront, and then walking down the waterfront a bit before turning around.

Francine loved the sea.

When we did this walk together, we would almost always stop at the Spar – a local bar and restaurant in old Tacoma. We planned many an adventure at those tables! I resolved to stop there on the way back.

Not for the first time, it hit me as I walked down the waterfront how terribly alone I am. I have family, several close friends, a wide circle of acquaintances, and a loving parish community. Nevertheless, without Francine, I feel like half a person. I feel utterly alone.

The sky was overcast, but clear at the horizon. I could see the Olympic Mountains clearly. The air was cool and perfect for walking. I was at 6 km when I reached the old fire boat, one of our customary turnarounds. I was feeling froggy, so I decided to push it another kilometer.

There were so many people at the waterfront today – dog walkers, joggers, bicyclists, couples walking arm in arm.

At about the 7 km mark, I rested on a bench for a while before turning back. The air was noticeably cooler now, and there were already fewer people on the waterfront.

By the time I arrived back at the Spar, it was 2:45 PM, and I had about 10 km under my belt.

I had a burger and a beer, and I plotted my route through Béarn. 

I totally lost track of the time and didn’t leave until after 4:30 PM. It was cold enough now that I put on my jacket and gloves. I removed my gloves about halfway through the strenuous hill climb.

By the time I got home at 5:30, it was well and truly dark, and it had started raining. I don’t think I’ll be painting that third coat of primer in the attic today.

Not counting the strenuous work of painting, I put in 14.4 km today. I need to stretch that to about 18 by the end of the month. By March, I hope to be putting in some 24 km Saturdays.

We shall see.