Tomorrow morning, the three of us begin our walk on the Camino de Santiago — the best-known of the Christian pilgrimage trails to Santiago de Compostela, a cathedral city in northwestern Spain.

At the moment, we are in a bustling little town named Sarria, 110 kilometers (68 miles) east of Santiago.

Sarria is the handiest place to begin the abbreviated version of The Way — or El Camino.

The Roman Catholic Church, which for about 13 centuries has encouraged believers to make the pilgrimage to the site of the relics of Saint James (Santiago, in Spanish), does not recognize as a pilgrimage anything shorter than 100km on the camino.

We will get in just over the limit, though 10-11km of clearance seems like more than enough for those who find difficult walking even one mile, or even one kilometer.

We are a bit excited and curious, but also harbor various concerns about whether we can actually walk an average of 14 miles — more than half a marathon — for five consecutive days. We will be aching to find out.

Blisters, throbbing knees, a recently rolled ankle, a wonky hip … these are all issues one or the others of us are confronting.

We successfully have completed training hikes of up to 17km (10.5 miles), but 1) that is shorter than any of the five legs ahead of us; 2) we never did 17km on consecutive days, let alone five straight; and 3) our test hikes ended with all of us achy, stiff and on the verge of some serious blisters.

Meanwhile, we will be propelled along the camino by logistics of our own devising — from one two-star or three-star hotel to the next along the route and separated by approximately 22km, 25km, 28km, 20km and another 20km.

Unlike ancient pilgrims, our itinerary does not allow us to just sleep where we fall. Of course, medieval pilgrims were not armed with special hiking gear and toting smartphones.

We just had lunch (Galacian soup, sauteed chicken, almond tarts) at our hotel in Sarria, after being driven out from Santiago airport by the company who arranged our lodging.

The driver who picked us after we flew in from Madrid needed most of two hours to get us here, and he was hitting speeds of 145kph — or about 91 miles an hour. Our walking route is, I believe, more direct than the driving route, but it is very hard to imagine our feet will get us, in five days, where the driver’s Audi did in 100 minutes.

It has suddenly turned warm in this part of Galicia. Ten days ago, it seemed as if heavy rain would dog us for most of the walk. Then it was a mix of rain and sun. Now, the rain is gone and the surrounding hills are blooming, but our concerns have flipped to “will we be overheated and sunburned?”

We just took a tour of the town, looking for “real” pilgrims, which is what most people consider themselves when they walk the standard “long” version of the French trail — which begins just the other side of the Pyrenees, in France, and covers nearly 800km — about 500 miles.

From Sarria to Portomarin, Day 1 for us, is something like Day 26 for the “serious” pilgrims. We are well aware that, although this is supposed to be an event which prompts internal notions about matters spiritual, most of the long-walkers we see will regard us with disdain. How can we know their suffering? Why are we not carrying enormous packs? Etc.

But not everyone can take a month off, and one of our party has a real job, back in California, and gets two weeks of vacation per year.

So the short version it is for these beginners.

We saw at least two peregrinos (pilgrims, in Spanish) outside a tapas bar, in late afternoon, one with his feet up on the chair next to his, and the other with her head hanging over a table while trying to re-hydrate.

Like the long hikers, we also know that we have escape routes if injuries or fatigue do us down — cabs and buses tend to be available not far from the winding path, especially here in what is considered the final stage of the walk. There is no shame in trying your best and acknowledging your body will not allow a person to make it all the way on foot.

In that case, one or more of us will find a cab (forfeiting the right to have an official “diploma” witnessed by the church) and go on to the next town, and the others will do their best to get there before nightfall.

So, up early, breakfast in the hotel, leave our luggage to be shipped to the next hotel, and out the door and along The Way, looking for the yellow signs with the image of the scallop painted on sidewalks and walls and lonely signposts.

God bless us, every one.