What does Chicken Out mean?

When I finally made the decision to attempt the Camino Frances, I felt relieved. The decision had been looming over me for awhile and so as with any big life decision, once I was resolved to go to Spain, I felt rather liberated. A decision was made, my ticket was purchased and I was going to Spain. As the weeks passed by, my excitement and enthusiasm for this adventure of a lifetime grew. But something else grew too. And that something was the worm of self-doubt and fear. Now, I'm not a foolish person. Impulsive yes, foolish no. And so, as with any other type of backpacking trip I have done, I made sure to look into some of the hazards of completing the Camino by oneself, in the off-season. My research pointed to some very real hazards: not seeing another person for miles which could translate into trouble should I get hurt; very cold temperatures in Navarra and no hot water or electricity in the refugios there (many people reported getting very bad colds and having to walk on), not speaking Spanish, not finishing the camino in the time I allocated and thus having to bypass via bus some of the stops. These are all very valid concerns and ones that needed to be addressed. However, what was not on the list where being raped and murdered and left for dead. And the truth is that almost every single WOMAN I spoke to about the camino - be it a sales women, a co-worker, a friend, a stranger at a coffee shop -said something along the lines of, "Oh my god, you're going alone? Aren't you scared? You really should find someone to go with you. I would be scared to death to do something like that alone. Do you speak Spanish? You don't! Oh my god, you should not be doing this." And like any message that gets repeated enough, I found myself convincing myself that I should not do this trip alone. I let other people's fears and insecurities briefly become my own. I even went so far as to make an alternate plan to stay in Germany with my friend Jochen instead of going to Spain alone. I expressed my fears and anxiety and suggested an alternate plan in an email I sent to my friend Jochen in Germany. I told him that I was afraid I would chicken out. As Jochen is not a native speaker of English, this prashe perplexed him. He emailed back one simple, beautiful question about my fears.
"What does chicken out mean?"
And with that one sentence my courage was restored. What does chicken out mean anyway? Really what does this common American phrase mean and who sets the standard for the chicken? These were my questions and my answer is that I set the standard for the chicken. I set the standard for myself. I decide what I will and will not be afraid of. I decide what fears I will capitulate too and which ones hold no court with me. And going to Spain alone and walking across a country is not something I will allow myself to give up because of some other women's fears. Don't get me wrong, I'm not naive and as a woman I do have to take extra precautions. I'm not about to walk across Spain in my hot pants or in really tight notice me clothing. But I'm also not about to NOT do something I really want to do because I don't have anyone to go with me. The whole point of a spiritual pilgrimage is based on one going alone so as to find one's way. It's hard to find one's way if someone else is jabbering in your ear the entire time. This is not a vacation to me. This is not a tourist trip of 200 cathedrals in 35 days. This is my time alone on the road to figure me out, to see what I'm made of, what I can do on my own. Everything is packed and I'm ready...and this time...I'm bringing my chicken!!!