I’ve never crossed so many time zones and returned to work so quickly.

I thought I’d be fine. I was incorrect.

We arrived back in Canada from Taiwan at around 2 AM on Sunday. I worked at 6 AM on Monday — bad idea. I spent the next two days in a stupor, an absolute haze of existence. I was sharp enough to talk, to drive, to perform basic physical functions. But my brain remained asleep.

Finally, on Tuesday night, I slept. At least, I had a proper sleep.

And now, Thursday afternoon, I feel the fog lifting.

I’m not 100%, but I’m getting close.

I forced myself back into routine this morning. Yoga, meditation, weights, running. I shocked my body into some sense of order that I hoped mental muscle memory would recognize.

So far, so good.

Jet lag doesn’t feel nice. It doesn’t hurt, but it scrambles the mind. And the more time zones one crosses, the longer it takes to recover. I’ve travelled enough to know better, but I’m arrogant enough to think that I’d be fine after a single day.

Reality has humbled me once more.