Day 8: Kumano Kodo—Lies, steep hills, and the art of not pissing yourself
I’m a 50+ year-old with a backside so rotund it could have its own postal code, body held together by enough K-tape to mummify a small horse. And yet, here I am, still walking. If I can do this, anyone can. This morning started with what I now recognise as a sweet, smiling lie from…