Yesterday I had begun to feel some soreness on the front of my ankle, particularly when going downhill. I took Advil, tried to coddle it, and hoped that overnight rest would make a big difference.
Not so much. By the time we'd hiked 14 of the remaining 19 km, my ankle was screaming, red, and starting to swell. We stopped, I took some Advil, and we pushed on at a slower rate. 3.5 km from the end, I couldn't walk without grunting in pain. Grrr.
We stopped at a bar, Estelle got us some ice to put on my ankle, I took more Advil, and we sat there for 20 minutes. Time to try again, one more time. We went slowly, taking smaller steps, limping, watching pilgrims pass us by on both sides. 1 km down. Then 2 km. Bit by bit we finally made it to the cathedral. And 300 meters further, to our hostel. More ice. And rest.
But we're done. We made it. And now for showers, some rest, some food, and a few more hugs.
For lunch we celebrated at Caracoles, and then went to the Pilgrim's reception building near the cathedral for our last official stamp, and to collect our certificate of completion. Done and done.
Congratulations! And best wishes for getting on better terms with your ankle. What's that expression, the last mile of a journey is the most difficult, even though it's only a mile. Put's a new spin on "listen to your body," right? Sounds like your body was saying this is not working, but your brain said, "Get back to you on that as soon as we finish up here!"