While I was in Iceland, I didn't keep up with my usual workout routine. I did capoeira once and hit the gym not at all. There was plenty of walking - certainly hitting 10,000 steps a day - and quite a few hikes, including very strenuous ones. Our two weeks of trail volunteering were active; a friend said that thanks to "hauling rocks and digging weeds" I was "probably stronger than when [I] left," but that was an overoptimistic assessment. Frankly, none of the work left me sore, except for the first day with a lot of hammering, but that was specific, hammer-related muscles.
I went back to capoeira class Wednesday, which worked me over after less time than I usually put in. The next day at the gym nearly incapacitated me - although, to be fair, I went to two classes whereas one is my usual. So I was still sore when I woke up Saturday morning and had to hike because, you know, I was the leader.
"But that's okay," you're thinking. "The one thing you've said you kept in shape was your hiking muscles." Indeed, my body could have gallivanted up and down a few hills. But this hike was the only kind of hiking my body wasn't prepared for - is never prepared for: a beach hike. 12 miles of this:
Pretty, yes? But that's a lot of sand hiking. By the end, we were all glad to be done with this flat, only 13.2-mile hike, because it had taken its toll on us.
We did have a beautiful day for it, complete with "swimming" at Bellport Beach (in actuality, letting the waves knock us around). It looked very different than my scout of a few months ago, due to higher tides, better weather, and larger crowds.
Anyway, if you need me, I'll be at home, lying here helplessly.