Being strong means a world of difference in traveling. So many thousands of miles from home in cultures so different while visiting Paris and Morocco for 16 days, it hardly seemed relevant how many pounds I could squat. But I’ve never been so fit and strong on a trip, and the differences were plentiful.
I could climb the 400+ stairs to the towers of Notre Dame without a ragged breath or slowing to my step.
I could toss my suitcase in the overhead compartment, and, thanks to farmer carries, could carry two — one in each hand — up and down flights of stairs.
I could lift my overstuffed suitcase to show the airline check-in staff and make it look light as a feather so she’d let me carry it on.
I could sprint to catch a metro.
I could carry heavy bags of groceries up to the 6th floor apartment where we stayed in Paris.
I could walk for miles and miles without getting tired.
I could sprint up to the top of a sand dune to watch a glorious sunset in the Sahara.
I could squeeze tight with my legs riding a camel downhill in the dark in the Sahara — a dicey proposition, and people DO fall off!
I could eat like an absolute maniac and gain a grand total of ONE pound.
I missed my training over the two and a half weeks I was away, and am a little apprehensive about going back tomorrow. I averaged 3-4 hours of sleep a night, am still dreadfully jetlagged, and didn’t get nearly the nutrition my body needed on the trip. But I know I can get back to where I was, and be strong for wherever my next adventure takes me.