I swear every time I pack my backpack in preparation for another move, it’s internally 5 square inches smaller and yet 10 pounds heavier when I put it on. I still haven’t weighed the thing yet, but it has got to be at least 40 pounds. Most people who pick it up for me–man or woman–groan with the effort and look at me with astonishment.
“Do I surprise you?” I think.
I should get a picture of me with my backpack on a some point; it really is half as big as I am.
The nice thing about carting that kind of luggage around is that my legs are stronger–which makes running easier–and my arms are slowly getting back their definition from my gymnastics days.
I guess it’s all that lugging, lifting, and shoving into tight places in trains, planes, and automobiles.