Last weekend, Zdenek and I packed Ryder, a travel crib, and two suitcases worth of bibs, diapers, onesies, rompers, and bottles, and we headed off with good friends to the Poconos in Pennsylvania. Departing NYC in our rental car at 4 pm on a Friday in the summer was a brave (stupid?) move, especially considering that it was in the middle of a record-breaking heat wave. Never mind: we strapped Ryder into his car seat, scattered a few teething toys around him, and hoped for the best.
Despite the heat, the boy handled things pretty well for the first 90 minutes or so. He played with his toys, stared out the window, and eventually dozed off for half an hour. But upon waking, he realized that (a) he was still restrained, (b) it was pretty close to his dinnertime, and (c) it was almost bed time. And that's when the screaming started. Mom and Dad, unaccustomed to traveling with Ryder in a car, didn't know what to do. We were stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic across five lanes, and, according to the map feature on my iPhone, were pretty much going to stay that way for the next 40 minutes. So I headed into the backseat to distract my boy with silly sounds and peek-a-boo, which worked -- for a while. But when Ryder finally decided that he had really had enough (or rather, when we decided that we couldn't handle the screaming anymore), we had to make a quick turn-off to feed him and take a break. He was delighted. Then we strapped him in again, and he screamed the rest of the way to our destination.
I realize that most parents travel everywhere by car with their little ones, and screaming is probably par for the course. But for Zdenek, Ryder, and me, this was a pretty novel experience. I think I've figured out why: Ryder is rarely restrained for more than 15 minutes at a time, and when he is, he's got an impressive number of cars, people, dogs, trees, etc. to entertain him. We go everywhere by foot. He's out our door and at the store within 10 minutes. He's at the Park within 15, and then promptly put on the swing. He never, ever has to wait or sit patiently. For anything. I am sure that New Yorkers' impatience and short fuses are nurtured from birth.
I can only hope that Ryder's detest for sitting idle will some day translate into a super-energetic, over-achieving athleticism. Until then, my little Manhattanite will continue to live life in the fast lane from the comfort of his stroller.
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Monday, August 1, 2011
Friday, September 10, 2010
The run-down in 250 words or less
Ole!
So what if Spaniards don't eat paella at night? We're not Spanish!
Testing out the best pastry shop in Seville...
...and a few moments later 
Madrid & me
Retiro Park was so pretty, we decided to take a run in there the next day
Jambon, anyone?
The suckling pigs beforehand
Pig on a plate
Tourist
Double-fisting
A very hot day in Seville
Self-portrait, Seville
Another tourist
Strolling through Ronda
Inside Alhambra
More Alhambra
And another one
We took a lot of photos in there -- it was stunning!
Gorgeous Granada and a view I had a hard time leaving
Our trusty beemer helped us survive Spanish roads and drivers
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The Spain run-down
Having just returned from a beautiful trip to Spain, I think I have finally learned how to correctly assess accommodation. If the directions to the accommodation include the phrases, “up the hill,” “keep going,” and “located right at the top,” and especially if they mention something about a 4WD being absolutely essential, then I should expect my running opportunities to be both limited and difficult.
To be fair, the point of this vacation wasn’t supposed to be about running, but I have a hard time sitting motionless for any longer than two or three days at a time. Fortunately for me, Zdenek and I were on our feet almost all of the time -- in fact, of 11 days, I think only three of them qualify as lazy lounging days. We arrived in Madrid, jetlagged and exhausted after barely catching more than a couple hours of shut-eye on the flight over (and Zdenek even less so due to the very rude passenger behind him who refused to let Zdenek recline his seat by even one inch). After a snooze in our hotel room, we hit the streets of Madrid to find them baking hot but remarkably clean. Three days and at least 15-18 miles of walking later, we had traversed most of the major sites by foot and were left thoroughly impressed by the vibrancy, architectural beauty, and spotlessness of the Spanish capital. We even managed a 5.5 mile run by completing two loops around Retiro Park -- Madrid’s answer to New York’s Central Park. It wasn’t quite as spacious as our favourite piece of home turf, but the lack of humidity more than made up for this.
Next we headed to Seville, at which point in the trip I wound up horribly sick and unable to find any pharmacist willing to dispense a single drug to me in my embarazada state. So I suffered through the 40+ degree heat by mostly staying inside my hotel room, feeling miserable, and making poor Zdenek’s life miserable, too (sorry, honey). We did manage to enjoy most of what this historic and charming city has to offer, though, including an excellent flamenco show in the birthplace of the dance itself.
Just as I was feeling a bit better, we headed to the Costa del Sol to hobnob with Europe’s rich and famous and see the surrounding areas (including Ronda and Granada -- I cannot recommend the latter highly enough). Here, we plunked down for six nights in a hillside villa overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. I did manage to run on four days during our stay in Marbella -- it was straight up and straight down in each direction, providing an excellent workout for my quads and butt irrespective of my slow speed. But similar to our stay in Costa Rica earlier in the year, I’m pretty sure that these accommodations were not situated with long, relaxing runs in mind.
For better or worse, though, I simply had to get out there as much as possible. I read Born to Run on this vacation, and if there was ever a book to inspire you to run far and frequently, this is it. (I even became moderately convinced of the merits of barefoot running, and I do intend to try out the shoeless approach -- or something approximating it -- very soon.) I was reminded that running is truly the healthiest and most natural thing we can ever do for our bodies and our minds, and that, indeed, we wouldn’t be here today had our ancestors not been endurance runners themselves. Every time I read even a few pages of this book, I was itching to put it down and change into my running shoes -- blazing sun, lingering sickness, and lazy Spanish days be dammed. (Next time, if I really intend on relaxing, I think I need to book accommodation even higher on the mountain or re-think my choice of vacation reading material.)
And after arriving back in NYC following more than 15 hours of travel, the first thing Zdenek and I did was change into our shorts and head out for a four mile run in Central Park. It was, after all, our final vacation day.
To be fair, the point of this vacation wasn’t supposed to be about running, but I have a hard time sitting motionless for any longer than two or three days at a time. Fortunately for me, Zdenek and I were on our feet almost all of the time -- in fact, of 11 days, I think only three of them qualify as lazy lounging days. We arrived in Madrid, jetlagged and exhausted after barely catching more than a couple hours of shut-eye on the flight over (and Zdenek even less so due to the very rude passenger behind him who refused to let Zdenek recline his seat by even one inch). After a snooze in our hotel room, we hit the streets of Madrid to find them baking hot but remarkably clean. Three days and at least 15-18 miles of walking later, we had traversed most of the major sites by foot and were left thoroughly impressed by the vibrancy, architectural beauty, and spotlessness of the Spanish capital. We even managed a 5.5 mile run by completing two loops around Retiro Park -- Madrid’s answer to New York’s Central Park. It wasn’t quite as spacious as our favourite piece of home turf, but the lack of humidity more than made up for this.
Next we headed to Seville, at which point in the trip I wound up horribly sick and unable to find any pharmacist willing to dispense a single drug to me in my embarazada state. So I suffered through the 40+ degree heat by mostly staying inside my hotel room, feeling miserable, and making poor Zdenek’s life miserable, too (sorry, honey). We did manage to enjoy most of what this historic and charming city has to offer, though, including an excellent flamenco show in the birthplace of the dance itself.
Just as I was feeling a bit better, we headed to the Costa del Sol to hobnob with Europe’s rich and famous and see the surrounding areas (including Ronda and Granada -- I cannot recommend the latter highly enough). Here, we plunked down for six nights in a hillside villa overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. I did manage to run on four days during our stay in Marbella -- it was straight up and straight down in each direction, providing an excellent workout for my quads and butt irrespective of my slow speed. But similar to our stay in Costa Rica earlier in the year, I’m pretty sure that these accommodations were not situated with long, relaxing runs in mind.
For better or worse, though, I simply had to get out there as much as possible. I read Born to Run on this vacation, and if there was ever a book to inspire you to run far and frequently, this is it. (I even became moderately convinced of the merits of barefoot running, and I do intend to try out the shoeless approach -- or something approximating it -- very soon.) I was reminded that running is truly the healthiest and most natural thing we can ever do for our bodies and our minds, and that, indeed, we wouldn’t be here today had our ancestors not been endurance runners themselves. Every time I read even a few pages of this book, I was itching to put it down and change into my running shoes -- blazing sun, lingering sickness, and lazy Spanish days be dammed. (Next time, if I really intend on relaxing, I think I need to book accommodation even higher on the mountain or re-think my choice of vacation reading material.)
And after arriving back in NYC following more than 15 hours of travel, the first thing Zdenek and I did was change into our shorts and head out for a four mile run in Central Park. It was, after all, our final vacation day.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Siesta time
This week has been a bit of a bummer weather-wise. I had not one, but two runs in the pouring rain, and Tuesday’s bike ride was wet, windy, and hard. But this morning the clouds and rain cleared away, leaving behind only sunny skies and a beautiful temperature. It took a little longer than usual for Zdenek and me to get out of bed and out the door (our accumulated sleep deficit is really starting to take its toll), but I’m glad we rallied. Today’s ride was perfect in every way: fast, fun, and rewarding. Although it’s gradually becoming uncomfortable for me to assume the most aerodynamic position on my bike, I can still manage, and even at five months my body is cooperating enough to allow me to ride long and hard.
It’s now been 18 consecutive runs or rides for me (my last “rest day” was the day we flew back from our Canadian vacation), so I think I’m long overdue for a little sun and siesta. Good thing, since Zdenek and I are off to Spain! The temperatures will be blistering hot, but I’m counting on long afternoon snoozes by the beach and pool to get me through. We like to refer to this vacation as our “last hurrah” -- meaning the last real vacation we’ll have in this life as we know it. And while we've been known to spend portions of supposedly “relaxing” vacations by subjecting ourselves to torturous hikes or itineraries, this time, I think the circumstances will force us to take it easy. (I did pack my running shoes, though -- just in case.)
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Ups and downs
Upon arriving in Costa Rica and driving to our hotel, one thing became abundantly clear: there would be no running on this holiday. Zdenek and I ran 20 miles on the day before our departure, and we were looking forward to fitting in two or three solid runs during our five days in Costa Rica. But somewhere between passing a large sign saying, “4x4 only beyond this point,” and, a mile later, hanging on to the Bego’s door afraid that I might fall into the backseat, I realized that we were not staying in running-friendly territory. Nope, we were going to have to be content with cross-training only.
On the first day, we decided to get a feel for our surroundings by taking a five mile “hike” through the Costa Rican mountains. We climbed several hundred feet to the top of the cloud forest before descending another thousand feet (or more), and then hiking all the way back up again. The average grade of the hill was 20%. It hurt coming down, and it was excruciating going up. Several kind folks making the trip up the mountain in 4x4s stopped to offer us a ride. Two American surfers stopped not once, but twice, aghast that we were actually attempting to walk up the mountain. The temperature was somewhere near 30 or 35 degrees Celsius, we ran out of water, and we were walking uphill in the full glare of the sun.
That was day one. My butt didn’t stop hurting until day four. And every time we drove that road for the next four days, Zdenek and I shook our heads incredulously, not quite believing that we had ever actually made this journey by foot. (I think that, in some respects, this was an okay substitution for our scheduled Wednesday hill workout.)
On day two, Zdenek and I got out of bed at 5:30 am to see if we could find the Howler Monkeys in the jungle. We decided to head to the waterfall about a mile away, since one of the hotel workers mentioned that the monkeys like to hang out there in the morning. This was another 20%-grade descent and climb back up. My legs wobbled the entire team. We didn’t see any monkeys.
On the afternoon of day two, we decided to go horseback riding for several hours during the hottest part of the day. Although we got to stop and swim in a waterfall for 45 minutes midway through the trip, I was barely able to stand up in the stirrups because my legs were in such pain. The next day, my butt hurt in all new places, and didn’t really stop hurting until day five.
On day three, we decided to drink margaritas and beer and beach hop.
On day four, we still did not feel sufficiently recovered to do anything more than laze around the pool. In the afternoon, I attended “flip-turn” camp in the pool, practicing my flip-turns again and again while Zdenek watched me from under the water and gave pointers. I do believe that my flip turns improved considerably.
On day five, flip-turn camp resumed in the morning, and we then headed out for an afternoon of crazy ziplining. We choose the biggest, baddest ziplines in the vicinity, and ones which several other ziplining experts said made every other zipline look like Disneyland. I’m glad I did it, but it wasn’t the huge thrill I was hoping it would be. I’m wondering if another margarita or two would have served me better.
And on day six, we drove 3.5 hours, flew five hours, and descended through a Nor’easter with some of the worst turbulence ever. We then proceeded to wait in the taxi queue for what I’m sure was at least one hour, after having already waited an hour for a reserved black car that never arrived.
Shortly before I left for vacation, I read about an interesting study suggesting that the act of taking vacations does not boost one’s happiness, whereas the act of planning for the vacation makes one very happy indeed. Time to start planning my next one.
On the first day, we decided to get a feel for our surroundings by taking a five mile “hike” through the Costa Rican mountains. We climbed several hundred feet to the top of the cloud forest before descending another thousand feet (or more), and then hiking all the way back up again. The average grade of the hill was 20%. It hurt coming down, and it was excruciating going up. Several kind folks making the trip up the mountain in 4x4s stopped to offer us a ride. Two American surfers stopped not once, but twice, aghast that we were actually attempting to walk up the mountain. The temperature was somewhere near 30 or 35 degrees Celsius, we ran out of water, and we were walking uphill in the full glare of the sun.
That was day one. My butt didn’t stop hurting until day four. And every time we drove that road for the next four days, Zdenek and I shook our heads incredulously, not quite believing that we had ever actually made this journey by foot. (I think that, in some respects, this was an okay substitution for our scheduled Wednesday hill workout.)
On day two, Zdenek and I got out of bed at 5:30 am to see if we could find the Howler Monkeys in the jungle. We decided to head to the waterfall about a mile away, since one of the hotel workers mentioned that the monkeys like to hang out there in the morning. This was another 20%-grade descent and climb back up. My legs wobbled the entire team. We didn’t see any monkeys.
On the afternoon of day two, we decided to go horseback riding for several hours during the hottest part of the day. Although we got to stop and swim in a waterfall for 45 minutes midway through the trip, I was barely able to stand up in the stirrups because my legs were in such pain. The next day, my butt hurt in all new places, and didn’t really stop hurting until day five.
On day three, we decided to drink margaritas and beer and beach hop.
On day four, we still did not feel sufficiently recovered to do anything more than laze around the pool. In the afternoon, I attended “flip-turn” camp in the pool, practicing my flip-turns again and again while Zdenek watched me from under the water and gave pointers. I do believe that my flip turns improved considerably.
On day five, flip-turn camp resumed in the morning, and we then headed out for an afternoon of crazy ziplining. We choose the biggest, baddest ziplines in the vicinity, and ones which several other ziplining experts said made every other zipline look like Disneyland. I’m glad I did it, but it wasn’t the huge thrill I was hoping it would be. I’m wondering if another margarita or two would have served me better.
And on day six, we drove 3.5 hours, flew five hours, and descended through a Nor’easter with some of the worst turbulence ever. We then proceeded to wait in the taxi queue for what I’m sure was at least one hour, after having already waited an hour for a reserved black car that never arrived.
Shortly before I left for vacation, I read about an interesting study suggesting that the act of taking vacations does not boost one’s happiness, whereas the act of planning for the vacation makes one very happy indeed. Time to start planning my next one.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
A (scheduled) change of pace
Although I'm battling a cold (possibly brought on by my race-like effort on Sunday) and am in desperate need of more sleep, the quality of my runs and swim this week have been second to none. I'm really enjoying this round of marathon training and I get the feeling that Zdenek is, too.
One reason I know that running has become the dominant force in our lives is that we both now consider training schedules when planning our vacations. It's nice to have Zdenek on board; in the past, I've been the only one to worry about missing my 10x400 m repeats while sailing in the Galapagos Islands or finding time to run 18 miles before work on Friday morning in preparation for a weekend away. Now, though, Zdenek and I both consider our training program when figuring out how, where, and when to get away.
I'm excited (almost giddy) to report that we have just booked a Costa Rican March getaway to stay in luxury on a nature preserve (and we've already settled on a plan to fit in our runs before, during, and after the trip). I can barely contain myself thinking of days filled with hikes in the rain forests, zip lining through the canopies, and horseback riding on the beach (pictured above), all interspersed with spa treatments, gourmet seafood, and fresh cocktails. March 7 cannot come soon enough.
Neither Zdenek nor I have done a vacation like this before -- in the past, we've driven or sailed thousands of miles in the course of a week or two, trying to fit in as many educational and sight-seeing opportunities as possible. While such holidays have always been enjoyable and exciting, they've typically been far from relaxing. We're anticipating that our trip to Costa Rica will be a departure in every sense of the word. Besides, we already spend enough time focused on covering our ground as quickly as possible.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Live from Cape Breton Island
During our last day on Cape Breton Island, we visited the Red Shoe Pub in Mabou, home of the Rankin Family. We were treated to a Ceilidh by some talented young locals, and I decided to record a bit so that everyone could enjoy. So, enjoy!
Jodi & Zdenek go to the Maritimes (and even spot a moose)!
It was mostly cold, almost always cloudy, and we drove way too much. Indeed, it wasn't what one might call a "vacation," and it has sort of left us feeling like we could use one. Rather, we'll remember this trip for what it was: a history lesson, a chance to explore an important part of our home country, and an opportunity to indulge in some of the world's best seafood. Here are a few of the shots we were able to take through fog and clouds.
Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia
(Day one; we're trying not to let the crappy weather get us down)
In Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, aboard the Bluenose II
Sea Caves at St Martins, New Brunswick, during low tide
We had "World Famous Chowder" here, and it seriously lived up to its name!
Fundy National Park, New Brunswick
It was dark and rainy, and we had the Park to ourselves.
A rainforest-like setting in Fundy National Park
Have you seen bigger lobsters?!
(We took a 1.5-pounder home with us.)
Cape Enrage in New Brunswick
(Once again, we were the only two people around, as was the case for much of our trip.)
We spotted a whale here!
The magnificent Hopewell Rocks at the Bay of Fundy
At high tide, the water goes up to the trees!
The "Apple" rock
What the...?
Mmmmm.....
This is about the best weather we got in Prince Edward Island
Most delicious Cows ice cream in PEI
It was dark and pretty miserable, but PEI was still stunning
Lupins, lupins, everywhere!
Zdenek and our first Prime Minister
(Once again, we were the only two people in the place.)
We sampled many delicious microbrews along the way
Confederation House in PEI, upon which they were displaying a Canada Day light show
The wet and foggy beginning of the stunning Cabot Trail
Near Meat Cove on the Cabot Trail, Cape Breton Island
(Someone must have taken pity on us and decided to show us a bit of blue sky.)
Moose!!!
The picturesque Cabot Trail
This looks a lot like Manhattan
Not wanting to leave after finding the one sunny spot on the Island
A soggy, miserable day at Louisbourg, Cape Breton Island
Why the French and the English actually waged battle over this terrible place is beyond us!
A few rays of sunshine at Inverness Beach, Cape Breton (it was still cold, though)
I had a hard time leaving my beer; this was the first (and last) sunshine we saw in days
At the Glenora whiskey distillery in Cape Breton
C'est tout!
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