I travel a lot, and at times I imagine that I’m quite good at it. I know how to arrange a round the world trip, I can keep calm when airport security are horrible, and I can accurately judge the weight of my suitcase.  But I haven’t been able to train my body to cope with long distance flights.

Yesterday’s flight has left me out of sorts as my body objected to being in the air for thirteen and a half hours.  Between planes, trains, and waiting around it took me about twenty hours to get home.  When I did get  home I broke the rules and climbed into bed after a shower knowing that Marty would wake me when he got home from work. I woke in pain.  My knee joints were stiff, swollen and bruised, my wrists ached, my head throbbed from the start of a sinus infection, and the ankles I misplaced somewhere over Russia sadly hadn’t made an appearance yet. Being described as a “puffball” didn’t do a lot for my mood but given that even my face and eyes had swollen it may have been an accurate description.

My next flight is in twelve days.