A few weeks back we went up to Lake Placid to tour the Olympic Complex for an article I was writing for Resortsandlodges.com. Not sure if I was most excited about the All Access Media Passes we had or the prospect of an overnight at a bed and breakfast in Lake Saranac…
(Hindsight being 20-20 and toddlers being toddlers, the overnight was not quite the stuff that dreams are made of.)
We had planned to leave around dawn to ensure a quiet ride, but our plan was foiled by a night of challenging bedtime drama that went something like,
“No want it. No want it. No want it bedtime now!”for much longer than is really fair. To anyone. Seriously. You can get to a point when the staying up, or the getting up, seems a physical impossibility. Shards of glass in my eye lids and being strung up by my toenails would feel better. That said, I am no less proud of having left town by 10 than I would have been leaving at 5. We made our first stop before noon with only one tantrum and I think that might have been mine. We spent the afternoon visiting the sites, touring everything but Whiteface and Gore
(Toddler & nursing infant + long car trip = misery for all).
What we did visit was phenomenal.
Standing at the top of the ski jump.
Standing close enough to touch athletes as they shoot down track.
Seeing the ice rink of ‘Miracle’ fame…it’s a kind of hallowed ground and you can’t help but be moved by the weight of its history.
We had a fantastic time and the girls were very cooperative. I had a moment of borderline terror as we waited to go up ski jump tower via a “glass encased” elevator. I couldn’t decide if the panic of seeing outside of the space that would make me hyperventilate was preferable to the usual anxiety of a windowless enclosed space that would make me hyperventilate.
As luck would have it my worries were somewhat diminished by the, pardon me here, gentle giant operating the machine. I kid you not, this guy looked like one of those 7′ tall guys they get in Disney movies, and who everyone is afraid of until the end when you realize that they live in a sun dappled meadow with woodland creatures and craft small baskets for orphans to sleep in.
I asked him how often people have terrified breakdowns, he shrugged his head unimpressed and told me not many and turned away from me. I awkwardly turned to pretend to look out the window, while squinting my eyes shut and patting my 2 year old’s head like I was soothing her.
About 20 seconds later a soft deep voice said, “Some people pee, though,” and then looked up at me (I know I said he was giant-like, he was sitting) and gave me a huge smile. Lit up like that he didn’t seem like the early part of the movie scary giant, but more like happy giant during the closing credits with a new found freedom to walk through the village without scaring the villagers.
I smiled back.