How a Micro-Vacation Can (Almost) Feel Like the South of France

I can still smell the lavender from the fields we wandered through in Provence a few years ago. I can still picture the gardens that inspired Van Gogh. Some places stay with you long after you've returned home.

Unfortunately, none of my five senses will be experiencing anything close to that this summer.

When we spent a month in Richmond, Virginia, the plan wasn't to buy a house. We simply wanted to see whether it might be a place we'd enjoy living someday.

We rented a home in Church Hill, one of Richmond's oldest neighborhoods, filled with beautifully preserved Victorian, Italianate, and Georgian homes. We loved how walkable it was, the thriving art and music scene, the friendly people, the slower pace, the nearby tennis courts…and somewhere along the way, "just looking" turned into buying a beautifully renovated Victorian.

Sometimes life has plans of its own.

Which means this summer looks nothing like we imagined. Instead of traveling, it's become the summer of decluttering, packing, selling, making decisions, and moving. No lavender fields. No Mediterranean breezes. Just cardboard boxes and logistics.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, I found myself asking a familiar coaching question. Not “what should I do next”. Not “what still needs to get done”. But instead, “what do I need right now? What do I need in order to restore my energy?” That question led me down an interesting path.

I came across a Wall Street Journal article about 24-hour micro-retreats. It was an intriguing idea, but I knew a full day away wasn't realistic for me right now. So I became curious. Could something even smaller make a difference? Being me, I turned to research… and yes, I asked AI, too. The answer was reassuring.

Our brains don't always need a week away to recover. Even short, intentional breaks can lower stress, improve our mood, and restore our attention. Twenty or thirty minutes spent doing something that genuinely replenishes us can become a small reset in the middle of an otherwise demanding season. That made me wonder what other people were doing.

So I asked members of my leadership groups:

What is one thing you'd like to increase this summer that energizes you, and one thing you'd like to decrease so you feel more alive?

Their answers were thoughtful – and remarkably consistent. One person wanted to spend more time leading by walking around instead of staying behind a desk. Another hoped for more agility, spontaneity, and fun. Someone else wanted a more peaceful home by finally tackling the clutter ("Fill the dumpster!" she joked.). Others longed for more quiet time alone, permission to do less, and moments to simply notice joy.

I found myself nodding at every response.

I realized I wanted many of the same things: more time with friends, more community, more quiet, more spontaneity, and more opportunities to simply enjoy where I was rather than constantly thinking about what was next. So I decided to experiment with what I'm calling my own micro-vacations.

One Friday, I left work a little early and met my friend Ellen at the Met to see the Costume Institute exhibition, “Costume Art”. We wandered through the galleries, talked about the exhibits, compared old and new designs, and then strolled through Central Park. Halfway through our walk, the skies opened. We were completely drenched. The kind of drenched that leaves you laughing, borrowing dry clothes, and feeling like a kid again.

On Juneteenth, instead of catching up on work, I spent the day with my friend Vanessa visiting Iris van Herpen: Sculpting the Senses at the Brooklyn Museum. The exhibition was extraordinary – fashion inspired by jellyfish, birds, water, and nature. It reminded me of what happens when creativity and curiosity come together.

Iris van Herpen’s fashion

I've also started giving myself a midweek gift. After tennis, instead of rushing home, I stay for an extra hour to soak in the hot tub, plunge into the cold pool, and simply look up at the sky between the buildings. It has quietly become my Wednesday reset.

None of these experiences lasted very long. None required boarding a plane. Yet each one left me feeling lighter.

They haven't made the moving process disappear, but they have changed how I move through it. They remind me that restoration doesn't always require a passport. Sometimes it simply requires permission. As coaches, leaders, and high achievers, we often postpone renewal until everything on the list is finished. But what if renewal is what helps us finish the list?

This summer, I hope you'll create your own micro-vacation. Whether it's twenty minutes or two hours, whether it's a museum, a walk, a cup of coffee with a friend, or simply sitting outside listening to the birds, it all counts.

I'd love to hear what you're doing to recharge this summer. You might even inspire my next micro-vacation!