So, I'm tired ...

After five weeks "on the road" (hesitate to use that phrase, as I've been stationed in three cities, in very comfy, private, generously appointment apartments over these past five weeks - it's not like I'm moving place to place each night staying in dives) ...  and I'm definitely feeling it.  Maybe it's partly my age, maybe it's just general wear and tear from near-constant stomping around/sightseeing, as not only am I running out of steam generally, to the point where I've felt, a couple of times now, almost borderline ill, but yesterday and today, for the first time, the bottoms of my feet are aching, and it's scaring me to death, as I do now, and will forever fear a recurrence of the dreaded plantar fasciitis condition I had, in both feet, back in 2004, which lasted for a year and a half.  Believe me, the last place you want to be injured, of any place on the body, is the bottoms of your feet, let alone have that injury go on, despite visiting three (!) podiatrists who could apparently do nothing for it, (as they did nothing), for over a year.  The only thing I dread more than the return of this condition is getting the type of severe, debilitating bronchitis that I had when I turned 30, which caused me, the lifelong non-smoker, to hack continuously to the point of pulling muscles in my back, put me out of work for four months, and resulted in what felt like pleurisy in my lungs (inflammation in the lung lining).  (The fact that it somehow wasn't pneumonia makes me in total awe of what pneumonia must be like.)

So, here's to hoping my feet recover.  Please, god.  Even thought I don't actually believe in your existence, please don't be this vindictive and cruel.  It's not the kind of price I want, or perhaps naively, expected to pay for a mid-life adventure trip.  I will very well pay in other ways - "career"-wise, financially, etc., but please.

Hence, today, other than a brief trip to the post office to mail stuff home so I don't have to drag around a 100lb suitcase behind me in a few days, and other than the brief trip I took just now, just north of here to visit 16th and 17th avenues to admire the truly stunning architecture (which is when I learned that the feet ache from yesterday was continuing, despite a very ginger walk of only a block or so,) I've been home (despite a nice day) and will be tomorrow, as well.  I'm just wiped, frankly.

It's not something I pictured, being pooped like this, being drained, having such low reserves of energy, because, goddamnit, I am not a couch potato.  In my 'normal' life, I walk, good and hard, every single day - normally, minimally a full hour and at a good, hard pace, or else why bother?  And also, it's the only thing that makes it worth it - ie a stroll does nothing for me, physically.  So I hadn't imagined that I'd end up needing to rent a car, in large part due to rapidly waning energy/exhaustion, but oh well.  It ain't like I'm 21.  Still, I'm disappointed, but what can you do?  My body is sending me messages, and feet, you, in particular, I'm listening to, so please, please respond in kind, and come back to me, unharmed. 

Deal?