I went to Grand Prix Shizuoka this weekend. That is not close to where I live, but it's also not too far away. So I took the slow train Friday morning, did some translation work, really had to pee at one point, got to Shizuoka, dropped off my bag at my AirBNB, thought about the perils of run on sentences, then walked to the event.
The AirBNB host offered me a bicycle to use, but that made me uncomfortable. I did not want to be responsible for something that wasn't mine.
Many taxis drove past me. I thought about hailing them. But I didn't want to be that guy who is so fancy that he can take a taxi places.
So I walked. And checking my iPhone it says I walked 36 kilometers over the whole weekend. Part of that was probably just wandering the venue.
So I wonder. If I walked roughly thirteen kilometers every day, what would that do to my body? Would I be "fit"? Would I be happy? I probably wouldn't feel this pain that I am feeling now.
My feet hurt.
Did you read the magazine Wizard? I loved their letter section. One time they printed a letter that was nothing but "My toe hurts." They replied with some snark about them having problems but not complaining about them.
Okay, cliche. And who knows if that letter was actually written to them or not. But the idea that they get tons of thoughtful, well-written letters and decide to print one that only says "My toe hurts." was so fucking funny to me.
Every single time my foot or a toe hurts I think about that letter. And I laugh internally. It's a stupid memory, but a great one. That's nice though. I am glad that is part of me.
I was so exhausted from the walking and going back to work that I slept the entirety of Monday afternoon until Tuesday morning. I even slept for way too damn long Tuesday afternoon. And I ended up missing writing for this blog. Fuck. Oh well. I guess it doesn't matter that much. I do this blog to write because a part of be desires writing. So here it is.
And I’m talking about my feet.