For anyone who happens to be planning a leisure trip in the next few months, I have a piece of advice. As soon as you arrive in Boston or Bosnia or Bermuda or your location of choice, find a large hill (preferably with a view of the ocean), pack a bottle of water, and walk up and down the incline until your legs are horribly sore.

The reason I recommend this apparently blockheaded course of action is that I inadvertently tried it out myself. After months of treading across flat Midwestern landscapes, a few hours of hiking uphill at Torrey Pines State Reserve left my shins painfully splinted.

For the last couple of days of my sojourn in the southwest, walking became a sort of hop from my painful left leg to my painful right leg to my painful left leg. To make it bearable, I had to bend my legs as little as possible, which kept me walking at half-speed and gave me the gait of a crippled robot.

Here’s the thing, though. After a minute or two of frustration and despondency, and a nice Italian dinner, I started using the extra time while trudging along at snail-racing velocity to look around. With so many details of a new city around me, there was suddenly very little to think about and a whole lot to pay attention to. What’s the use of being in a new place if you can’t pay attention?

So the key to satisfying travel, I say, is a leg injury. And a nice Italian dinner.