Up and Down; and Upchuck

In an effort to maintain some level of physical effort and not be total slugs, Sue and I formed a compact. We declared that unless we had to carry something of significant weight, we were to walk up and down the stairs to get from the condo to the beach. I agreed to the plan before I knew where the condo was situated. As it happens we’ve been staying in condo number 616.
The sixth floor.

Day One at the beach was not so bad; the energy supported by a certain exuberance that comes naturally when doing something exciting and new allowed me to leap up and down the stairs with a seemingly boundless energy. By the end of the first day I was drained, a little dehydrated, a little bit of sunburn (Did you know that even though one might sit in the shade, it is still possible to receive a sunburn from the mere reflection of the sun off the white sand beaches?), and a little too much beer.

I met the second day with a little less bounce in my step. Every time my foot made contact with the surface below it, I felt the sting of yesterday’s sunburn. Every time I inhaled, I felt the dryness of slight dehydration. With every step, my calf muscles burned from the previous day’s activity. Shortly after lunch, I had to make a trip back up the stairs to the condo. About half way up I vomited just a bit in my mouth. I cursed the stairs. At that moment I resolved that I would only take one more trip up for the rest of the day. We stayed on the beach until dinner time.

It’s Day Three of our beach vacation.

I hate the stairs.