My life in treadmills...

I guess it's the Catholic in me.

Joy here…Often balancing life - especially travel obligations - and sport don't necessarily go well for me.  I have a history of dropping the proverbial ball when it comes to travelling and maintaining my sporting regimen.

I first realized this when I was training for my first-ever half marathon.  And again and again on this (and my last) blog, I end up rehashing my many failings when I travel (like this post from September, during my first trip back to Canada from Malaysia).

I was good and ate salads!

I fall off the wagon with my training; I eat too much of the wrong stuff; I drink too much; I don't sleep enough.  And when I return home to reality, I end up in an unproductive cycle of self flagellation.

But in the month of March I had to travel from Malaysia to Canada for a jam-packed session of work and socializing.  I'd be in non-stop 14-hour a day meetings; I'd celebrate my dad's 70th birthday with my family; I'd get to visit friends in Toronto I haven't seen in a while; I'd get to meet my friend's new baby son who is thriving after having open heart surgery; I'd get to show the prototype of our essay-drafting software project to interested parties and shareholders; I'd give a presentation at the University of Toronto for PhD students thinking about life outside the academy; I'd give a keynote address for a women's alumnae society etc. etc.  You get the picture: my trip was scheduled as a fully-booked whirlwind extravaganza, and I faced it with terrible trepidation, figuring that all it would take would be a couple of weeks to undermine all the progress I've made with my fitness over the past few weeks.

This is what greeted me upon my arrival.

I was afraid I'd eat crap.  I was afraid I'd do nothing.  I was afraid I'd come back to Malaysia and have to start all over again.

I boarded the plane (incidentally, at the same time and at the same airport as the ill-fated MH370, which, by the way, they still haven't found; but while that plane was bound for Beijing, my first transit was through Istanbul, so I was blissfully unaware of the missing jet for my whole long flight to Canada).

I landed in FREEZING Canadian weather, and while I missed my first planned run, I dutifully found treadmills throughout Canada to use - one at my sister's gym, one at the posh Ritz Carlton hotel in downtown Toronto, one in my dad's gym, one at the airport hotel, and one at the Mandarin Oriental upon my return to KL - so that when I got back, I think I was even in better shape than when I had left.

Treadmills galore...

...the view from the treadmill in my dad's basement...

...the view from yet another treadmill.

Back to self-flagellation again...

Now I'm left feeling a little bit silly for all those times that I travelled and fell off the working out wagon, drank too much, and ate crap.

Now all those other times seem like they were filled with silly excuses.

So now, I'm back to self-flagellation after all.

But at least I'm in shape!

Over and out,
Joy