During my Camino, I had the pleasure to meet a good fellow, Brendan. The following is his story,
Brendan’s Story
There are moments in life when the sun seems to set abruptly. For me, it was retirement, a season I had long anticipated but one that arrived carrying a strange emptiness. After decades of intense work, most recently leading a startup that consumed my mind 24/7, I found myself staring at a life that suddenly slowed to a crawl. It was both liberating and disorienting.
I needed something more than a clean break. I needed to mark the end of one life chapter and step deliberately into another. And so, I decided to walk.
I’d heard about the Camino de Santiago in passing, seen the film The Way, read a few stories, and spoken to pilgrims who had travelled its ancient paths. But I didn’t choose the Camino because I was certain of its magic. I chose it because it was long enough to process decades of life, long enough to untangle the tight knots in my mind, long enough to strip away the layers of a career-driven identity and get back to something simple and human.
When I set foot in León, the start of my 200-mile pilgrimage, I knew only two things:
- I wanted to decompress from years of constant mental strain.
- I was searching for solitude, for something that would make sense of this life transition.
The Camino does not ease you in. My first day was a steep and punishing climb of 1,400 meters. For someone fresh out of the boardroom, that felt like more than just a mountain. It was a jolt to the system. I had trained for it, thought about it constantly, and pushed through until I reached the top. That first day marked a turning point. The mindset I carried from years of work, always planning, always on edge, started to loosen its grip. The climb was the start of something new.
After that first day, everything slowed. Over the next 37 days, I let go of agendas and deadlines and opened myself to encounters with fellow pilgrims, with history, with God Himself. There’s something inevitable about walking mile after mile with only your thoughts, prayers, and the sound of your own breath. Insights come, often uninvited.
I began to see my journey as a story of sunset and sunrise:
- Sunset: Letting go of work, routine, and a life lived at a relentless pace.
- Sunrise: Rediscovering humanity, faith, and simplicity on a path walked for centuries.
The Camino has a way of speaking to the soul. What began as a physical challenge became a spiritual awakening. In the rhythm of walking, I heard God’s voice more clearly. The burdens I carried, both seen and unseen, grew lighter with every step.
This pilgrimage became less about reaching Santiago’s cathedral, and more about becoming whole again.
This story is just one chapter in a series I hope to share, a collection of voices and reflections from those walking their own pilgrimages. Like me, many set out on this path with pain or loss at their backs, only to find light breaking through.
For me, the Camino is proof that endings don’t have to be empty. In the right light, every sunset is simply the prelude to a sunrise.
