Step by Step · Part 1/3
Walking on the Amalfi Coast: When the Plan Falls Apart
The Amalfi Coast is famous for its light, its lemon groves — and its steps. Anyone who hikes here soon learns: one staircase is followed by another, and then a few hundred more steps after that. Steep climbs are simply part of the daily routine.
I knew that going in. And I had a plan: train regularly, ideally on the steps of the Völkerschlachtdenkmal here in Leipzig, where you can rack up plenty of elevation in a short time. A solid, realistic plan — until I got sick. Weeks before the trip, my training stopped, right when I needed it most.
The Week Before Departure
Instead of trained legs, I mostly had doubts. Can I even do this? Is my fitness good enough? And quietly, but persistently, a bigger question underneath it all: What am I actually expecting from this trip?
I noticed how much pressure I was putting on myself — as if there were some invisible rule: a thousand metres of elevation a day, no breaks, no giving in. Nobody had actually demanded that of me except myself. So the real task before the trip was no longer strengthening my calves. It was learning to sit with an uncomfortable question: how do I handle a situation I can no longer prepare for the way I wanted to — without spiralling into panic?
It's a pattern I know well from my practice, except this time I was on the other side of the desk. The mind starts catastrophising the moment a plan wobbles. Instead of “I'll adjust the stages,” it quickly becomes “I can't do this.” There's a real difference between those two sentences — and it takes a little practice to remember that.
A Small Ritual Before Setting Off
That week, I reached for Motivate more often in the evenings — the invigorating blend of peppermint, cinnamon and citrus. Not as a fix for untrained legs; no oil in the world could replace that. It was more of a small, deliberate moment: a few drops in my palms, a deep breath, and space to ask myself again what this hike was really supposed to be about. Not a personal best or a set number of metres climbed, but simply arriving — and letting myself slow down or stop along the way.
The scent became a kind of anchor for that thought. When the doubts got loud in the evening, that short pause helped me come back to myself instead of getting lost in what-ifs.
What I Took With Me
In the end, I boarded the flight with fewer training kilometres in my legs than planned — but with a clearer mindset. A plan falling through doesn't mean the whole thing fails. It often just means deciding again along the way: for your own pace, instead of some imagined standard.
How that actually felt on the first stages of the Amalfi Coast — between sore muscles, sea views, and the question of how to get back on your feet the next morning — that's what I'll share in Part 2 of this little series.
Your next step
Curious to experience it yourself? You can book a small group workshop — or start with a selection of oils at home and notice what changes for you.