How Many Miles I Flew in 2025 (and What I’ve Learned Along the Way)
by Claire L. Brady, EdD
At some point last fall, someone asked me a question that made me pause: “How many miles do you think you flew in 2025?” So I did the math. By which I mean: ChatGPT did the math.
Based on my round-trip flights out of Orlando to campuses and clients across the country—California (multiple times), Texas, the Midwest, the Northeast, the South, and everywhere in between—I flew approximately 53,500 miles in 2025. That’s more than twice around the Earth, powered by carry-on snacks, good coffee, and a deep appreciation for the work I get to do in higher education.
I get asked a lot what frequent travel has taught me. The short answer is more than I expected—about staying grounded, navigating long stretches away from home, and finding ways to make travel feel supportive rather than draining.
When it comes to flying, one thing surprises people most: I have no airline loyalty. This fact makes my dear friend and colleague Meghan Grace deeply uncomfortable. I understand the appeal of points and status, but I choose routes and schedules that make sense for the work and the moment. I prioritize the fastest direct flights when possible. Convenience and getting home to Ben and Fox wins every time.
There are a few things I never compromise on. I always sit in the aisle at the front of the plane (think first 5 rows). I value easy exits, the ability to stand and stretch, and not climbing over other people. I always greet the flight attendants warmly because flying is their workplace, and small moments of kindness matter. I never hesitate to ask for a seatbelt extender if I need one. Comfort and dignity are non-negotiable. And TSA PreCheck remains one of the best decisions I’ve made for frequent travel.
I’ve also learned when not to work. Unless I’m on a true cross-country trek, I don’t dig into big projects while flying. Planes are not where I do my deepest thinking. Instead, I’ll return a few emails, do light editing, read through project notes, or catch up on materials I’ve already written. And sometimes, I color on my iPad using a coloring app. It turns out that quiet, low-stakes creativity is a great antidote to long days. There are few things worse than hearing your seatmate’s Teams notification ping repeatedly at 35,000 feet.
I’ve learned to build small systems that make travel smoother. I carry both wired and wireless headphones because one will inevitably fail. I have favorite luggage that rolls well and fits overhead bins without a fight. I travel with a reliable, inexpensive backpack that holds exactly what I need and nothing extra. I have designated travel clothes and Hoka sneakers that layer easily and prioritize comfort over aesthetics. I keep two complete sets of toiletries and makeup—one at home and one always packed—so I’m never scrambling.
This year, I added a packing vacuum sealer to the mix so I can fit winter-ready sweaters into a carry-on when heading north. It may be my most practical purchase yet.
A few final lessons from the air: bring a snack you actually enjoy, download everything before boarding, keep one credit card or Apple Pay easily accessible in the airport, and build in buffer time whenever you can. Most stress is avoidable with a little planning. And most people you encounter while traveling are simply trying to get where they’re going.
Delays happen. When they do, I lean on my student affairs and crisis training—stay calm, ask thoughtful questions, and advocate for myself when it’s needed. I don’t always get home on time, but I usually get home grounded and at ease. That feels like a win.
People sometimes ask if I have a favorite airport. Without hesitation, it’s Orlando—especially when I’m walking out the doors and heading home.
This level of travel is only possible because I have the very best family—and the very best husband—cheering me on and holding things steady at home. I’m intentional about scheduling most travel on days when we don’t have our son. It’s not always possible, but it’s something I pay close attention to. The support, flexibility, and grace that make this work possible never go unnoticed.
Fifty-three thousand miles is a lot when you say it out loud. But every flight led to a campus, a conversation, a keynote, or a moment of partnership that reinforced why I love this work. Being physically present on campuses makes me a better consultant. Staying connected virtually allows relationships to deepen over time. And the combination of both continues to feel like a privilege.
If you travel often—or even occasionally—I’d love to learn from you. What’s one travel habit, tool, or mindset that makes being on the move more humane or more manageable for you?
