Traveling for business in my “old life.”

 

At different times in my career, I traveled for business far more often than I ever traveled for pleasure. Those trips carried a curious mix of emotions. There was always a spark of excitement in heading somewhere new, an anticipation of seeing a different city, a different landscape, a different way of life. But that excitement was consistently tempered by a strong sense of responsibility that never allowed me to fully relax into the experience.

Preparing for a business trip was nothing like the way we prepare for travel today. There was no leisurely packing of all of our belongings. Instead, it was about making sure everything needed for the work ahead was in order. Notes were reviewed, presentations double-checked, and schedules carefully mapped out. There was little room for spontaneity. Every detail had a purpose.

The journey itself often felt like a transition between responsibilities rather than an adventure. Airports were busy and familiar, more functional than inspiring. I moved through them with intention, focused on getting to the destination on time and ready for whatever awaited. Even then, though, there was a subtle awareness that I was going somewhere new, and that awareness carried a hint of curiosity I didn’t always have the time to explore.

Arriving in a new city for business rarely meant seeing it in any meaningful way. Hotels were selected for convenience, close to offices or meeting locations, not for ambiance or charm. Many of them blended together in my memory, indistinguishable from one another except for the city name attached to them. The rooms were comfortable enough, but they were never a place to linger. They were simply a place to rest before the next obligation.

Each day was structured around work. Meetings, presentations, discussions, and decisions filled the hours. There was an expectation to be fully present, engaged, and prepared. That sense of responsibility was always at the forefront. It wasn’t just about showing up. It was about performing well, contributing meaningfully, and representing oneself and one’s work with care.

Even meals were influenced by that mindset. Breakfast was often quick, sometimes taken alone while reviewing the day ahead. Lunch and dinner might include colleagues or clients, but the conversation remained focused, purposeful. Rarely was there time to wander into a local café or try something unfamiliar simply for the experience of it. Food served its role, but it wasn’t something to be savored in the way we think of it now.

And yet, despite the structured nature of those trips, there were always small moments that stood apart. A glimpse of a skyline at sunrise before the day began. A short walk after a meeting, just long enough to notice the character of a neighborhood. A friendly exchange with someone who lived there, offering a brief but meaningful connection. These moments were fleeting, but they added a quiet richness to the experience.

Looking back, I can see how those trips were a bridge between two very different ways of traveling. At the time, the responsibility often took precedence, shaping how each day unfolded. The excitement was there, but it remained just beneath the surface, rarely given the space to fully emerge.

Now, with the freedom to travel without the constraints of business, the contrast is remarkable. We have time to notice, to linger, and to engage in ways that were not possible before. The sense of responsibility has shifted, replaced by a deeper appreciation for the experience itself.

Those earlier years of business travel were not without value. In fact, they played an important role in shaping how I see the world today. They introduced me to places I might never have considered visiting otherwise. They taught me discipline and focus, but they also revealed how much more there was to discover beyond the boundaries of a work schedule.

In many ways, that blend of excitement and responsibility defined those journeys. It was a balance that leaned heavily toward purpose, yet always carried an invitation to something more. Only now do I fully understand what that “something more” could be, and how fortunate we are to finally embrace it.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, July 30, 2016: