On the third day, …

she walked barefoot. On the beach. For eight miles.

Boy, was that ever stupid.

My husband's plan for our Florida trip was to take a three-hour walk on the beach every day. First day was great, since it was only a two-hour walk. Heh. Walking on the sand was harder than we thought it would be.

Second day was way harder. You see, there's this thing called the tide. It comes in and goes out on a regular basis. When it's low tide, the beach is like a sidewalk, almost, only with seashells. On our first day, we happened to walk at low tide.

We thought we'd get the walking out of the way early on the second day, what a bad idea that was. When the tide comes in, the sand is soft and you can't help but get your shoes wet because there's no way you can walk comfortably in soft sand.

So we learned about the tides, since we must have skipped that day in elementary-school science class. My shoes were still wet the third day and I'd seen dozens of people walking barefoot on the beach, so I decided that was my only option.

What a bad idea that was. I was done, done, done after two hours. Unfortunately we walked for two hours and forty-eight minutes. The skin on my right heel was gone, leaving – well, you don't want to know what it looked like. I still have a blood blister on my right big toe.

At least I'm no longer limping.

Other than that, Florida was beautiful and warm and sunny and full of palm trees and orange groves and we had a wonderful time visiting my dad and his wife. We didn't want to leave at all. The contrast between blue seas and skies and brownish-grey hills is stark and dramatic. And depressing.

Know what else is depressing? After walking a total of 24 miles I haven't lost a single additional pound.

GrrrrrrrrrRRRRR!