I'm all about getting sporty on my trips. When I was training for the NYC marathon, I had to visit Washington, D.C. at a crucial point of my training. Instead of halting training or spending hours running on the hotel treadmill, I hired a running guide through City Running Tours who took me on a sightseeing run through our nation's capital.

So when I heard about a physical fitness event  -- again, in Washington, DC -- coming up on October 11, I thought I would share it with you. Bike for the Heart is a day-long event put on by the Sister to Sister organization, a group dedicated to educating women about heart health and risk prevention and providing free heart health checkups.

The day consists of four events:

 - a family-friendly five-mile bike ride around our nation's capital (this would be my choice)

Does being on a strict diet hold you back from truly experiencing another culture? It’s a good question, and--as a vegetarian--it’s one that’s been dogging me on my travels as of late.    On his Travel Channel show No Reservations, Anthony Bourdain’s philosophy maintains that digging fork or fingers first into the local cuisine is the best way to understand what a place is all about.

Recently I crossed something big off my must-see-before-I-die list: Machu Picchu. I took a day-trip to the stunning UNESCO World Heritage Site during my volunteer vacation to Cuzco, Peru. Machu Picchu is situated 8,000 feet above sea level and Cuzco, where I spent the majority of my time, was at 10,800 feet.

Leading up to the trip, every single pamphlet, website, and guidebook I read discussed how to avoid altitude sickness and I must confess, I skimmed it. It didn't feel like there were any good options. For instance, the side effects of the prescription medicine for altitude sickness are often worse than the actual symptoms of it. One woman on my trip who was taking it kept saying, "My nose is tingling! I can't feel my fingertips!" Uh...no thanks.

On Sunday, my brother-in-law’s brother-in-law (that’s a mouthful, isn’t it?) competed in a half-Ironman competition up in California wine country near the Napa Valley (dubbed the Vineman Ironman). Our goal was to cheer him along during his race transitions and as he made for the finish line. In between, our plan was to visit wineries and enjoy a summer’s day.

Please join us in welcoming Kristin Luna to The Window Seat. She lives in San Francisco and is the writer of the Bloggie-award-winning travel blog Camels and Chocolate.

When I scheduled my 28-hour stopover in Helsinki, I thought I’d do a whirlwind tour of the city, snapping some quality architecture shots in true shutterbug fashion and doing little else. Au contraire, naïve one. Instead, I spent the majority of my time in Finland getting acquainted with the downtown poliisi precinct.

On my way to the ferry station to purchase my ticket to Estonia, I was crossing at the green crosswalk like the law-abiding citizen I am. Out of nowhere, a minivan cab came whipping around the way, and performed an illegal U-turn—at a red light at that—before I had time to contemplate my next move.

If you follow the news, then you know that last week a pilot died mid-flight. Luckily, the plane landed without incident. The pilot was 60 years old, and apparently died of natural causes, which brings up a topic that we’ve touched on here before on The Window Seat: how old is too old to fly?

Back in December of 2007, then-president Bush approved fast-tracked legislation to raise the pilot age from 60 to 65. The thinking was that if a pilot could pass the same rigorous, standardized medical tests as the younger set, then there’s no reason to bar them from the yoke of the plane. Many people, myself included, applauded this decision, seeing it as an end to age discrimination.

The sky was nearly cloudless, the air was cool, and the early-summer evening sunshine streamed over Iceland’s Blue Lagoon, a giant, natural geothermal pool just 45 minutes from Reykjavik. At a toasty but comfortable 102 degrees, the sometimes-florescent, milky-blue waters contain minerals from the nearby lava rock that are said to have healing powers.

There is no chlorine here. The waters are completely natural, which is why all visitors must go through a rigorous cleansing regimen before and after using the baths. After you pay, you’ll be given a locker key and sent to the communal showers, where you must soap up completely from head to toe before you are allowed access to the baths. There is even a shower attendant on hand to make sure everyone is completely lathered. It’s not for the shy, but the natives are so nonchalant about this routine that it’s hard to get embarrassed.

I'm taking a flight to San Diego tonight, and already I've had several people look at me aghast. "But flying!" they say. "The germs! What if someone coughs next to you on the plane? What about the swine flu?"

Of course, Joe Biden's comments yesterday about "a confined aircraft where one person sneezes....that goes all the way through the aircraft" haven't helped my case, but I'm certainly not panicking. Not in the least, in fact. Here's what I plan to do:

1. Give Lady Macbeth a run for her money with my handwashing.

This week's question comes from Tamyra in Baton Rouge, La., home of the giant Frostop roadside root-beer mug:

With so many teary Oscar acceptance speeches this week, I thought I’d examine another emotional spectacle: Crying at 30,000 feet. For some people, it just comes easier. It’s even an expected part of the sounds of take-off: engines roar, wheels retract, bins shuffle, and babies cry. And cry and cry and cry. It’s the ear pressure, the strange environment, and probably a little of mommy or daddy’s nervousness, but, for the most part, when babies cry most passengers accept the noise without too much aggravation.

But, as you might have noticed, babies aren’t the only ones crying on the plane.