A-touristing we shall go....

Touristing with Sean and I really ought to come with some sort of warning label.

"CAUTION: Touristing with this couple may cause your feet to fall off."

Or maybe, "WARNING: Proceed with tourist activities with Sean and Jillian at your own risk."

Or, "DANGER: These two individuals are not your standard tourists. If you have any injuries which may preclude you from running a marathon, the Surgeon General of the United States advises against proceeding further."

Sean's friend flew out from Phoenix, and we met him in Washington D.C. for a long weekend (yes, it was a long jaunt for him, but Southwest Airlines fare sales are not to be ignored). 

Now, Jeff is no fool. He visited us in Japan when we lived there, and we warned him to bring his most comfortable shoes because we were going to be walking to the back of beyond--and back again.  He kind of grinned at this statement at first, but dag gum it...we walked that grin right off his face.

The Washington Monument. Smithsonian Castle on the left.

I've gained quite a bit of weight since returning from Japan, but because of the wonder that is Crocs (no, not the fugly ones that look like clogs--and "fugly" is not a typo, don't ask me to explain it--but the cute ones that look like mary janes or ballet flats or sandals), I can still pull off 6-10 mile days without too much pain. Or so I thought. I always bring my two most comfortable pairs of walking shoes, which fit differently. That way, if one rubs me and gives me blisters on one day, I switch it out to the other pair the next to give myself a break--or sometimes I carry the secondary pair with me. And I always load up on a bunch of band-aids and pass them out like candy to everyone in our party.

We met up with a friend of mine who lives in DC and had a relatively easy first evening. We probably only logged 4-5 miles. It would have been less, but we got off at the wrong metro stop. We viewed the Washington Monument and the Capitol at sunset on the way to the hotel, and then in full dark on our walk back to meet with my friend. 

The Capitol Building

The next day.... well, the next day felt fairly epic. Being in DC on Veteran's Day is an experience in and of itself. We started out in Arlington National Cemetery and walked as far as we could, even though the whole place was on relative lockdown due to Secret Service security before the President came to lay a wreath at the  Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers. We looked at the crowds gathering to take the shuttle up to the Tomb and decided that as cool as it would be to see the President at the ceremony, we didn't feel like being jammed in with 5,000 of our closest friends for nearly 3 hours for a 20-minute ceremony. Instead, we walked as far as they would let us before we felt moderately intimidated by an MP squad of Marines in full dress blues. 

Arlington National Cemetery

Then we walked back down through Arlington and crossed the bridge to the National Mall and Mr. Abe Lincoln himself. Right about then is when we saw the Presidential Motorcade whipping through the streets. We were talking about it later, and it really probably would have been cheaper to have the President come in on Marine One rather than shutting down the motorcade route and pulling the Marines, the Police, and the Secret Service into the mix, but then we realized there's really nowhere in Arlington to land a helicopter. 

We took in the crowds around the Vietnam Wall and decided to hit it later, then squeezed in to see Lincoln with our fellow patriots. Sean had gone for a six-mile run around the Mall in the morning around dawn, and he convinced us that doing the Mall and the Tidal Basin at dawn meant that we'd be sharing the monuments with four of our closest friends, not 4000. Not being a morning person, I really didn't want to consider the dawn jaunt...but then Sean showed me some pictures on his phone from the run, and I decided he was right.

Washington Monument at dawn 

Washington Monument pre-dawn

So, we trekked to the nearest metro station--which happened to be named Foggy Bottom, isn't that cool?--about two miles away, to meet up with my friend again in Friendship Heights for lunch. After another long walk from the metro station, it's a darn good thing Pete's New Haven Style Pizza was as tasty as Kirstin promised. At this point, we're about 5 miles into our day.

And then the conversation went something like this:

Sean - "How far away is the zoo from here?"

Kirstin - "Close-ish. Just a couple of metro stops. Did you want to walk, or take the metro?"

Sean - "I'm always up for walking. Let's walk."

Jeff and I exchange loaded looks of foreboding and doom. 

Somewhat reassured by Kirstin's statement that the zoo was "just down the hill," we began trekking in the general direction. Kirstin kept us moving on mostly level or downhill areas, so that was good. And she took us through some really scenic neighborhood. But one and a half miles in, I was starting to wonder just how far "down the hill" is. And then we came to another metro station, and the conversation again went something like this: 

Kirstin - "Do you guys want to keep walking, or take the metro?"

Sean - "How far away is it?"

Kirstin - "The entrance is between two metro stops, so it depends on which one you want to go to. So just one or two more stops. It's close-ish."

Sean, after looking at Jeff and I - "Let's walk."

Jeff and I  shift painfully from foot to foot and exchange glances of foreboding and doom.

A mile later, and Kirstin says we're "close-ish." By this time, we're starting to razz her. We figure our breakdown in communication lies in our relative understanding of the distance between metro stops. Sean and I--being used to NYC subways--figured two stops would be something like a mile, maybe a mile and half. Not three. One mile = close-ish. Three miles = take the metro.

And by now, Jeff is lagging a bit but trying not to show it. I'm lagging a bit and trying not to show it, but Sean must have a radar, because he drops back to ask me how I'm doing. At this point, my right foot is radiating pain into my toes, and the pad of the foot feels like I'm walking on bone, not muscle and skin. 

Tien Tien, the male panda

"I'm mostly fine," I say, "but do you have any Advil in your bag?" He doesn't. I say that it's fine, I'll power through anyway. But another block down, and the pain is excruciating. I went from legitimately being "mostly fine" to feeling like I have to amputate my foot. Luckily, there's a Walgreens, so I go in and buy some pills and a soda and dope myself up. I never dope up on pain meds of any kind, so that in itself is a signal of severity.

Then it's half a mile to the zoo. Then it's walking around and around the zoo. I'm trying not to limp. For whatever reason, it's just my right foot. Sean swears he's a little sore, too, but ironically he's doing the best out of all of us--even after his 6 mile run. Jeff is starting to sit down on any benches that present themselves when it appears that we're going to be stationary for more than 30 seconds. I'm afraid to sit down, because I don't know if I'll make it back up.

We finally call it quits in the zoo and hike back up the hill. Jeff suggests eating at the frozen yogurt place across from the entrance. I don't think anyone was very hungry, but I readily agree because I. am. in. so. much. friggin'. pain. 

Washed-out White House

We take our time at the yogurt shop and end up sitting for close to 40 minutes. At this point, we're on mile 9 or so. The pills are kicking in and the sitting has done me good, so when we get up, I'm the one that suggests we walk to the White House. I ignore Jeff's look of foreboding and doom. 

Half a mile down the road, and I'm fantasizing about chewing off my foot at the ankle. But I'm the one that suggested this trek, so I'm gonna suffer in silence, dammit. We make it to the White House and "ooh" and "ahh," then make our way back to the Mall. We stop in at a Cosi for coffee and the bathrooms, and Jeff again sacks out on a chair. After limping back from washing my hands, I join him. Sean is already there.

Coffees in hand, we head back out to the Mall. We walk down the length--which is pretty long on its own. We hit the Vietnam Wall, and I don't even want to walk the length of it--I say it's dark and I've seen it before, but the truth is, I'm still fantasizing about cutting off my foot. We're on mile 10, easy. Possibly even 12.

Washington Monument at dark

Then we cruise over to Lincoln and see him again at night from a distance, and take some awesome pictures of the Washington Monument. This is when Sean starts saying that it's really worth it to come in at dawn, and I'm starting to believe him, just because I don't want to walk the rest of the way. Then Jeff says that he's game to walk it all tonight AND tomorrow if we want to... he'll be fine.

So we cruise on over to the Korean War Memorial, then across the street to the Tidal Basin to peek in on MLK. We stop at the restrooms, and Jeff sacks out on a bench. It's obvious that he's in a lot of pain, and I'm cycling in and out of it. In the restroom, I tell Kirstin that I think we need to cut it short and find out where to eat dinner. When we get outside, Sean and I do one of those silent communication things that only married people on the same wavelength can pull off, and he agrees. So, we go see MLK since he's right there. As we're walking, I realize that I'm doing this as much for me as for Jeff, because dammit, pain is not supposed to spike up my toes like this. 

We see MLK and accidentally photo bomb some people, then head back to the far side of the Mall to try and find dinner. Halfway through, we give up and try to find a taxi. We finally find one, ask the driver to drop us off at a usually busy intersection, and when we get to the intersection to find food.....everything is closed. Sunday night off the Mall on Veteran's Day, and not an open eatery to be found--for under $60/plate. So we walk for four more blocks before we dive into an open joint. It's not even 7:30, but it feels like midnight. Jeff is dead on his feet, and just wants to go to bed. He encourages us to stay out, but none of us want to, either. As much pain as I'm in, I'm somewhat used to it. If he's on Phoenix time and just wants to go to bed, I know he's in serious pain.

So, though the metro stop is legitimately close (the joke of the weekend became adding "-ish" to the end of words to sarcastically indicate the opposite... "close-ish" for really far, "fun-ish" for misery, etc.), we hail the first cab we can find and ride it back to the hotel. We rationalize that splitting the cab fare three ways actually ends up cheaper than three metro tickets. 

Jeff heads up to the room immediately while Sean and I stop in the sundry shop for something sweet and some drinks. By the time we get up to the room, he's ready for bed and just waiting to climb in. 8:30 PM in Washington DC, and he's out like a light. 

Washington Monument at dawn, day 2

I end up being awake the longest. I beat both of the boys by more than an hour, and am ironically the second one up before dawn--Sean, of course, was first. We take a cab back down to Lincoln and walk the mall at dawn. I just have to get out of the car and see the sun starting to rise, the empty mall, and smell the fresh air to think, "this is so worth it."

So anyway, you're getting the point, I'm sure. We walk Lincoln and Korea and MLK and FDR and Jefferson and back to our hotel. And after Jefferson, it's becoming obvious that my right foot is fine, but now my left foot is spiking pain. But I say that walking back to the hotel is fine, even though we're already on two miles, and it's at least two miles back. I tough it out because it's a gorgeous day, but by the time we get back to the hotel, I can't hide my limp. 

So after all this walking, and the laps we did of Union Station and the Baltimore airport, when I was no longer trying to hide the fact that I was in pain... I'm feeling pretty low about myself that I'm wussing out after all this walking.

Jefferson Memorial at dawn on the Tidal Basin

Tidal Basin at dawn

Well, it turns out it's a legit problem, and not just because I'm out of shape. Apparently there's some sort of nerve bundle in that part of my foot that might need some form of surgery--so good news that I'm not just a wuss, but bad news on the whole nerve bundle thing.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial at dawn

Kirstin texted me that she could feel all of our trekking in her hip the next day--and we were 5 miles in before we met up with her.  Jeff was still recuperating himself. He spent a good deal of time rubbing his knee. The only person that appeared mostly unscathed was Sean. Of course. 

In fact, he just came to say goodnight, and peeked over my shoulder.

"You have me intrigued by your warnings at the top," he said.

"Yeah, I figured they're pretty accurate," I replied.

"Did you tell them about 'close-ish'?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did," I said.

"What about Marriott coffee?" 

I shuddered. "No, I didn't tell them about Marriott coffee. The post is getting really long, and besides.... it's not supposed to be a horror story."

He laughed. "True. Are you coming up to bed?"

"Soon-ish," I say.