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The Receipts

The Body you Built Tourism for is NOT fine

There’s a very specific body tourism was built for. She wakes up ready. Walks all day. Eats whatever. Adjusts plans on the fly.

Mar 2026 4 min read Jenn Barbee

There’s a very specific body tourism was built for.

She wakes up ready. Walks all day. Eats whatever. Adjusts plans on the fly. Pushes through crowds, heat, delays, bad sleep, and still rallies for dinner like it’s part of the itinerary.

She is consistent. Predictable. High-functioning.

She is… fine.

And if we’re being honest, a lot of our strategies still assume she’s the default.

We build full-day itineraries. We reward volume. We measure success by how much someone did, how many places they went, how efficiently we kept them moving through the system.

It’s subtle, but it’s everywhere.


Except.

That’s not who’s actually showing up anymore.

Not in the numbers we think.

Autoimmune disease alone affects about 4.6% of Americans. But that’s the polite version of the story.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says 6 in 10 U.S. adults live with at least one chronic condition, and 4 in 10 live with two or more. The National Institute of Mental Health puts mental health conditions at about 1 in 5 adults each year.

So let’s just say it without churching it up:

A lot of your visitors are managing something.

Maybe it’s physical. Maybe it’s mental. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it comes and goes. Maybe they don’t even talk about it.

But it’s there, and it shows up in how they travel.


Debunked: More movement = More money

We sometimes operate like more movement = more money.

More stops. More tickets. More things stacked into a day. As Americans, we barely get PTO, so we assume everyone wants to get the most out of the trip, but the definition of "most" is subjective.

But I get it. That model worked when the assumption was that people could just keep going.

When energy isn’t predictable, that math starts to wobble. Because now the question isn’t: “What else can I do?” It’s: “What is this going to cost me later?”


What Happens Instead

People don’t stop spending; they stop wasting energy.

They become ruthless about it, actually.

They will:

  • skip three things and spend more on one that actually matters

  • book the better hotel because recovery is part of the trip now

  • stay longer in one place instead of doing the greatest hits tour

  • choose food they trust over food that’s “famous”

  • build in breaks like their life depends on it (because sometimes it does)

  • travel with someone, not solo

  • come back to the same destination again because it felt manageable

That is not a low-value traveler.


And you usually can’t see it

This is what makes it tricky. They look fine.

They’re in your attraction. They’re ordering dinner. They’re smiling in the photos.

You don’t see:

  • the two hours they spent recovering in the room

  • the thing they skipped that they actually wanted to do

  • the quiet “we should probably head back” moment

  • the trip they didn’t book at all because it felt like too much

So the data still says they showed up, but it doesn’t tell you what they couldn’t do.


Quick reality check on “wellness travel”

Yes, it’s booming.

But let’s not pretend all of that is green juice and intention-setting.

Some of it is people trying to not crash. Slow travel isn’t always aspirational.

Sometimes it’s survival with a good view.


So what do we actually do with this perspective?

Not a rebrand. Not a campaign.

Just… ease up on people.

And I mean that operationally, not emotionally.

1. Stop designing days like obstacle courses

If your “perfect day” requires stamina, you’ve already excluded people.

Give them permission to have a good trip that isn’t packed.

2. Make the basics ridiculously clear

Hours. Distance. Parking. Wait times. Food options. What something actually involves.

Clarity saves energy. Energy is currency now.

3. Design for fewer decisions

Every extra choice costs people something.

Bundle things. Simplify paths. Reduce the mental load of “figuring it out.”

4. Build in places to pause (and don’t hide them)

Benches, shade, quiet spaces, shorter routes, alternative entrances.

Not as an afterthought. As part of the experience.

5. Rethink what you’re measuring

If you’re only rewarding volume, your teams will keep pushing volume.

Start caring about:

  • length of stay

  • repeat visits

  • satisfaction

  • “that felt easy”

Easy is not lazy. Easy is strategic.

6. Respect food as infrastructure

Ingredient transparency. Predictability. Options that don’t feel like a gamble.

People are making destination decisions based on this more than we admit.

7. Make “one great thing” enough

Not everyone needs five highlights.

If someone does one thing and leaves thinking, “that was perfect,” you did your job.


The uncomfortable truth

We built tourism for a body that could push through.

A body that could override signals, ignore limits, and keep going.

A lot of people don’t travel like that anymore.

Or can’t.


The shift

More movement does not automatically equal more money.

Sometimes it just creates tired people who don’t come back.


And the opportunity here isn’t to slow everything down.

It’s to design experiences that work for the people who are already in your market.

Because they’re still traveling.

They’re just choosing very, very carefully.


I’m Jenn Barbee… and if your entire strategy depends on people pushing through, it’s deeply flawed. 😏

Originally published on LinkedIn, Mar 2026. This is its home now.

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