The Bare Truth
My Kind of Walk: Trudging Through Italy with Plantar Fasciitis, a Bone Spur, and Stubborn Hope
Let’s just say this wasn’t exactly a carefree stroll through Tuscany with gelato in hand.
I signed up for a Peace Walk through Italy, but truth be told, it started months before our boots hit the ground.
Some acquaintances who knew Gregg and I had walked the Camino de Santiago reached out with an idea: a walk through Italy to honor the fallen from WWII. They figured we’d be the right kind of stubborn to help pull it off. They were not wrong.
We were invited to help create a Peace Walk — roughly 80 miles from Castel Gandolfo to Rome — as a living memorial to the sacrifices made by the Allies. The group decided to follow the Via Francigena, a beautifully marked trail that would carry us through mountains, forests, vineyards, and living history.
The mission? To remember. To honor the men and women who fought and died to free not only Italy, but much of the world. Gregg had family in that war. So did the DeSalvos. My grandfather, too. We were walking for them. And for those who never got to come home.
It was meant to become an annual walk — part remembrance, part education — for people who hadn’t lived through war, to feel its shadow and appreciate the light we walk in now.
Of course, I had a few additional motivations. Who doesn’t love the idea of scenic villages, spiritual renewal, and a little walking meditation in the hills of Umbria?
What I forgot to factor in was that my right foot had other plans.
Spoiler Alert: I Didn’t Float Gracefully Through This
That foot came with a bone spur and plantar fasciitis, a combo that makes you question every cobblestone.
But I walked.
Not because it was easy — but because it mattered.
This wasn’t some “eat, pray, limp” situation where I soldiered through in silence, ignoring my body. I whined. I iced. I sat on a lot of medieval stone walls and told my foot to behave.
And — and this is the big one — I asked my body each day, “Is this a day for me to walk?” Let me tell you, she was loud and clear. Most days it was a big no.
But I did walk through the towns and villages. Slowly. Deliberately. Like someone who knew the real victory wasn’t finishing fast — it was not quitting. And when I say not quitting, I don’t mean I did even a tenth of the miles. But I did drive the pick-up car, and walk from place to place in each of the cities.
I also demanded of my foot to allow me to walk into Rome the last 3 miles.
Highlights from the Trail: Where Grit Meets Grace
We started in Castel Gandolfo, the Pope’s summer town, where the views are breathtaking and the espresso is strong. My friends had committed to walking the entire 80 miles to Rome.
Along the way:
Ridiculous amounts of pasta
Airbnbs with centuries-old ceilings and five-star hospitality
And new friendships with David and Kelly DeSalvo, whose hearts were as big as the mission — and who got up every day and walked the miles
One of the most powerful stops was through the Anzio American Cemetery, where rows of white crosses hold silence in the air. We stood for a ceremony. Listened to Taps. Folded flags with care. And carried that reverence with every step after.
And then — because this trip was a mix of sacred and surreal — a group was escorted into the Vatican. Not through the front like tourists, but through a back door that’s only opened every 25 years.
They sat with a Cardinal, in a room that held a kind of hush they will never forget. No photos. Just presence.
Me? I was in the hotel.
Foot elevated, practicing my breathing, and reading a book called Let Them. It helped me not feel sorry for myself while everyone else had the day of a lifetime.
Our final day, we attended a WWII remembrance conference inside the Department of Defense. A fitting, if serendipitous, location for a group walking for peace. Speakers came from all over the world — allies, scholars, peacemakers. We talked about the price of peace, the power of walking, and why remembering matters.
Walking Through Pain, Not Around It
Pain is a curious travel companion. At first, you resent it. But after a few days, you start talking to it like an old roommate who just won’t move out.
It slowed me down, yes — but that gave me time. Time to notice birdsong echoing through the valley. Time to watch the way Italian grandmothers sweep their doorsteps like a sacred ritual. Time to actually see where I was, instead of rushing to where I thought I needed to be.
And do you know what? You can do this even if your walk is less than a mile, five minutes, or just a gentle stroll around town. It still counts. It still heals.
Turns Out, Women Walk Differently
We walk with stories in our bones. We walk through grief, through reinvention, through the mess of midlife and what comes after.
And Then There Was My Foot… Still There, Still Whining
I didn’t walk every step.
But I did walk the final three miles of the Appian Way, those ancient stones echoing back centuries. My heart, full.
That last stretch into Rome felt like it belonged to every woman who ever kept going despite the pain. I walked it for her. For me. For all of us.
Key Takeaways for My Fellow Foot-Challenged Sisters
Want to walk across Italy with a body that’s been around the block? You can.
Just remember:
It’s not about conquering the trail. It’s about meeting yourself on it.
Pack your patience.
Take breaks before you need them.
And don’t forget to celebrate every single mile — even the ones you limp through. And the ones you don’t get to at all.
Tips for Fellow Foot-Challenged Pilgrims
If you’re tempted to do something like this with feet that’ve been through it, here’s what helped:
Shoes with rocker soles: My HOKAs carried me farther than logic thought possible.
Custom orthotics: Game changer. I won’t walk a mile without them again.
Topical pain relief + ice rolling: Voltaren gel, arnica, and frozen water bottles at night were non-negotiables.
Stretching like it’s your side hustle: Morning and night. Achilles, arch, and calves.
Pacing yourself without guilt: You’re not slow. You’re present. There’s a difference.
Keywords for My Fellow Wanderers
You’re not just searching for advice.
You’re searching for permission.
You might type:
Peace walk Italy with injury
Walking the Appian Way with plantar fasciitis
Women over 60 doing pilgrimages
Walking with purpose and pain
Via Francigena footcare tips
Walking pilgrimage with plantar fasciitis
Best shoes for long distance hiking with foot pain
Walking Italy after 70
Pilgrimage routes for women with bodies that creak
You are not alone. You’re in excellent company.
Final Thoughts: Walk the Miles That Matter
So yes — I did the Peace Walk in Italy with a rebellious foot and a ridiculous amount of tenacity. And no, I didn’t finish every planned mile.
Hardly any planned miles.
But I came home stronger.
Not because I muscled through. But because I listened — to my body, to the land, to the quiet voice that said, “Keep going. Just slower. Your kind of walk is exactly enough.”
I didn’t walk it perfectly. But I walked it honestly.
And I came back changed — not because I pushed through the pain, but because I paid attention to what mattered.
So if you’re holding yourself back because your foot hurts, or your age whispers “maybe not,” or the voice in your head says “not now”…
Here’s mine saying:
Go anyway. Go gently.
Go your way.
And know it’s enough.
