Walking

I’ve said it before and it’s still true: walking could easily be my religion. I’ve walked myself out of funks both big and small. It’s easy to just step out the door, and almost always it makes me feel better.  And it’s also very easy to ramp up the “fun” component, by listening to something good or by going someplace different, or both. Unlike losing weight, walking is very much under my direct and conscious control, with no mysterious “metabolism” effects impacting results. So immediate rewards seen on my scorecard!

I’ve been moving up my daily steps, almost daily setting out on deliberate walks of a mile and a half or more. I’ve also increased my incidental steps, taking the dog to the corner or around the block, or bouncing for a few minutes on my little trampoline. I’ve been doing this consistently enough I’m starting to feel the effects, feeling my legs and my stamina increasing.

For the second Sunday in a row, I got up before sunrise and headed to a great walking spot - in this case, Hain’s Point in D.C., near the mall and monuments but surrounded by water. For the first half of the walk I saw a total of three others on foot, and maybe a half dozen bicyclists. Very easy to keep distance. The road was closed to cars. It got more crowded towards the end, and the place I parked was thronged when I got back to my car. But it was so terrific to hear the water lapping, to feel the wind off the river, and enjoy solitude in a different place - one I hadn’t walked in more than a dozen years. And it’s totally flat! If I get on the bike, I’ll strongly consider coming back.

I saw two hammocks slung between trees with people in them, and I grinned when I saw two Vespa-style scooters, laden with backpacks, parked with them. Explorers? Had they been there all night?

When the alarm went off, I rolled over to sleep more, but then I smelled the coffee I had set up the night before and got myself going. I hope I keep this weekend trend!

Mid-Year Report Card

With my ambitions centered firmly on me for the next few months, it's time to check in on how I've been doing so far this year. The news is not great. First, the visual:

How to read this: Each green row is darker in the spots where it is "better".
For the red columns, I compare this year's average to last year's, red is "bad".

It may be a pretty picture, but it's a sad story.

I have been less active this year than last year by every single measure I use. I walk less, I'm not running or biking at all, and my gym workouts plummeted when the gym closed, even though I've got a terrific home gym and I continue to pay my trainer to send me workouts to do. I'm not even walking much. Our friend Chris would be severely disappointed in me.

My explanations and rationales are plentiful. "It's too [insert: cold, hot, wet, windy]. My dog can barely stumble around the block. I don't feel good. I don't want to get dressed. I don't feel like wearing a mask." 

This is entirely under my control, and I resolve to do better. The walking has already picked up. I'm doing a couple of things to motivate myself, including getting up early, indulging myself on fun things to listen to, and doing a virtual trip of the Camino de Santiago.

My weight is very slightly better than the end of the year, but the sad truth is I put on ten pounds after my mother died and I wallowed in self-pity. I am focused on my eating, and I'm not just tracking my food, but planning each day's food each morning. It definitely helps to not walk into the kitchen and ask myself "what am I in the mood for?". Instead, since I don't need to accommodate anyone else's schedule, instead I ask myself, "am I actually hungry? Is it time to eat?". The question of what I might eat is not on the table. This works for me almost every day. But evenings remain a vulnerable point for me, though I'm making some slow progress at self talk to convince myself otherwise.

The next group of measures in the report I think of as my mental group: meditation, migraine, sleep and heart-rate. These are tied together. Sleep hours are up, and resting heart-rate is down, but migraines have been a big issue and I haven't made meditation a priority.

The next group is entertainment: books, blogging, trips downtown, and days at the boat. I'm certainly reading an enormous amount, and I've taken the time to blog both here and on the garden blog. But I've cut back local travel, for obvious reasons. I don't go into town to meet folks for lunch, for example. I am, however, starting to get more sailing in. The previous restrictions have loosened, and my boat partner and I both see this as our preferred quarantine escape. So three Saturdays in a row! (We won't do any overnights where we share a cabin, just day sails for now.)

The last group, spending on certain things, is actually the area I considered hiding my numbers because I'm embarrassed they are as high as they are. The good news is I'm spending much less on food (not unexpectedly, since last year included work lunches out and hosting family for several days). Planning my daily meals in advance means I'm much better at using up my food - I'm wasting much less. I minimize trips to the supermarket - about every two weeks - and get restaurant takeout once or twice a week, usually enough for two or more meals when I place the order. Restaurants are expensive, and normally I would only go out with other people. Now, I rationalize how I have to support local restaurants, but the truth is I just get tired of my own cooking. I wonder how I'll feel about solo takeout once socializing resumes?

I was surprised to see my monthly average spending on clothes is about even with last year. My thinking behind why is tied to my weight gain - I decided I needed some clothes that make me comfortable now rather than counting on losing enough weight to fit. And my trips - the Utah trip in February and the cancelled Iceland one - tipped me into buying some cool weather active outdoor clothes that I wanted but really didn't need. They were expensive but I love them! I am ruthless these days about returning anything I don't like, but I should stick to what I have now and force myself to shop my closet for play clothes. I also have a lot of very nice work clothes and no place to wear them. I told myself to wait a year before purging. Since this year is so unusual, and I have hopes of getting my weight back down to where those clothes fit, I'm going to wait a while longer before figuring out which few nice things truly spark joy.

So there is my sad story. I an optimistic take on it: with such low scores in the beginning of the year, I should have a good shot at the "most improved" award at the end of the year! Parents: how would you react to such a spin on the dismal tally?

OK, So We're Doing This

Summer at home, that is. With my hopes for this year's exotic adventure gone, it's finally time to buckle down and have a summer. I need projects, and I have many ideas. But in the meantime, "me" is always a good project. I had big regrets about being in such bad shape physically before my now-cancelled trip. Time to go ahead and do something about that. Also, time to get out of the house more.

I was up at 5 am today, by design, and downtown as the sun came up. I have lived and worked in one of the most scenic spots in the world for more than 20 years - it's time to continue to appreciate it. So, just a little walk around the sights, as the crews cleaned up from the totally irresponsible "celebration" held down on the Mall last night. We're in the middle of a stretch of hot and humid weather, and I decided dawn was the time to be cool and also, to be mostly alone.

Morning adventures these days are limited by my bladder. So three miles was the plan, and three miles got done, at a leisurely pace as I enjoyed the views. There were runners and tourists around, but it was easy to keep distance. That is good, because most people were only wearing masks when passing closely was inevitable. Me too. I was reminded how much I like early mornings. 

I stopped at the grocery store on the way home, and now I feel like my day has not been totally wasted. Walk and chores, both. Maybe I'll do something else, or maybe I'll just binge Star Wars on my girl's new Disney+ subscription.




Also, expect quotes from Hamilton to crop up any place I can possibly use them. Such as this post's title.

Iceland doesn’t want me

Ok, no surprise, but they don’t want any Americans right now, like the rest of Europe. I can’t blame them. They did have a small outbreak from a couple of tourists.

Now to the task of deciding what to do with my July. And seeing what of this trip is refundable, or recoverable through travel insurance.

Still Maybe

The Iceland trip has approached and receded.

Can I go?

Do I want to go?

The answers to these questions are still up in the air.

First, the NY Times reported that the EU will likely exclude the U.S. from ordinary travel when they further open their borders on July 1. This puts us in the same category as Brazil, which is only fair. It's based on the numbers. But, "likely" is the operative term there. Nothing has been finalized. And, Iceland is not a member of the EU , but is part of the Schengen travel area. Iceland might decide to go their own way. Again, there is nothing official from the government of Iceland. Just a news article saying that the EU is mighty mad at little Iceland for even considering such a thing. And quoting a minister in Iceland saying "we had hoped" to both open to Iceland and have the U.S. open to them, and they are very sad the U.S. wasn't letting Icelanders in. This was in an English language paper produced in Iceland. How much does one read into the exact wording, by non-native speakers of English? Is it a done deal? Earlier press reports had said to expect further news on plans for July and beyond by June 26, but that has come and gone with no news.

Meanwhile, my rescheduled lovely non-stops from here to Iceland have been cancelled. All of them, from anywhere in the U.S. to Iceland, for weeks, are cancelled. Icelandair is in financial trouble, and a significant amount of their business is actually from the U.S. to Europe, with or without an actual visit to Iceland in the middle. So if Europe nixes us, even if Iceland itself is open to us, they may not be able to make enough money to carry on. They are offering refunds, which I've applied for, but if they go under I'll be out of luck (see Wow Air).

So back on the internet. Canada is on the "ok" list for Europe (which can be considered the provisional list for Iceland). So I could book flights, 20 hours each way, from DC to Montreal to Frankfurt to Reykjavik and back again. Four airports versus two, and unknown exposure on each of six flights total. Multiplies the risk significantly, yes? What's the point of booking if I won't be allowed in, anyway?

I have not yet reached out to the sailboat people. I'm hanging here, waiting to see what is the official word from the government of Iceland, which removes all choice. But I'm not at all sure I want to pay a third time for flights that will be uncomfortable and put me at risk.

I've got a couple of days of full-time work Monday and Tuesday, the "outside expert panel" I'm serving on related to my former employment. That'll keep me busy and not thinking so much about this. By Wednesday, July 1, I'll either be told I can't or I'll have to choose for myself. Stay tuned.

Travel (Maybe)

I've been fizzing back and forth on a trip to Iceland in July. Like in three weeks, July. This year.

I signed up for this trip last August, so it's been on my horizon since then. It's ambitious: two weeks away, a week of it aboard a beautiful small classic sailing ship. A few days in a hotel in Reykjavik before the trip, a couple in the remote town on the northwest coast of Iceland afterwards.

I made the airline and hotel reservations in mid-January. My first choices were already sold out - July is the top month for travel to Iceland. Most of it is paid for.

Of course I assumed for the past couple of months I wouldn't be going. I originally signed up via a travel broker in the UK that specializes in booking passage on classic sailing ships. They sent an email in late March saying they were shutting down and they had turned all of the records over to the owners of the ship. I heard from the airline all my flights were cancelled.

Still I followed the voyage of the mighty little Tecla. I started following her after I booked the trip last August. She was in Greenland when first I found her, and she made her way through the melting pack ice of the Northwest passage in Canadian waters - the first large sailing ship to do so. She had a crew/passenger change in Nome, Alaska, and was off to the Galapagos. She visited Easter Island, rounded Cape Horn entirely under sail, stopped at the Falklands. Then, she was off to Antarctica. She got to Cape Town, South Africa, a few days after the country shut her borders. Allowed to anchor, and to obtain supplies, but not to disembark.  At first, it appeared the passengers wouldn't be allowed off, but after two weeks they were allowed to fly to their homes. (Quarantine, even though the passengers and crew had not touched inhabited lands or seen other people for the several weeks of the Antarctic voyage, and Covid was not known to have spread out of China when they set off from the Falklands.) The four professional crew took the boat home to the Netherlands, via the Azores, where again they were not allowed ashore (despite more than four weeks enroute from Cape Town) but they obtained fuel and fresh food. They got to the Netherlands last week.

The Tecla is owned by a family - bought by a husband and wife for this type of adventure cruising a decade or so ago (paying passenger crews subsidizing their Arctic yearning). Now, the ship is mostly sailed by their grown son and daughter. They usually have two family aboard, and two other crew. They can take up to twelve passengers, in two person cabins (that each have their own little water closet). This is a very similar size and arrangement to the Pride of Baltimore II that I have been on in the Chesapeake.

After a few days of the first time ashore since Antarctica and family reunion, the Tecla folks decided to go ahead and operate the Iceland trips in July. I vacillated mightily. But I decided Sunday I wanted to go, and if I can, I will.

Before you jump all over me, keep reading.

Iceland is a small island nation, an advantage in locking down and fighting the spread of the virus. They had a high tech international biolab company with its flagship laboratory there, and quickly they were able to ramp up testing to one of the highest rates in the world. The virus got ahead of them initially, but as of now there are less than a half-a-dozen active known cases in the country. They have implemented a government sponsored phone app for contact tracing, and more than half the country has put it on their phones. They are opening back up, and even are opening swimming pools and barbershops.  (Swimming is a huge thing in Iceland - they tap their greatest natural resource, hot springs, to provide indoor public pools everywhere.)

Iceland has had a mandatory 14-day quarantine for all visitors since the lock-down started. They are open for visitors from Europe, the Schengen area, and just started an option of, instead of quarantine upon arrival, getting a PCR test (the kind that feels like they are scraping your brain) with results in less than 24 hours. If no known problems surface in the next two weeks, they will open to the rest of the world on the same terms July 1.

My original flights on United that were cancelled involved domestic legs before flying on the seasonal non-stops to Reykjavik. After some time on the phone with the airline Sunday morning, I rejected what they would offer me, with circuitous routings and thus more airports - each airport being an additional potential contagion point. While on hold with them, I checked into Air Iceland's offerings, and this economically shaky (but extremely important to the Icelandic tourist industry) airline has put on a less than daily non-stop flight from Dulles to Reykjavik. I was able to book non-stops with slight adjustments in my schedules (one less day in-country before boarding Tecla).

So here's the deal with virus risk. I will need to travel, masked, through Dulles Airport and onto an airplane that is, I believe, selling every seat they can, not blocking any for infection control. But upon arrival, I will be tested, and everyone else on the plane will also be tested. Contact information will be collected and I'll download the tracing app and go to my hotel. Once I get my clear test result, I'll be free to travel in an infection-free country. I'll board a small ship with up to 15 other people. On board, we will practice hygiene as best we can, and everywhere we plan to sail is extremely remote and without any (or much) settlement. When I get off the ship in Isafjordur (I can spell this without checking now!) I will either drive with fellow passengers or fly internally back to Reykjavik, spend another night in the same hotel, and then fly non-stop back to Dulles. When I get home, I'll do a two-week self quarantine, relying on family to do my shopping and staying away from our crowded park trails.

So the main vulnerability is me or a fellow crew member catching the virus as we travel into Iceland, so it doesn't yet show on the arrival test, and then becoming infectious and later symptomatic on our little voyage. Likewise, the trip home is a risk, but the plane ride home not so much, since I'll be leaving a "clean" country.

So in my opinion, the virus risks are acceptable. But as I started to figure this out, I really agonized over whether I really even wanted to go.

This trip is a very big deal to me. It takes a lot of gumption for me to travel on my own. I love it and I dread it both. I do not meet new people easily or naturally. A day or so after being on the boat, I'll be fine with my fellow crew members. It's the days before and after that have had me worried - I don't want to lurk in my hotel with room service, but eating alone in restaurants in a strange country isn't so easy. I planned to book some guided day trips from Reykjavik after I got there. But all the time, on my own and figuring things out solo, I've got an edge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Aside from the social stuff, I planned to train for this trip and be much more fit by now than I actually am. If I go, I leave in three weeks and I can't reverse several months of lying on the couch obsessively tracking the news in that period of time. The truth is, the more fit I am the better time I'll have. But they don't actually require me to work the ship if I don't want to. There will be hikes ashore in the remote fjords, but I don't have to go, or go far. I could hang out on the beach and pretend my passion is macro photography of lichen and rocks. 

The deciding moment for me was when I was sailing this past Saturday. The day was lovely, we were out in a nice wind in the middle of the day, and I realized I felt better throughout my body than I have felt in days. Of course I want to do this trip. And it'll be fine. The parts I'm nervous about will be fine. I've even communicated with one of a couple of relatively local people (mid-Atlantic region, anyway) that are also going on the same trip - I think we're even going over on the same flight!

There are a lot of "ifs" around whether I will be allowed to do this trip. But the question of "do I want to" has finally been answered in my head and I'll be disappointed if I can't go. Maybe a tiny bit relieved, but mostly disappointed.

Update

Oh, geez, things have been in such turmoil - and yet, almost none of it touches me, directly. Just my family and those I love, and the country I love... Me? I worry, I ruminate, I self-medicate with books, my body declares war on me so the dizziness, migraines, knee pain and digestive distress really multiply, and my nervous system is on high alert for any signs of the virus. But I'm fine.

Things started going south the day I finally went sailing. My brother-in-law (BIL) dropped by to pick up my girl, who had come over to take care of my old dog. As he got to my door and came in, he got a text from his employee, showing her positive Covid-19 test result. Still standing in the doorway, I told him to step outside immediately. We sat down outside, distanced. His assistant - who can't work at the pharmacy alone, only accompanied by BIL or BIL's one other pharmacist - felt ill the day before. BIL sent her home (after 3 hours together, though both masked!) and asked her to get tested. Here was the result. Gah. So worried. We discussed contingency plans, for the family and for the business. It's now been more than two weeks, and both he and his assistant pharmacist are fine. His employee is still out, but at home. From the moment the text arrived till now, neither he nor my girl have come close to me. (My only risk factors are being old and fat, but I'd like to avoid any unpleasantness.)

So then the issues of racial justice and violence against black people blew up. I spiraled out of control, feeling like the country was close to civil war. If it came to it, I would put my life on the line. If I thought it would be useful. As I noted, I decided at this point to give money - enough to feel it - and to re-engage on areas where I could be actually useful. My body makes war on me, so that I couldn't look someone in the face and answer "yes" to "Do you feel well today?". It keeps me from attending even local protests. When the going gets tough, Nan gets sick. It's a pattern that has repeated itself all my life.

My BIL's pharmacy, in the latest gentrifying area of DC, has been hit three times. Not looting, professional thieves. Folks who knew which drugs to take. He boarded up the big windows. He's talking to the landlord about metal grating. His insurance company is not happy with the situation, and they are talking.

My girl decided she had to go into DC. Of course she did. It is the right thing. But it scares me to death. She has not, so far, encountered any violence. She is on fire with zeal, and also has big feet blisters. I cannot see her, except from a distance, as I provide some practical support. She wears a mask, she says. But she is putting herself at risk. It's so different to contemplate this from the parent perspective. I think back to my own activism, traveling across half the country with people I scarcely knew to protest the Vietnam war, narrowly escaping arrest from the vicious Nixon administration. I was never scared, just mad. Or partying. My parents, separated from me by geography in the pre-cell/text era, heard almost none of this. Now, I'm terrified for my girl. But I also get regular updates.

My boys are fine. The middle boy lives in DC with his girlfriend, in a small studio apartment, and they both are working from home on things that require a great deal of tech equipment. For Memorial Day weekend, they went to an AirBnB just a couple of blocks away - a two bedroom with a balcony and a roof deck! My boy believes strongly in the science of virus spread and has not gone to the streets. No protests directly where they are. He has money of his own, however, and is also giving. We talk often.

My big boy seems to have sunk himself in math. He lives in his university town in a big house with six other guys, so he doesn't lack for company while still being isolated. For the past several years, his life has revolved around math and ultimate frisbee. He's lost the latter, and feels disoriented. And he was competing in ultimate at the top levels of the country - both as a professional (literally, but don't quit your day job) and as a nationally ranked amateur. He's not trying now to keep conditioning up, couldn't think of a non-math book he's read recently, and just geeked to the max. His well-educated, liberal, university town has had some well-bred protests which he hasn't attended. So safe and well, relatively speaking, but I long to see him.

So we're fine.