#run31: running on vacation.

Running has brought me many unexpected joys: as previously stated, I never expected to try it at all, let alone love it this much. But even after I discovered the meditative, satisfying qualities of running, I mostly expected that to be part of my daily life. I was surprised to discover that running on vacation is its own particular pleasure.

I started my vacation running by going back home: I packed my gear for Christmas vacation, the year I became a runner. My in-laws had recently moved to a new town in East Texas, and I came to enjoy running around a local park and the surrounding neighborhood. (I did hop on the hotel treadmill one rainy day when I got desperate, but I’d much rather run outside.) And I love morning runs around my parents’ neighborhood: they live in a quiet subdivision with wide streets, and I have taken myself out there in all seasons, enjoying the big Texas skies, the sunshine, and (in December) the neighbors’ creative Christmas decorations. (Bonus: it’s often a dose of much-needed solitude during crowded family holidays.)

I’ve taken my sneakers on a few other trips, so far: I loved running the High Line in Manhattan, and I did a big loop around Prospect Park in Brooklyn last summer. My favorite place to run, other than Boston, might be Coronado Island in San Diego: I’ve visited friends there several times, and relished morning runs around the island, past palm trees and the golf course and all manner of blooming flowers.

Running is a way for me to pay attention as I move through the world, so it adds a new dimension to any place I’m visiting. I love running past tall apartment buildings and corner delis, through winding neighborhoods with wide curving roads, past whatever local features, natural or human-made, dot the landscape. I love how I notice different details when I’m on foot rather than whooshing by in a car or a bus. And the particular qualities of each place – the feel of the air, the strength of the sun, the humidity, the altitude, the smells and sounds – all combine to form indelible memories that add to my experience of each trip.

I’m not doing much traveling at the moment, of course, but am looking forward to lacing up my sneakers in new places when it’s safe to go on long-distance adventures again.

If you run (or otherwise exercise), do you do it on vacation?

Read Full Post »

Afternoon in Cobble Hill

One of my favorite things about NYC: there are endless new neighborhoods to explore.

I love returning to my well-loved haunts there. I’ve spent some time in Fort Greene, and I was happy to revisit Park Slope (especially the Chocolate Room) on this most recent trip. But on Saturday, I decided to walk a few blocks west and wander Cobble Hill – partly motivated, you will not be surprised, by a bookstore.

Novelist Emma Straub opened a bookstore, aptly named Books Are Magic, a while back. It was an easy walk from my Airbnb, so I headed that way, grabbing an iced tea and popping into a few shops. I bought a long green dream of a dress at Something Else, then headed for the bookstore. It was well-lit and well-stocked, a little bit funky and yes, a little bit magical.

I browsed for a while, dipping into novels and mysteries, and saying “amen” to a fellow customer who was recommending Anne Lamott to her friend. (Bird by Bird!) I picked up a fun kids’ mystery featuring Agatha Oddly, then went down the street for an early dinner at Jolie – the only French-Mexican bistro I’ve ever seen.

Even though I’m living in Eastie, land of delicious tacos, I rarely pass up an opportunity for good Mexican food. The enchiladas, the fresh guacamole, and the late afternoon light at Jolie were all perfect.

My next stop was Whisk, which I discovered a while back via their store near the Flatiron Building in Manhattan. That location has closed, but their main store is in Cobble Hill, so I popped in to buy a couple of new tea strainers. (I can always use them.) From there, I headed for the subway and my Saturday-night plans: Come From Away, which I adored.

I was a little bit worried about coming to Brooklyn: it holds some tender associations for me. But I was very glad to discover a new pocket of it for myself, and make some new memories.

Read Full Post »

tomorrow we will run faster

Since I started running, I’ve done a few short races, mostly local: there’s the Halfway to Dot Day 5K, held every December on my beloved Neponset River trail. The hubs and I also ran a 5K in neighboring Quincy (where we used to live) last spring, and I stretched myself to run an 8K through downtown Boston on a seriously hot, humid Labor Day last fall.

We recently flew to San Diego to visit friends and escape the lingering winter chill here, and spent a Saturday morning doing a different kind of 5K: a costume run. Superhero-themed, naturally.

I’ve been kind of obsessed with Wonder Woman since the 2017 movie, and the hubs has bought me a pair of amazing socks (with their own star-spangled capes!) and a full-on costume, parts of which I pulled out for the run (see above). He donned a Captain America T-shirt, and we both wore the shiny capes that came with race registration: blue for him, red for me. I kept saying, “Don’t tell Edna” – because we all know she doesn’t approve of capes.

The course wound around the Embarcadero, next to the bay, past boats and hotels and the water glinting in the sunshine. It was a glorious sunny morning, and I ran to – what else? – my Wonder Woman playlist.

There were lots of kids (and adults) decked out, and lots of Wonder Woman gear, which made me so happy. I was fighting a wicked cold, so had to spend the afternoon on the couch after the race. But the experience was entirely worth it.

If you’re a runner, have you done a costumed run? I’d happily do this again – such a great atmosphere, and an excellent chance to impersonate my favorite Amazon warrior.

Read Full Post »

Saturday in South Park

On our previous two trips to San Diego, J and I have mostly spent time on Coronado, the idyllic island across the bay from the city proper. It was home base this time, too, and we took full advantage of its delights: Bay Books, the Hotel del Coronado and its adjacent beach, tacos at Clayton’s and several long runs through its beautiful streets in the sunshine.

This time, Allison and I also spent a good chunk of our Saturday exploring a new-to-me neighborhood: South Park. We began with a yoga class at Pilgrimage of the Heart Yoga, up in Normal Heights, then hopped on bikes for the rest of our journey.

First stop: acai bowls at Captain Kirk’s Coffee. I’d never had one, but they’re sort of like a cross between a smoothie and fro-yo, topped (in this case) with granola, fresh fruit and coconut. Yum.

We popped into Target (always worth a visit, right?), wandered the neighborhood, and found – what else? – the bookstore. The Book Catapult, to be exact.

It’s no secret that I love an indie bookstore, and this one was just perfect. It’s open and airy but crammed with good books of every kind, from fiction and travel to local interest, nonfiction and a fabulous children’s and young adult section in the back.

Allison and I had a wonderful chat with Vanessa, who was working the register and is a contributing writer for Book Riot. We bonded over YA novels (The Hate U Give, Moxie, When Dimple Met Rishi) and our respective book-nerd haunts online (mine is Shelf Awareness). I came away with a wonderful travel guide to Spain and a fun travel-themed novel.

We were starving by then, so we enjoyed tacos at Del Sur (above) – it was Tacopocalypse, after all. A bit more wandering and then we headed up to North Park to meet the guys. I couldn’t resist a stop at Verbatim Books, a wonderful (mostly) used bookstore.

I could have spent so much money, but restricted myself to a like-new copy of Ruth Reichl’s My Kitchen Year, which I loved but hadn’t quite brought myself to splurge on.

We dipped into Pigment, which is full of whimsical and gorgeous things, before meeting up with our husbands and heading back home.

As I joked to Allison, our Saturday was like a postcard of California: yoga, a bike ride for acai bowls, wandering, tacos, flowers, blue sky. But in case you couldn’t tell, I loved every minute.

Read Full Post »

Three days in Boise

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself on a westbound plane, traveling way past my usual west Texas destination. Some beloved friends of mine moved from Boston to Boise last spring, and welcomed their second daughter right after Christmas. So I hopped a plane to the “big sky” country and spent several days soaking up time with my dear ones and exploring a brand-new place.

Abigail and I, and our respective husbands, have been friends since our college years. We all – plus our friend Shanna – moved to Boston together in 2010, and the five of us got one another through that first difficult year (and snow-covered winter). I’ve missed Abi dreadfully since they moved, and we hardly stopped talking the whole time I was there.

We spent an afternoon wandering downtown Boise: visiting the Capitol (above), Goldy’s for a delicious brunch, Rediscovered Books for copies of the new Flavia de Luce mystery, and Snake River Tea for some afternoon caffeine.

Of course, a main object of my visit was meeting this little lady.

Miss Genevieve is a sunny little thing – happy to snuggle or just hang out, and fascinated by her big sister, Evie. We had lots of cuddle time while watching the Olympics, and I think we’re going to be friends.

On Saturday, Abi and I drove with the girls up to Table Rock, high above Treasure Valley, where Boise sits. It was cold and windy – more so than we expected – at the top, and Genevieve was not impressed. (Poor baby girl.) But once Miss E adjusted, she was fascinated by the views and the rocks. “I want to go to the edge!”

We all had a delicious dinner at Fork that night, and we spent most of Sunday out in nearby Caldwell, where a lot of Abi’s extended family lives. I’ve known Abi’s parents for years, and it was so fun to see them and slide right back into the cheery family chaos at their house. I loved seeing Abi’s sister Bailey, who is my friend and a former student, and meeting a few other relatives I’d heard about over the years. Also: white chicken chili + Olympic speed skating + cheesy jokes from Abi’s dad, Allen = feeling right at home.

It wouldn’t be a Katie-and-Abi weekend without lots of tea. This was Sunday afternoon: Earl Grey, of course. We both love it, but Abi is an Earl Grey connoisseur.

There’s a little park around the corner from Abi and Nate’s house, and I went for a couple of runs there. It was my first time running in high altitude (Boise is about 2,700 feet above sea level), which was a challenge. But I loved the mountain views and the pink sky.

Mostly, it was so good to be together: washing dishes, cooking dinner, watching the Olympics, talking and talking and talking. We folded laundry and made scones, and Evie climbed into my bed to cuddle on a couple of mornings. Nate gave me the tour of his workplace and we traded stories about work and church and classes. And Abi and I talked about nearly everything under the sun.

I’d never imagined myself hopping a plane to Boise. But after this visit, I can say for sure: I’ll be going back.

Read Full Post »

Weekend in Halifax

After our glorious five nights/four days in PEI, the hubs and I headed to Halifax for the weekend. We’d never been there, and we thoroughly enjoyed checking out this smallish, vibrant city on the water.

I’ve said it before: on vacation, we like to wander and we like to eat. That is exactly what we did in Halifax, for two days.

We arrived on a Friday afternoon, checked into our Airbnb apartment, and immediately went a-wandering. We found the Halifax Common, and a few streets away, DeeDee’s ice cream.

(J’s berry-swirl ice cream happened to match his polo.)

I had raspberry passionfruit sorbet, which is as tart and delicious as it sounds.

We strolled the neighborhood a while longer, then drove down to the waterfront that evening for dinner at the Bicycle Thief.

While we were waiting for our reservation (it was crowded), we walked along the harbourfront. Live musicians, food trucks, cool old ships, and lots of families out enjoying the lovely evening.

When we did have dinner, it was delicious. I had a truly amazing lobster-corn chowder with new potatoes and bacon. (Also: their bread is focaccia and it’s homemade. Yum.)

We sat outside, and the view was as fantastic as the food.

We wandered around town in the long dusk, and split a decadent chocolate torte with raspberry sauce at the Middle Spoon. I could not get a good picture, but it was scrumptious.

The next morning, we headed to Annie’s Place for breakfast.

Annie herself welcomed us, and we had huge chai lattes (not that either of us were complaining) and excellent eggs, bacon and toast.

We spent most of the day exploring after that. First up was Woozles, an utterly charming children’s bookstore down the street from Annie’s.

We didn’t spot any Heffalumps (or Woozles), but there were plenty of gorgeous books.

We also stopped by Bookmark – I’d been to their Charlottetown store, but enjoyed exploring this location.

The Halifax Public Gardens are close by, and they are gorgeous.

We’d heard the Halifax Central Library was worth seeing – though, to me, a library is always worth seeing. This one did not disappoint.

We ate lunch at the Seaport Farmers’ Market, then wandered back downtown, popping into more fun shops, including The Loop, a sweet little yarn shop.

For dinner that night, we ate at 2 Doors Down – really good pub food and local Nova Scotia wines.

We weren’t quite ready for dessert, so we spent a while playing board games and eating popcorn at the Board Room Game Cafe. A Canadian friend had told us about this trend – it was so fun.

We capped off the night by splitting a slice of cheesecake at Sweet Hereafter. (It’s J’s favorite dessert.)

We had to hit the road on Sunday, but stopped at Coastal Cafe for brunch first. J’s face says it all. (The huevos were amazing – some of the best Mexican food we’ve had outside of Texas.)

Halifax, you are charming. Cheers!

Read Full Post »

Adventures on the north shore

The shore road was “woodsy and wild and lonesome.” On the right hand, scrub firs, their spirits quite unbroken by long years of tussle with the gulf winds, grew thickly. On the left were the steep red sandstone cliffs, so near the track in places that a mare of less steadiness than the sorrel might have tried the nerves of the people behind her. Down at the base of the cliffs were heaps of surf-worn rocks or little sandy coves inlaid with pebbles as with ocean jewels; beyond lay the sea, shimmering and blue, and over it soared the gulls, their pinions flashing silvery in the sunlight.

“Isn’t the sea wonderful?” said Anne, rousing from a long, wide-eyed silence.

—Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery

On our recent return to PEI, the hubs and I stayed in a tiny village on the Island’s north shore. We were just a few minutes’ walk from the beach in one direction and the harbor (above) in the other. And though we did a bit of driving around the Island (lunch in Summerside one day, dinner in Charlottetown another night), we spent most of our time as close to the water as possible.

“You’ve made a beach bum out of me,” J said recently. I laughed and pointed out that I didn’t do anything: our trips to San Diego and PEI are wholly responsible for that change. The red beaches of PEI’s north shore, in particular, have completely captured our hearts.

The Island’s north shore is quieter than the south; there are fewer towns, more long, unbroken stretches of beach. These comprise plenty of soft red sand (the Island soil contains so much iron that it oxidizes on contact with the air), and an occasional outcrop of sandstone cliffs (as in the photo at the top of this post).

I love visiting both the sand shore and the rock shore that L.M. Montgomery writes about in Anne’s House of Dreams and Rilla of Ingleside, but for spending an afternoon, the sand shore is my favorite. The sky is wide and open, the far red cliffs topped with lush green. As for the Gulf of St. Lawrence, I have to quote Jane Stuart: “I never thought anything could be so blue.”

We took a guided kayaking trip around the north shore one night, which was exhausting but wholly enjoyable, and a couple of late-evening walks to watch the sunset. But mostly we sprawled out on the sand with our books, getting up occasionally to splash in the shallows or toss the Frisbee. We came home with sand in the folds of our shorts and tote bags, but I didn’t mind. Those hours on the north shore, walking through the foamy waves and sinking into the sand, restored my soul.

More PEI photos and stories to come.

Read Full Post »

Return to PEI

Two summers ago, the hubs and I made a 600-mile drive from Boston, to fulfill a long-held dream of mine: visiting Prince Edward Island, land of (quietly) spectacular seafood and sunsets, and of course, the home terrain of a certain red-haired heroine.

A few weeks ago, we went back. And – I am happy to report – it was as delightful as we remembered.

PEI is gorgeous: it’s a green, quiet, bucolic place, a mix of furrowed red fields and meadows and glimpses of the bright blue sea around every corner. There are charming villages, trim farmhouses, and so many patches of lupines by the roadsides that I was always on the lookout for Miss Rumphius. I was also expecting (naturally) to run into Anne Shirley herself at any moment.

But I think the main reason we were so excited to be back is a little different: PEI is ours.

Most of us, I think, have places like that: a handful of spots on this earth that call to us, that feel completely right. (Oxford is one of those places for me, as you know if you’ve been reading this blog for a while.) There are other patches of ground I really love: the Aran Islands on the west coast of Ireland; the tiny village of Whitby in northern England; Harvard Yard, which I get to walk through all the time. Those places belong to me, though I am usually happy to share them.

But my husband and I also have a few spots that are ours. They speak to both of us in that bone-deep way, sneaking into our souls and filling them with peace. Two years ago, we both fell so completely in love with PEI that when we left, we looked at each other and said with absolute certainty: We’re going back.

Anne wrote a post a while back about choosing to love certain places: how you have to put in a bit of effort to make them yours. The vacation home you return to year after year; the restaurant you visit on special occasions; the coffee shop or bar where you’re known by name. (Once again, my experience with Darwin’s comes to mind.)

In the case of PEI, this means rearranging our schedules and making a 12-hour drive across New England (and New Brunswick, and part of Nova Scotia) to reach a place we both adore. And this time – gloriously – it did feel like ours.

We stayed at the same guesthouse where we stayed two years ago, and our hostess, Patty, came down the steps to greet us with smiles and bear hugs. We revisited a few favorite restaurants: The Mill, Carr’s Oyster Bar, the Blue Mussel. We spent hours soaking up the sun and wading in the shallows on the Island’s red, sandy north shore. And it all felt, not only relaxing and lovely, but familiar. Like coming home.

I’ll have much more to share about PEI soon. But for now, I will simply say: I’m so glad we went back. I’m so glad we are putting in the effort to make it ours.

Read Full Post »

On margin

Recently, my husband and I took a weeklong road trip to Canada, to celebrate the end of a long, full spring season (at work and at home) and so I could take a break between jobs. We had a glorious time, and I promise I’ll tell you more about it soon. But I’ve been thinking about how I also loved having a few quiet days at home after we came back. My husband headed straight back to work on Monday morning, but I had a couple of days to sleep in, catch up on laundry and putter around the house. I had some margin.

I started my new job at the Harvard Kennedy School last week, and I am thrilled to be back among colleagues I already know, at a place I already love. I’m easing in, with a couple of days at work, a long weekend for the 4th of July, and a short workweek this week. And I am so happy about it – not just because it’s summer and things are therefore a little slower, but because it gives me some margin. Some room. Some breathing space.

I’m a classic type-A overachiever, and I live and work in a culture that prizes hustle. When the occasion calls for it, I can hit the ground running and keep up a hectic pace, for days or weeks on end. That’s what I did during my temp gig at the central Harvard Public Affairs office this spring. Commencement season around there is a maelstrom, and I was right in the thick of it.

But that’s not how I like to operate. When I can get it, I prefer a little margin.

This spring, I jumped straight from one temp gig to another with only a weekend in between. After our lovely weekend on Martha’s Vineyard, it was full speed ahead at work for the entire month of May, while still trying to figure out my next step. And although early June was quieter, it involved a lot of tying up loose ends and handing over tasks and projects to my replacement, before I took my vacation. I haven’t had a lot of margin lately.

I’ve been doing my best to snatch breathing room where I can get it: solo lunch breaks with a sandwich and a book, a quiet evening at home with dishes and a podcast or another book (or three), and in rare cases, half an hour scribbling in my journal after my husband goes to bed. But I’m looking forward to a little more margin in my life this summer. There’s still a lot of change and adjustment ahead on the horizon, but I am hoping for more space – physical and mental – during these long, sunlit days.

Do you find that margin is necessary in your life? How do you make sure you get it?

Read Full Post »

Weekend on Martha’s Vineyard

Recently, the hubs and I hopped on the ferry for a weekend on Martha’s Vineyard. We’d heard a lot about this lovely island off the coast of Massachusetts, but we’d never been there. And – I am happy to report – it was an utter delight.

We drove down to Woods Hole (slightly over an hour from our house) and caught the ferry, which takes about half an hour and afforded us these beautiful views.

After landing in Vineyard Haven, we grabbed a late lunch at Waterside Market, which included this delicious clam chowder.

The hubs had found us a cottage to rent (via Airbnb), about a ten-minute walk from the center of town.

It was clean, quiet, spacious and lovely. (Also: there were resident wild turkeys.)

We spent Friday afternoon strolling Vineyard Haven, which (of course) included a visit to Bunch of Grapes Bookstore. (I want a clock like this.)

We also popped into Mocha Mott’s for a snack, and found several kitchen treasures at LeRoux. But the greatest triumph of the afternoon was Island Music, where I bought J a birthday ukulele.

That evening, we walked down to the Black Dog Tavern for dinner.

A wonderful evening: hot, fresh bread; delicious fish and chips; harbor views; and all kinds of cool nautical memorabilia.

After sleeping in the next morning, we ate the (delicious) bagels our host had left for us, and caught the bus over to the next town, Oak Bluffs. (The island bus system runs between all the towns, and we found it reliable, clean and affordable.)

We had lunch at the Martha’s Vineyard Chowder Company – my second bowl of clam chowder in 24 hours. (Delicious.)

A friend had told us about the famous gingerbread cottages, so we spent a while wandering around among them.

They began life as tents, then tiny shacks, built by Methodists who came over to the Vineyard for summer camp meetings. The open-air tabernacle is still there, but the cottages have evolved into candy-colored charmers.

After all that walking, we treated ourselves to ice cream from Ben and Bill’s. We did not try the lobster ice cream (yuck!) – but the mint chip (mine) and strawberry (J’s) were delicious.

Later, we rode the bus down to Edgartown, which was mostly still closed up for the season – though the harbor there is also lovely.

Dinner that night was delicious takeout pizza from Wolf’s Den in Vineyard Haven. Then we walked back to the Black Dog for pie á la mode. As you do.

Sunday dawned grey and chilly, but it was perfect weather for brunch at the Art Cliff Diner.

Now that is a SCONE. We split it, so we could have room for our main dishes. Mine was the Green Monster: a concoction of eggs, spinach, cheese, salsa and fried tortillas. Yum.

Such a lovely weekend – quiet, peaceful, delicious. A perfect getaway with my favorite guy.

Read Full Post »