AFTER a break-up some women choose to neck a bottle of wine, cut their hair or go emergency clothes shopping.
My friend Maria Mejia and I decided to walk 930km across Spain.
And all of the above.
I had finally shut, locked the door and threw away the key on a relationship that had dogged most of my 20s and Maria had kicked Mr 'I'm so hot but ultimately a douchebag' to the kerb.
We had our wine, a notebook, Beyonce and Google. We were set.
Ignoring cries of "you know, you actually have to WALK it," and "you won't last a day without your hair straighteners," we set about planning our once in a lifetime trip.
We were going to take part in the world-famous pilgrimage - Camino de Santiago, starting from France and walking through to Finisterre - the end of the earth, in Spain.
And then we both got new boyfriends.
After one minute of debate we decided our new budding romances were not an excuse for us to put off a trip that we had set our hearts on.
This was something we wanted to do for ourselves, away from boys, away from parents, away from anyone who could help us.
So after a teary farewell we bade goodbye to the boys and set sail.
Our first day on the pilgrimage did not go exactly to plan.
About two minutes into our triumphant walk we heard a whistle.
Looking up we saw an old French man staring down at us from a balcony window with a bemused expression.
"Êtes-vous sur le Camino?" he asked. (Are you on the Camino?)
"Oui," we replied (Yes).
He then let out a deep chuckle and pointed to a sign across the road from us.
We had gone the wrong way. Oops.
Turning our burning red races around we marched off defiantly in the RIGHT DIRECTION, starting what would end up being an amazing day on the first leg of a very long journey.
There comes a point after walking for hours and hours on end, with the rain smacking down on you, the bitter wind slapping your cheeks and every muscle you never knew existed, hurting in a way that you never knew was possible, that your brain finally stops.
It stops obsessing over every little incident that you have no control over to change, it stops feeling guilty for the things you can change, did not do, could do, but won't.
The silence, the peace that comes with it is incredible.
The people we met along the way were some of the most inspiring people I have come across in my life.
The 73-year-old Texas lady, the French former paralympian who completed the journey in a wheelchair, the American college students who helped him when he got into trouble.
It was a good dose of humble pie to realise you are not the centre of the universe, that there are other people out there who are living incredible lives.
During our journey we legged it over a period of 34 days from St Jean Pied de Port, France to Santiago, Spain, where we received our certificates of completion.
Suckers for punishment, we then dragged our weary bodies away from the comfort of our hotel in Santiago and continued on for another three days to Finisterre - to watch the sun set in one of the most beautiful places on earth.
In total we walked 930km, having decided in moments of madness, to take the 'long way'.
I would have to say though, when we finally parked our behinds in a bus for the first time in more than a month I cried a little inside.
