This (more or less) came out of my mouth at a pub with friends shortly after I got home.........
Its like leading a completely self contained mini-life. You are born in St. Jean. You know nothing, and everything is new to you. Confusing, amazing, frightening, and wondrous. You become like a child, and barge forward tentatively at first. Then it becomes a game you play, and its fun. You make some new friends. You become a teenager, and discover risk taking, hubris, and excess. You pay for it, and you mature. Can't walk 35 km every day, and can't drink a whole bottle of wine every night. You hit your prime, and develop confidence in your body and yourself. Some new friends come, and others go, but your goal never waivers. As the kilometers tick by, you realize one day that you have reached a point of middle aged wisdom and equanimity. Everything still works, but the body grows tired. It is during this time you connect with yourself, free from the distractions you have discarded one by one along the way. As you approach Santiago, you realize that your time grows short, and soon you will walk no further. What on earth caused me to be in such a hurry to arrive at the end? I was such a fool when I was young. Sitting in Santiago, you reflect on what you did and did not do. The pains, triumphs, miseries and joys, both shared and private. You remember the friends who are still with you, and those you lost track of. And you recheck the plane ticket that will take you "home" tomorrow.