MONTEVERDE — I have always had a peculiar way of relaxing: This time, I would hurl myself into the arms of God, entrusting life and limb to a 150-foot rope as I swung like Tarzan in the forests of Central America.

I had come to Costa Rica hoping for a respite from the breakneck pace of covering national politics, including the presidential campaign, for The Globe’s Washington bureau. And here I was about to possibly break my neck.