Honestly, I should feel ashamed of myself.
Last night was one of those rare nights when I had absolutely nothing planned for the evening and was sorta kinda flying by the seat of my pants (or skirt, or whathaveyou). I got off work and dutifully stopped at the closest Teeter for some much needed grocery shopping. Now, here is a short musing on Teeterhood: in Charlotte, there is a Harris Teeter situated nearly every half mile to mile from one another. Naturally, we would like to swing by the closest one on the way home - however -proximity is not a proper basis for deciding where to stopnshop. For example, I believe we can all agree that not all parking lots are created equal. A poorly planned parking lot that drives up my blood pressure and increases my likelihood of stroke at an early age cancels out any convenience of stopping at the "closest" Teeter. I need to remember this next time because really, another 2-5 minutes of driving is totally worth not getting hit by people itchin n' scratchin for their next Starbucks hit.
I survived and made my way home to *gasp of utter shock* do my laundry - using both laundry rooms in the house next door to maximize my laundering abilities. I wasn't sure of possible plans for later in the evening but I knew I should probably get something to eat.
But I was still on strike.
So I went over to the drawer in my room, which is, essentially a pool house or guest house equipped with amenities of sorts. I tore open a pack of expired salted peanuts (for protein) and settled onto a chair in front of the television I hadn't turned on since moving in in January. I pressed the TV Power button and an image of CSPAN filled the screen. I had been checking out the channel when the healthcare debate was raging full force. Not in the mood for political pontificating, I channeled up. To static. Channeled down: static. Menued: static. Guided: static. Split-screened: side-by-side versions of static.
Hrmph.
I turned it all off and tried again. I tried the other remote. I tried both remotes at the same time. I stuck my head in the dusty space between the TV set and cabinet and checked out the wires.
Hrmph.
Fine then. I headed over to the house and turned on the TV there. Apparently two shows were being recorded on Tivo and I couldn't switch from the 25th anniversary of some rock n roll shenanigan without interrupting recording and well I just wasn't about to do that because it's not my Tivo. So I went to the TV on the other side of the house. Repeat performance of the TV in my room. No static. Just black screen of VID-1. (Try remote 1, Try remote 2). Honestly, am I television-challenged or remote-challenged or is this just a useless challenge confirming my belief that television is stupid and rots the brain cells of which we only use 10% to begin with.
Now what? Food.
I'm not hungry for some reason but I know I should eat. I don't feel like going anywhere. So I look around the cabinets for something innocuous that wouldn't be a big deal if I borrowed. I settle on microwaveable, single-serving Annie's Organic White Cheddar Macaroni and Cheese. Welcome to the land of "healthy" easy mac. Dubious claim indeed but I'm not picky tonight. All I need for this is a bowl and 1/2 cup of water. Innocent enough. I spend the next fifteen minutes in the dim lighting looking for a measuring cup. I'm not kidding - I scoured every drawer and cabinet in the entire kitchen. Nothin. So I guessed. I miscalculated and there wasn't quite enough water to absorb the powder cheesiness and so it was a little funky.
This is why I should be ashamed of myself. It has been so long since I have cooked for myself that I messed up microwaveable pasta. Shit.
Somewhat defeated and much deflated of ego, I notice the TV is finally showing something decent on a channel I can watch - Gran Torino. Great movie - maybe not the uplifting, easy going film I was looking for but I'll take it. I settle in and start getting emotionally wrapped up in the plot and characters and complex thoughts on race and life and death and just as the going gets really rough in the movie - a warning pops on the screen alerting me that the channel must switch to continue recording the next show. I can cancel the recording and continue watching OR switch channels as directed. And so I glumly watch the channel switch from the violently jarring images of lives marred by gang violence and racism to...
Cougartown.
Really?
4.15.2010
4.13.2010
How was it? Awesome of course. When is a milkshake NOT awesome?
4:48 am
I am fumbling around in my laundry basket. There are at least five pairs of running shorts in here... why can't I find just one?
Because... it's 4:48 in the morning and really - a growing lady like myself should be sleeping right now. I usually avoid this situation altogether by laying out my running clothes the night before but last night I was on strike.
When I get in the car I just blast my eardrums into awakening - drive past the even-crazier-than-me cyclists - and pull into the church parking lot where we meet for Miner's Run. The loud music suddenly seems way out of place as my headlights swing around to light up a number of headstones in the cemetery. I quickly turn it down and turn off the car... slightly uncomfortable for no good reason. Waiting for the rest of the group, I think about how when I was younger, I used to hold my breath when I passed a cemetery. I only did it because my sister told me to. I never really understood the concept and then one day someone told me it was terribly disrespectful of the dead. So I stopped doing it.
Meg and Spada met me early and we made our way down to the rubberized track. I knew it was going to be a struggle when the loops around the dark track started to feel like work less than ten minutes in. We looped back around and picked up the rest of the crew to head down Sardis - and right about then, I knew I was in trouble.
I ended up in a very engaging conversation that took a good amount of energy both mental and physical. Completely rehashed last night's book club discussion of C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity with a fellow lover of his work. As taxing as this was and I didn't feel like I should be pushing it hard like that... the conversation was so good that I do not take it back for a moment. Spada and I eventually broke off from the group to head back and with the unfortunate weight of time pressing down hard - we continued a non-recovery pace to the car.
((Meanwhile)) Spada's been doing a little book exchange with Paul Mainwaring - another incredible athlete in the area - and they have been switching at Miner's Run. So Spada has two books in his hands when we start the run, thinking he's going to run into Paul along the way. Paul apparently didn't show today and Spada ends up leaving the books where we will come back later - about two miles in. On our way back he dashes over to grab his two books, "Hey, you're in the book club, but I've got the books!" I really can NOT imagine running with two big books in my hand. ((He's a champ.))
For the last six miles or so I could feel my energy levels dropping to the floor... I was starving. Last night was book club night which means two things:
1) an incredible night of thought-provoking discourse on humanity and its twisted tangle with christianity
and
2) dinner by the boy
I had rushed over to dinner around 6:30 so we could eat and drive uptown without being late. (I hate being late. No really... I absolutely despise it). Roasted brussel sprouts (with a sprinkle of nutmeg, making it a little different than usual) were just being pulled out of the oven as a skillet of lamb cheesesteak sizzled on the stove. The buns for the cheesesteak were toasted with melted Roaring 40s bleu cheese and filled with the lamb, bell peppers, and myriad of spices. The bleu has a special place in our hearts - we first encountered it on our trip to Gary Danko's restaurant in San Francisco. It completed the cheesesteak so perfectly without overpowering it. Incredible. For being such a stinky, potent little cheese - I was very surprised. Unfortunately... we were in a hurry and I felt like I shouldn't take seconds. On my run this morning, I realized I reallllllly should have. If not for the calories, just to savor the flavor.
Oh well. The four (or five) rice krispy treats I had late at book club probably didn't help the situation.
I am fumbling around in my laundry basket. There are at least five pairs of running shorts in here... why can't I find just one?
Because... it's 4:48 in the morning and really - a growing lady like myself should be sleeping right now. I usually avoid this situation altogether by laying out my running clothes the night before but last night I was on strike.
When I get in the car I just blast my eardrums into awakening - drive past the even-crazier-than-me cyclists - and pull into the church parking lot where we meet for Miner's Run. The loud music suddenly seems way out of place as my headlights swing around to light up a number of headstones in the cemetery. I quickly turn it down and turn off the car... slightly uncomfortable for no good reason. Waiting for the rest of the group, I think about how when I was younger, I used to hold my breath when I passed a cemetery. I only did it because my sister told me to. I never really understood the concept and then one day someone told me it was terribly disrespectful of the dead. So I stopped doing it.
Meg and Spada met me early and we made our way down to the rubberized track. I knew it was going to be a struggle when the loops around the dark track started to feel like work less than ten minutes in. We looped back around and picked up the rest of the crew to head down Sardis - and right about then, I knew I was in trouble.
I ended up in a very engaging conversation that took a good amount of energy both mental and physical. Completely rehashed last night's book club discussion of C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity with a fellow lover of his work. As taxing as this was and I didn't feel like I should be pushing it hard like that... the conversation was so good that I do not take it back for a moment. Spada and I eventually broke off from the group to head back and with the unfortunate weight of time pressing down hard - we continued a non-recovery pace to the car.
((Meanwhile)) Spada's been doing a little book exchange with Paul Mainwaring - another incredible athlete in the area - and they have been switching at Miner's Run. So Spada has two books in his hands when we start the run, thinking he's going to run into Paul along the way. Paul apparently didn't show today and Spada ends up leaving the books where we will come back later - about two miles in. On our way back he dashes over to grab his two books, "Hey, you're in the book club, but I've got the books!" I really can NOT imagine running with two big books in my hand. ((He's a champ.))
For the last six miles or so I could feel my energy levels dropping to the floor... I was starving. Last night was book club night which means two things:
1) an incredible night of thought-provoking discourse on humanity and its twisted tangle with christianity
and
2) dinner by the boy
I had rushed over to dinner around 6:30 so we could eat and drive uptown without being late. (I hate being late. No really... I absolutely despise it). Roasted brussel sprouts (with a sprinkle of nutmeg, making it a little different than usual) were just being pulled out of the oven as a skillet of lamb cheesesteak sizzled on the stove. The buns for the cheesesteak were toasted with melted Roaring 40s bleu cheese and filled with the lamb, bell peppers, and myriad of spices. The bleu has a special place in our hearts - we first encountered it on our trip to Gary Danko's restaurant in San Francisco. It completed the cheesesteak so perfectly without overpowering it. Incredible. For being such a stinky, potent little cheese - I was very surprised. Unfortunately... we were in a hurry and I felt like I shouldn't take seconds. On my run this morning, I realized I reallllllly should have. If not for the calories, just to savor the flavor.
Oh well. The four (or five) rice krispy treats I had late at book club probably didn't help the situation.
4.06.2010
Regret
Whatever I said about that nighttime run being "necessary" was stupid.
It was not necessary. It was stupid.
It was not necessary. It was stupid.
4.05.2010
Rocks, roots, and two exhausted runners.
Dear sir or madam... it is that time of year - when everyone starts feeling the beauty and the warmth and the need to be out of doors. We got a later start to running than my usual 5:30 am so I actually got to soak up the sunshine and the 70 something degree morning.
Decided to do a true long run this morning. It brought me back to the days of marathon training... when 16.5 was pretty standard fare. It was a confidence building run for both myself and the boy because it was his longest run yet and it was proof for me that I am not losing "everything." Stopped for water and a bathroom break after about 50 minutes or so but other than that it was 2 hours and 12 minutes of continuous running.
Not too shabby.
Especially on the trails at Anne Springs which were putting a serious hurting on my legs for the last half hour or so. We were fortunate enough to hit almost all my favorite spots on this one run. Took Blue Star again and followed that along beside the water until it curved off towards the Dairy Barn. Don't let the name fool you... this is no po'dunk little barn action here. The wooded trail gives way to a wide open field of long lush grass.
After you cross the road you run beside another large expanse of green green grass accompanied by a picture-perfect white picket fence and a scattering of horses. Does it get much better? Along the gravel road a gleaming white dairy "barn" dominates the landscape. It is an imposing but beautiful structure that is in stark contrast to the humble, historic cabin a little further down the way. The gravel takes you to a loop around Lake Haigler which is a nice respite from long straightaways. This brought back all kinds of memories of painful glory from the Anne Springs Half Marathon I ran last year around this time.
On the way back, I hopped through the grass conjuring images of Sound of Music and Jeff made the comment, "It's all fun and games until someone steps on a snake." This put me squarely back into alert zone as I made for the trail opening.
I felt a little sore and my legs were protesting a bit but when I reached the trail map kiosk that ends the run I was exhilarated. Ran over to the water spigot and turned it full blast on my outstretched palms - raising handfuls of cold water to my mouth. This is my kind of beginning to a day. We walked over to the car and I collected chocolate milk money from my honey.
Later in the day we sat around and shuffled through my taxes before heading to my parents' for dinner. A little more complicated than usual this year but I had a semi-professional help me out. And he was cute too so... no complaints. Then we were supposed to bring an appetizer... we brought something so beautiful it is a sin that I did not photograph it and post it here.
The boy whipped up some boursin cheese and light cream to a nice consistency and refrigerated it for our tax session. Then he rolled cold red grapes in the cheese before dropping them into a bowl of crushed pistachios which I whirled around to coat before dropping on a cookie sheet. Assembly-line style, we prepared a healthy number and put them in the freezer to keep for a bit. We served them in a white, square-shaped bowl and the green color of the pistachio looked perfect. Filling in taste and texture the grapes were a hit but we had some leftover - perfect for the next day's snack as we sat around preparing food for Easter dinner!
Decided to do a true long run this morning. It brought me back to the days of marathon training... when 16.5 was pretty standard fare. It was a confidence building run for both myself and the boy because it was his longest run yet and it was proof for me that I am not losing "everything." Stopped for water and a bathroom break after about 50 minutes or so but other than that it was 2 hours and 12 minutes of continuous running.
Not too shabby.
Especially on the trails at Anne Springs which were putting a serious hurting on my legs for the last half hour or so. We were fortunate enough to hit almost all my favorite spots on this one run. Took Blue Star again and followed that along beside the water until it curved off towards the Dairy Barn. Don't let the name fool you... this is no po'dunk little barn action here. The wooded trail gives way to a wide open field of long lush grass.
After you cross the road you run beside another large expanse of green green grass accompanied by a picture-perfect white picket fence and a scattering of horses. Does it get much better? Along the gravel road a gleaming white dairy "barn" dominates the landscape. It is an imposing but beautiful structure that is in stark contrast to the humble, historic cabin a little further down the way. The gravel takes you to a loop around Lake Haigler which is a nice respite from long straightaways. This brought back all kinds of memories of painful glory from the Anne Springs Half Marathon I ran last year around this time.
On the way back, I hopped through the grass conjuring images of Sound of Music and Jeff made the comment, "It's all fun and games until someone steps on a snake." This put me squarely back into alert zone as I made for the trail opening.
I felt a little sore and my legs were protesting a bit but when I reached the trail map kiosk that ends the run I was exhilarated. Ran over to the water spigot and turned it full blast on my outstretched palms - raising handfuls of cold water to my mouth. This is my kind of beginning to a day. We walked over to the car and I collected chocolate milk money from my honey.
Later in the day we sat around and shuffled through my taxes before heading to my parents' for dinner. A little more complicated than usual this year but I had a semi-professional help me out. And he was cute too so... no complaints. Then we were supposed to bring an appetizer... we brought something so beautiful it is a sin that I did not photograph it and post it here.
The boy whipped up some boursin cheese and light cream to a nice consistency and refrigerated it for our tax session. Then he rolled cold red grapes in the cheese before dropping them into a bowl of crushed pistachios which I whirled around to coat before dropping on a cookie sheet. Assembly-line style, we prepared a healthy number and put them in the freezer to keep for a bit. We served them in a white, square-shaped bowl and the green color of the pistachio looked perfect. Filling in taste and texture the grapes were a hit but we had some leftover - perfect for the next day's snack as we sat around preparing food for Easter dinner!
Impatience Wins Out
It is Friday night. My blood is boiling in my veins because it is time to run and I have been holding back this rush of thought and stress and emotion for too long. I am fully aware of the stupidity and the immaturity and the impatience involved.
But I'm running.
I'm heading down the driveway into the dark night. I'm hopping over sidewalks and lowering my eyes against the headlights down Fairview Rd. I'm taking matters into my own feet so to speak.
My breathing is hard. Harder than it should be. My feet are falling loudly. Louder than they should be.
But I'm running.
My eyes are squinting so hard and all I can hope is that these sidewalks are smooth smooth smooth or I'm going down down down.
But I roll up to the house after a 40 minute super-short jaunt and the sweat is beading up on my skin as the dogs rush me and try to lick the salt off my legs... the day is over. And I'm ok with that... now.
It was stupid. But it was necessary.
But I'm running.
I'm heading down the driveway into the dark night. I'm hopping over sidewalks and lowering my eyes against the headlights down Fairview Rd. I'm taking matters into my own feet so to speak.
My breathing is hard. Harder than it should be. My feet are falling loudly. Louder than they should be.
But I'm running.
My eyes are squinting so hard and all I can hope is that these sidewalks are smooth smooth smooth or I'm going down down down.
But I roll up to the house after a 40 minute super-short jaunt and the sweat is beading up on my skin as the dogs rush me and try to lick the salt off my legs... the day is over. And I'm ok with that... now.
It was stupid. But it was necessary.
4.01.2010
Oct-o-pus
My brother's octopus terrine... I found this while salivating through his pictures on flickr.com. Looks like something needs to be attempted... and I don't think I even need to run that many miles to justify this. Ha... as if I really justify anything through mileage.
Pepperoni Miles
New route on the roads this morning. Thursday morning runs are becoming a new routine... and I am liking it. I get up and start heading down the road until I see my running partner and he shows me the ropes. I've been housesitting for this beautiful little abode for most of 2010 so far and I am still finding my running legs in the area. Exploring is in order as soon as I get healthy. For now, when I don't have time or energy to get lost, I'll just follow someone else's lead. Tidbit from the run with Spada today (check out his running blog here):
______________________________
Yesterday I asked the boy to join me for lunch. He asked where I wanted him to meet me and I said, "Well, are you ok with cheap Mexican?" Enter Huevos Rancheros and Pollo con Queso (emphasis on the queso).
That was round one.
At night we helped a couple friends of ours move into a new spiffy place in the uptown/downtown area. We had done a good bit of up and down the stairs and out to the car and up and down the stairs and - well you get it - before hot pepperoni pizza arrived. Shining in all it's greasy glory. And let me tell you something, it hit the spot.
That was round two.
Round three was my body retaliating this morning. I felt like a fat sack of snacks* on my little ten mile jaunt. Yuckity yuck yuck. But it was really good at the time, right?
*fat sack of snacks is pretty much a trademarked expression from a good friend of mine and therefore, I cannot take credit for its genius of descriptive ability.
Spada: So you want to know what I have to drink every night before I go to sleep?
Me: Umm... iced tea? (his aforementioned drink of choice)
Spada: No no no... a milkshake.
Me: Milkshake?! Chocolate or vanilla?
Spada: Well... funny you ask. Usually vanilla, but I got chocolate this last time. It takes me about three days to go through a half gallon.
Me: You're kidding, aren't you?
Spada: No way! Every night... for the last 15 years.
Me: *speechless*
______________________________
Yesterday I asked the boy to join me for lunch. He asked where I wanted him to meet me and I said, "Well, are you ok with cheap Mexican?" Enter Huevos Rancheros and Pollo con Queso (emphasis on the queso).
That was round one.
At night we helped a couple friends of ours move into a new spiffy place in the uptown/downtown area. We had done a good bit of up and down the stairs and out to the car and up and down the stairs and - well you get it - before hot pepperoni pizza arrived. Shining in all it's greasy glory. And let me tell you something, it hit the spot.
That was round two.
Round three was my body retaliating this morning. I felt like a fat sack of snacks* on my little ten mile jaunt. Yuckity yuck yuck. But it was really good at the time, right?
*fat sack of snacks is pretty much a trademarked expression from a good friend of mine and therefore, I cannot take credit for its genius of descriptive ability.
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