These Boots Are NOT Made for Walking

As you know the kid is an irish dancer.  “Worlds” were held in Boston this year.  Our hotel was exactly 0.8 miles from the Hynes Convention Center.  Don’t ask me why, but I made that trip at least 6 times each way the first two days.  On the third day, I did the trip both ways twice plus one way back to the hotel to check out and head for home.  All the time walking it.  If you add in miscellaneous strolls, I walked at least 15 miles in a three day span.  Probably more.

Photo from the Fairmont Copley Hotel Website
Photo from the Fairmont Copley Hotel Website

At the hotel we stayed in, there was a rooftop gym.  The woman in the picture online looked like she was enjoying her workout so much while gazing out at the city.  I felt like I wanted to do that too.  So, as I was packing, I contemplated throwing in some workout clothes.  I said “contemplated.”  I didn’t actually do it.  The only footwear I packed were a pair of black riding boots and a pair of brown riding boots.

Warning:  Boots are not made for walking.  I don’t care what Nancy Sinatra says.  If I had just brought my workout clothes, I would have had my sneakers.  My nice, comfy, kooshie sneakers. And my feet would not have been battered, bruised and yes…bleeding.  On Day One I was the hare on a caffeine overdose.  By Day Three I was a 5″ stiletto wearing tortoise.   My feet were hating me and my brain was conjuring up images of my Nikes sitting on the floor of my closet crying for attention.

These are Lady Gaga's feet, not mine.  But you get the point.
These are Lady Gaga’s feet, not mine. But you get the point.

I am down 6.8 pounds since the start of my weight loss challenge.  After returning from my three day jaunt I didn’t gain an ounce.  Not one ounce.  I don’t need to say why I didn’t lose an ounce either.  I don’t care how much salmon and tuna I chose to eat for dinner.  I’m pretty sure the sauces weren’t made without their fair share of butter.  It also didn’t help that we stopped in a chocolate restaurant for a little treat.  Nothing like a white chocolate martini to end the day.  So, thank you Boston.  Thank you hotel.  Thank you convention center.  Thank you for the opportunity to walk off my sauces and chocolates.  My feet were sacrificed during the process, but I can live with that.

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