When a Corporate Titan Took a Timeout on the Camino

Anthony didn’t do breaks. Vacations, maybe. But they were the carefully curated kind—five-star hotels, perfectly chilled martinis, and assistants who’d answer his emails faster than he could order room service. He wasn’t the sort of guy who meditated, journaled, or stared at the stars searching for existential truths. Why bother? He already had everything he wanted. CEO of a wildly successful tech company. A house so big the cleaning staff used walkie-talkies. A calendar so full it had to be colour-coded by his personal productivity consultant.

But one morning, while staring at yet another award plaque on his desk, Anthony felt it: a hollow ache where satisfaction should have been.

His assistant Lorraine, ever the practical oracle, handed him a brochure: “From Troubled to Triumpant: A Camino de Santiago Hiking Retreat in the Southwest of France.”

“Three days of walking the Camino?” Anthony snorted, scanning the itinerary. “Me? You must be joking!”

“It’s potentially life-changing!” she replied. And because Anthony’s life had started to feel like a LinkedIn feed come to life—polished, predictable, and just a little soul-dead—he booked it.

Day 1: The Arrival (a.k.a. “Meeting Your Fellow Pilgrims”)

The retreat began in a postcard-perfect French farmhouse: half-timbered walls, surrounded by sprawling vineyards,and ancient woods, all lovingly curated to look effortlessly chic—like the backdrop of a très exclusive desres ad. Anthony was greeted by the hostess, who handed him a glass of chilled rosé as if she’d known his taste for understatement all along.

The group was intimate: two other high-achievers seeking a “reset,” a world-famous yoga guru named Bella who spoke about “chakra alignment” as if it were a quarterly KPI, and Henri—a fellow CEO with a wiry frame and a French accent so rich it felt like a masterclass in luxury branding just to hear him speak.

Dinner was equal parts decadently delicious and disarming. As the hostess invited the group to share introductions, Anthony—well-versed in boardroom banter—found himself uncharacteristically brief. “I’m Anthony. I run a company,” he offered, omitting the finer details of yachts and vintage cars that usually seasoned his introductions.

Henri, who’d walked the Camino before, gave him a knowing smile. “By ze end of zis week, Anthony, you will find… whatever it is you are looking for.”

Anthony wasn’t sure he’d lost anything. But he raised his glass of Côtes de Gascogne rosé anyway—just in case clarity was waiting at the bottom of the bottle.

Day 2: First Steps on the Camino (or, “These Boots Were Not Made for Walking”)

Anthony traded his usual Italian loafers for hiking boots—clunky, stiff, and about as natural on his feet as a Formula 1 car in off-road mode.

Henri, effortlessly twirling his sleek Nordic walking sticks like a maestro with a baton, smiled over his shoulder. “Ze Camino,” he declared, “is not just a walk. It is a conversation wiz yourself.”

Anthony resisted the urge to roll his eyes and said nothing.

The group set off, winding through the sun-drenched hills of the French countryside. At first, Anthony tackled it like a corporate takeover, surging ahead with his signature competitive edge. But within an hour, the wheels started to come off. His legs burned, his lungs protested, and his shirt clung to him in awkward, damp defiance. When Bella chirped, “Feel the earth’s energy!” he briefly considered whether that energy might manifest as a rideshare.

By lunchtime, they stopped in a postcard-perfect village square. Each unpacked a simple picnic of baguettes, cheese, and ripe fruit. Anthony, accustomed to kale smoothies and artfully plated power lunches, devoured his meal with abandon. It was rustic, unpretentious, and life-affirming—the kind of meal that tastes better when you’ve earned every bite. Or maybe it was the first one he’d actually savoured in years.

Day 3: Blisters and the Art of Slowing Down

The second day of walking hit differently. Anthony’s body protested with every step, but it wasn’t the kind of ache that demanded an ice bath—it was the good kind, the kind that whispered, Hey, remember me? I’m your body, not just a chauffeur for your overclocked brain.

As the group moved through the countryside, Anthony began to notice things he would have normally brushed past in a blur of notifications: the sweet tang of apple blossoms riding the breeze, the satisfying crunch of gravel beneath his boots, the rhythmic ebb and flow of Bella and Henri’s conversation as they swapped stories. Bella shared tales of transformative retreats, while Henri recounted his first Camino with such reverence that even Anthony had to admit the man-made silence sounded like a TED Talk waiting to happen.

Midway through the hike, Henri slowed the group. “Let us walk wiz no talking,” he suggested, his tone gentle but firm. “Just listen. Ze Camino will speak.”

Anthony bit back a smirk. He wasn’t here for spiritual epiphanies or existential whispers from a gravel trail. Still, he played along, falling into step behind the others as the group dissolved into quiet.

At first, the silence felt awkward, like a boardroom with no agenda. But as they moved in unison, something in him softened. Without the constant ping of emails, the relentless tick of deadlines, or the unspoken pressure to dazzle an audience, Anthony’s mind began to unfurl like a map he hadn’t consulted in years.

Memories bubbled to the surface—late nights coding in his college dorm, fueled by ramen and sheer ambition; standing in front of strangers pitching his scrappy startup with nothing but a dream and a deck of slides; the electric thrill of building something from nothing. It wasn’t just nostalgia. It was a reminder of who he used to be before success turned into spreadsheets, projections, and quarterly targets.

Somewhere along the trail, it hit him like a gust of fresh spring air: when had he stopped being the creator and become the operator? When had his life shifted from passion to process?

He didn’t have the answers yet, but for the first time in years, he felt the pull to find them.

Day 4: Anthony’s Discovery

By the third and final day of walking, Anthony was—dare he admit it—enjoying himself. Yes, enjoying. The man who once considered a “break” five minutes spent skimming emails on a treadmill wasn’t checking his phone. He wasn’t even wearing his Apple Watch. Time, for once, was measured in footsteps, sunlight, and the easy rhythm of conversation.

Henri proved to be excellent company, dispensing his unique brand of French-accented wisdom like confetti on a parade route. “Zis path,” Henri said, gesturing to the Camino ahead, “it teaches us to let go of ze baggage. Sometimes, we carry too much—old fears, old beliefs, old goals. We must make space for ze new.”

Anthony nodded, the words landing deeper than he expected. His mind wandered to the metaphorical luggage he’d been dragging through life: the relentless pursuit of more. More success. More prestige. More zeros stacked neatly in his accounts. But Henri’s words posed a simple, startling question: what if more wasn’t the point?

That night, back at the farmhouse, they gathered for a celebratory dinner under strings of golden fairy lights. The hostess brought out bottles of local wine, the kind that felt like the earth itself had been bottled. Bella, radiant as ever, suggested a round of reflections. “What did the Camino teach you?” she asked, with the air of someone expecting answers to rival Rumi.

Anthony, uncharacteristically, didn’t rush to speak. He listened as Bella shared how she’d reconnected with her purpose and Henri mused about the joy of simplicity. When it was finally his turn, he raised his glass, his words slower and more deliberate than usual.

“It taught me…” he began, pausing as the room leaned in, “that sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is… nothing at all.”

The table erupted in applause. Bella dabbed at misty eyes, clearly moved. Henri, ever the sage, raised his glass with a knowing smirk, as if to say, Finally, he understands.

And for the first time in years, Anthony wasn’t thinking about the next big thing. He was just there—present, content, and strangely light.

Day 5: Back to Reality (with New Priorities)

The retreat ended over a farewell breakfast of flaky croissants and strong coffee, punctuated by heartfelt goodbyes. Anthony exchanged emails with Bella and made a vague promise to Henri to “stay in touch.” (They both knew he probably wouldn’t, but the sentiment felt right.)

On the flight home, Anthony noticed something subtle but undeniable: he felt… lighter. Not in a clichéd, I found myself in the French countryside kind of way, but in a quieter, more grounded sense—like he’d hit a mental reset button he didn’t even know existed.

Back at work, the changes started small but rippled outward. He delegated more, trusting his team instead of micromanaging every detail. He left the office at a reasonable hour—not as a reward for finishing the day’s tasks, but as a rule. Meetings became walking meetings whenever possible, the fresh air adding a clarity the boardroom couldn’t replicate.

And every now and then, he’d catch himself smiling. Not because of a quarterly win or a big deal closed, but because he remembered the crunch of gravel under his boots, the tang of apple blossoms in the air, or the way the sun had warmed his face on those endless trails.

The Camino hadn’t handed him all the answers on a silver platter. It wasn’t magic. But it had done something far more valuable: it shifted his perspective. It nudged him to ask different questions—the kind that didn’t fit neatly on a spreadsheet.

For a man who’d once equated success with never slowing down, learning to pause felt like a breakthrough. And in his world, breakthroughs were never small.

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Epilogue: Anthony’s Notes

Back at his sprawling corner office, overlooking a skyline that once filled him with pride, Anthony began to see things differently. His old ways—the relentless pace, the obsessive need to achieve—felt like wearing a suit that didn’t fit anymore. Something about those three days on the Camino had shifted his priorities, not in a dramatic, sell-it-all-and-live-on-a-goat-farm kind of way, but in subtle, powerful ways.

One night, while flipping through an old notebook from the retreat, he jotted down a few principles—guidelines, really—that the Camino had quietly handed him. At first, it was just for himself, but eventually, he found himself sharing them with friends, colleagues, even his board of directors.

Here’s how it went:

1. The inbox is a black hole—don’t get sucked in.
   “Your inbox will never be empty,” he explained to his assistant one day with a wry grin. “It’s like chasing a finish line that moves every time you blink. Decide what really matters, and let the rest go.” From then on, Anthony made a point of closing his laptop at a reasonable hour. He discovered that the world didn’t fall apart if he responded to an email the next morning—and, shockingly, neither did his business empire.
2. You don’t need to climb every mountain in a sprint.
   The Camino had forced Anthony to slow down, literally and figuratively. He’d learned the value of a steady pace—of appreciating the path, not just the destination. He began applying this principle to his life: spending time with his family without checking his phone every two minutes, pausing to enjoy a conversation instead of rushing to the next meeting, even taking up the utterly unproductive habit of sitting on his balcony and staring at the stars.
3. When in doubt, eat that baguette.
   This one started as a joke but turned into a mantra. During the Camino, a simple picnic had reminded him how much joy could be found in life’s small pleasures—a perfectly crusty baguette, a good bottle of wine, or a quiet sunset. “It’s not always about the big wins,” he’d tell people, laughing. “Sometimes, it’s about letting yourself savour the little things. Life’s too short to skip the carbs.”

These principles didn’t turn Anthony into a completely different person. He was still ambitious, still loved a challenge, and still occasionally fell into old habits of overworking. But now, he recognised the signs. He knew when to step back. And for a man who used to believe success was about running harder, faster, and longer than anyone else, this was revolutionary.

And every so often, when the demands of the world crept back in and his calendar started looking like a game of Tetris on steroids, he’d grab his hiking boots. Maybe it was just a stroll through the park, or a day spent walking the hills near his vacation home, but it was enough to bring him back to the lessons of the Camino: slow down, enjoy the view, and remember that life isn’t just a race to the next milestone.

Anthony didn’t need the Camino to change his life entirely—just enough to make him feel like he was living it again. And if that meant occasionally ditching the suit for hiking boots, well… even titans of industry need a little fresh air from time to time.

From Troubled to Triumphant

The Camino de Santiago walking retreat Anthony attended was one of my From Troubled to Triumphant Camino de Santiago retreats—a carefully curated experience for high-performers who are ready to hit pause and reconnect with what truly matters to them. These retreats aren’t about “roughing it” or chasing yet another trophy for the shelf. They’re about stripping back the noise, giving your overworked mind and body the space to breathe, and finding clarity in the simplest, most unexpected moments.

This isn’t just about rustic indulgence—it’s about intentionality. My retreats are designed to provide a perfect balance: enough structure to guide you toward self-discovery, and enough freedom to let you (re)define what “triumph” means for you. Whether it’s the peaceful rhythm of your boots crunching gravel or the unexpected insights shared over dinner with your fellow travellers, every detail is engineered to inspire connection—with yourself, with others, and with the life you’re truly meant to lead.

If you’ve mastered the art of “more” but are ready to explore te meaning of “enough,” these retreats offer a rare chance to reset, because the road to living a meaningful, impactful and fulfilling life doesn’t have to be paved with compromises.

iNFINITE iMPACT

After returning from the retreat, Anthony felt a shift he couldn’t ignore. The grind that once fueled him now felt hollow, and he found himself craving something deeper—more meaningful, more impactful. Inspired by the clarity he’d found on the Camino, he signed up for my iNFINITE iMPACT mentoring program, ready to channel his newfound perspective into action. This wasn’t about abandoning his success; it was about redefining it—building a life and legacy that aligned with his values and lit him up from the inside out. With tailored guidance, bold strategies, and a touch of that Camino magic, Anthony began turning his epiphanies into tangible, transformative and longterm impact.

For more information about the T2Tretreats and/or iNFINITE iMPACT, send an e-mail to OpenLockedDoors@gmail.com