I work out regularly and consider myself in pretty good physical shape, but I have to say Comic-Con kicked my butt, even though I was, at best, a part-time attendee. I’m swearing to myself that if I do this again, I should prepare myself for it physically and mentally specifically for the task. Off-hand, I think a regime (started at least 3 months in advance) which included a daily running of an obstacle course for 8 miles while carrying oddly-seized 25-pound packages; hosting several teen parties featuring hourly free-for-all pinatas within one small room; and seeking free parking and a sit-down dinner without reservations in North Beach between 7 and 8 pm on the same days as the Gay Pride Parade, Chinese New Year, and the North Beach Fair should do the trick. (Peter would add in all-night movie marathons on multiple screens, but he put more time into the show than I did.)
The show didn’t just require energy during it, it required energy beforehand as we were caught up in a flurry of last-minute preparations; it required energy around it, as we struggled to move and get food to eat while within the press of thousands; and it required energy after it, as we had to clean up and fix everything that had been ignored for weeks in favor of Comic-Con.
When I left for the show, I watered my vegetable garden heavily and chlorinated my pool. I thought when I returned, my plants would be dead and my pool would be dirty, but I had the opposite surprise. My plants were thriving, but my pool was all-too alive with a green color that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much chlorine I dumped in. It took me a week (and an industrial-strength algicide) to put my pool back in order. I’d planned to get Charybdis and Scylla back into session by Wednesday or Thursday, but my lesson plan is still undone, and next week will only have some informal “unschooling”-type activities. Through sheer force of will, Peter and I managed to do the grocery shopping, laundry, and catch up on some correspondence, and, oh yeah, celebrate my birthday. I also managed to come home with some sort of a cold, which took the form of extreme exhaustion more than anything else.
I wondered if my age was catching up to me, because I never remembered being this wiped out by Comic-Con before. But Peter reminded me it’s always been this way: I’ve just forgotten. Personally, I think an pre-Comic-Con exercise regime seems like a neccessity.