
I can still vividly remember a time, not all that long ago, when a day at Walt Disney World felt like an exhilarating marathon I couldn’t wait to run. Back then, I tackled the parks with boundless energy—hopping between multiple parks in a single day, hitting all the must-do attractions, catching shows, and seeking out the best snacks. From rope drop to the final kiss goodnight, I was unstoppable. Sure, I’d leave the parks tired, maybe a little sweaty, but there was always that unmistakable smile plastered across my face—a look of pure satisfaction that only came from a full day of excitement, magic, and adventure.
Fast forward just a few years, and the picture looks much different. The same Disney days that used to leave me invigorated now leave me completely drained. I don’t just feel fatigued—I feel physically broken. My legs ache after hours of walking and standing, my muscles throb with pain, and there’s a persistent soreness that seems to linger for days after I return home. The kind of exhaustion I experience now isn’t just the fun “I-did-it-all” tired; it’s deep, relentless fatigue that takes a toll on my body and takes days to recover from.
And the kicker? I’m not even pushing myself as hard as I used to! Disney parks close earlier now than they did during what I consider my peak years, and even with fewer hours to fill, I often find myself calling it quits before the fireworks show begins. What used to be a full-speed sprint through the parks has slowed to a shuffle, interrupted by frequent stops to rest on whatever bench, ledge, or shaded corner I can find. It’s frustrating—and, frankly, a little disheartening—to realize that my body no longer matches the enthusiasm of my heart and mind.
In my prime Disney days, what made the experience so magical was the sense of possibility—the feeling that I could do it all, or at least try to. Of course, even back then, “doing it all” at Walt Disney World was an impossible feat—it’d take weeks, maybe even months, to see and do everything. But the thrill of chasing that impossible goal made it all the more fun. Now, in my mid-30s, the reality of physical limits has started to creep in, and it’s a strange, sobering feeling to watch my body give up on me before my Disney spirit does.
It’s not just the walking and standing that wear me down; it’s the cumulative effect of realizing my body can’t handle what it used to. Even short visits leave me struggling to keep up, and while I still love Disney with all my heart, it’s hard not to feel bummed when a simple park day starts to feel like a battle against my own body. I don’t want to say it’s ruining the magic, because I refuse to let it, but it’s certainly putting a damper on it. I never imagined that one day I’d spend more time looking for places to sit down than standing in line for my favorite attractions.
Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I could probably be in better shape, and maybe that’s part of the issue, but this isn’t a case of someone who’s let themselves go. I’ve scheduled an appointment with my orthopedic doctor to figure out what’s going on with my leg—maybe it’s something fixable, maybe it’s not. But it’s hard not to feel a little defeated that I even have to consider things like this. Do I rent a scooter or an ECV on my next trip if my doctor can’t find a solution? Maybe.
The truth is, I never expected to reach a point where physical limitations would play such a big role in how I experience Disney. It’s a bummer—there’s no other way to put it. Disney vacations were always about escapism for me, a chance to immerse myself in magic and leave my worries behind. Now, they’re starting to feel like something I need to recover from. And while I still hold out hope that I can address these aches and pains before my next trip, I can’t shake the fear that this is just the beginning—that the magic will get harder to hold onto as time goes on.
I still love Disney. I always will. But I wish I could go back to a time when Disney days left me with nothing but smiles and memories—not ice packs and sore muscles. Here’s hoping I can find a way to recapture that feeling, even if it means slowing down, taking breaks, or finding new ways to experience the parks.