The Travel Diaries: Random Pics of Russia
/A friend from the trip is more on the ball getting his pics up and available. I've borrowed a few to give you a taste of what we experienced.





A friend from the trip is more on the ball getting his pics up and available. I've borrowed a few to give you a taste of what we experienced.






We're back! For the last 10 days Blair and I have been on a tour of Russia with quick stops in Estonia and Finland. We arrived back home around midnight on Thursday and are just now pulling out of the jet lag. (I woke up at 4:30 am on Friday full of energy, cleaned the house top to bottom, then promptly collapsed into bed for a 6-hour nap.)
We haven't yet mustered the courage to sit down and go through our photos. The curse of the digital camera is that you feel the need to photo-document every step of your journey. I'll pick out the best and post soon. I'll also try and avoid giving a blow-by-blow description of our trip, although the next few blog entries will cover some of the highlights.
For now, I leave you with the group photo above, taken outside the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg. The Winter Palace was the official residence of the Russian monarchs from 1732 to 1917 and is now the site of the Hermitage museum. We had quite the excursion there, but more on that later. I've also included a quick list of my observations of the many amenities--or not--offered during a tour of Russia. Enjoy!
What Russia Has In Abundance:
What Russia Is Lacking:
It's good to be home. I've never considered myself an overly patriotic person but when the customs officer at Dulles stamped our passports upon reentry to the U.S. and said, "Welcome home, folks," I almost cried. God bless America.
Cheers,
Dena
I'm typing this under a medicated Nyquil-haze, which probably explains my willingness to out myself on what may be a semi-icky post, but here goes nothing.
I was talking to BFF Trisha on Thursday, as I drove toward Cincinnati. We were talking about packing and I mentioned that it's always a relief to visit her because even if I forget something, she'll have it. We're the same shoe size, we use the same hair products, exchange clothes and jewelry, etc. We hung up and I continued driving and about an hour later--for no reason I can discern--a lightbulb went off in my head. I called her back.
"For the love of God," I said. "I forgot to pack the only two items on the planet I can't borrow from you."
"And that would be....?" she asked.
I'm traveling soon from my home in North Carolina to see my best friend Trisha in Cincinnati. It's about an 8-hour drive, and a pretty drive for most of the way. (Things get ugly when you cross into Ohio. Sorry, buckeyes.) Usually I'd have no problem making the drive but this time I was hoping to fly. My visit is only 4 days, including drive time, and one day while I'm there Trisha and I area driving to Columbus (about 2 hours each way) to see my cousin and her new baby.
That's a whole lotta driving.
So I hopped on Delta where we have skymiles and onto Priceline, just to check out the competition, hoping to find a "cheap" flight.
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I want a cat.
There, I’ve said it. Proclaimed my intent to the Universe. Although I’m only willing to accept moderate blame when events transpire to actually bring a cat into my life.
I have no business getting a cat. A few strong reasons off the top of my head include:
And yet.
When I began sharing the news that I had taken a new job near Atlanta and was moving . . . spreading my wings. . . opening myself to new horizons. . . without fail the first comment from almost everyone was, “OMG. You know about the traffic there, right?”
Yes, I am aware of the traffic. Thank you for your loving concern and support.
So how bad is it really? Having lived here now for three months, I can tell you that the 12-mile drive to my office from home can take anywhere between. . .
One of the hardest decisions in moving to Atlanta was knowing I would be leaving behind my 25-year network of friends. These are friends that saw me through job changes (insurance adjuster, librarian, author, marketing maven), life changes (divorce, moves, dating), as well as were there for everything from my first published book to my first marathon to holding my hand when my cat died. A lot of years, a lot tears, much more laughter, and oodles and oodles of love.
In other words—not something easily replaced.
Of course, I’m not “leaving behind” friends but since the five-hour drive between Atlanta and Greensboro isn’t convenient for a quick movie or fro-yo meet-up, the burden is on me to make new friends.
The obvious place to make friends, for me, is the gym. I joined a big-ass Lifetime Fitness...
As most of you know, after 20+ years in NC, I’ve recently relocated to Georgia, about an hour outside of Atlanta. More updates on that later. Right now, I want to share with you the saga of the license plate. It’s a story that more or less sums up my life. What takes other people twenty minutes, takes me 9 weeks, 8 phone calls, 4 DMV visits and a two-week plan to evade the law.
It all started the week I moved to Georgia. I was checking things off my list right and left (pictures hung in new home - check. Food in fridge – check. Wall art for half-bath – check, check, check) and in an effort to be pro-active, toddled off to the DMV to get my GA driver’s license. I showed up prepared for anything – NC driver’s license, passport, pay stub, and invoices from gas, electric and trash removal verifying my new address. I approached the teller window.
Teller: “Social security card.”
Me: “I don’t have that, but here’s my passport.”
Teller: “I can’t issue you a license without a social security card.”
I get a lot of questions about the best ways to train. Which, considering I spent the earlier part of this year on crutches, unable to run for four months due to an overuse injury that could have been avoided, I find somewhat amusing. Then there’s the immediate back-pedalling that takes place, usually in the form of, “But I don’t want to run, or get up at 4 am, or do anything that’s hard.”
Gotcha. I can work with that.
Below are five training tips I try to follow. I say try because let’s be honest—we’re all human and some days will be better than others. But these are the big picture items that have kept me pushing for the last ten years, and they are things anyone can adopt into their lifestyle.
1. Pick Something You Love
I can’t count the number of times people say to me, “Ugh, I know I need to run but I hate it.” Um… why exactly do you need to run? I hate Pure Barre and even though my butt never looked better during the month I took classes, I’m not going back.
When I first signed up for this half Ironman, I knew my swim would be slow and my ride would be average, so the plan was to make-up some time on the run. The Universe had other plans though, and handed me the stress fracture in my hip. It was literally only days before the race when my chiropractor agreed that I could try a walk/run of the course, but only if I swore a blood oath that if it hurt, I would stop. And, in a cruel twist of fate, advised that my best strategy would be to run the uphills and walk the down. That goes against everything I hold dear in life, but okay. I figured I would run a mile/walk a mile throughout the race for as long as I could.
My strategy worked perfectly… for the first quarter mile.
(ICYMI: Part I: THE SWIM)
Let’s call it like it is. I crushed the ride on this race. 18.71 average speed. My normal pace with a group where I’m drafting is closer to 17.5, so I had aspirations of maybe holding a 17 mph average. Crushed. It.
What helped me is my Garmin died before the ride even started, so I had no idea for the entire 56 miles what my pace was. I just rode according to how I felt. The first 3-5 miles were shaky (I kept repeating, “You’re out of the water. You’re alive.”), but then we turned right onto the highway, I settled into my arrow bars and literally said out loud, “Let’s make some time.”
Fun fact: They mark your age in sharpie on your left calf in an Ironman race. Not sure why, but...
On Sunday, June 4, I completed my first (because there will be more) Half Ironman. 1.2 mile swim. 56 mile bike ride. 13.1 mile run.
Being my first IM, there’s a lot to process, especially as I didn’t think I’d be able to complete the race due to my hip injury. I am thrilled beyond all words that I finished and probably most proud of the fact that I have (as of yet) to get the IM tattoo splattered across, you know, my face.
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