Food blogs

Blogs make it so easy to procrastinate. Seriously. If I find an interesting one I can sit there reading for awhile and lose all track of time—this is dangerous because a lot of times I’ll be taking a break from work and my “break” turns into an hour. Oops.

I found a new one recently that has me all kinds of entertained: Eat, Live, Run. Over time I’ve come to realize that I missed out on learning about things like healthy eating and proper nutrition, and this blog is really informative. Plus, the author inspired me to put peanut butter in my oatmeal, and is that ever a delicious idea!!! I've gotten a lot of really cool food ideas from her. And I recommend the peanut butter in the oatmeal thing to all of you.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading about food and nutrition lately. It’s amazing that I don’t already know what I should be eating. Another thing that’s been helping me are Jillian Michael’s podcasts of her weekly radio show. Shawna introduced me to them and I’ve been listening when I work out lately. Not only does she give her listeners information about exercise, but she also has a lot of good food tips. I’ve found some to be particularly helpful because I have a friend who is trying to deal with being pre-diabetic and has to eat high-protein breakfasts. Did anyone else not know that oatmeal has protein in it? I certainly never knew that. Also, I kind of love Jillian Michaels and think she has fabulous hair. I would like to be best friends with her and her hair dresser, please.

How do people grow up knowing these things about food? And a random sidenote: my parents made me a ton of homemade applesauce (apples and cinnamon, and that’s it) and it is seriously awesome. If you’ve never made your own applesauce, go try it. Right now. Also, tell me interesting things about food that you never knew before.

I feel so productive.

Not only did I join a gym today, but I actually went to the gym! Oh yeah. I am so punk rock.

Due to the fact that I live in the middle of nowhere I had a limited number of gyms to choose from. I chose the one that isn't a chain (I'm all about supporting local business)--turns out its kind of ghetto fabulous, which I'm also amused by. It has a lot of cardio equipment and a whole bunch of weights and whatnot, and it was moderately cheap, so it seemed fine. The owner wasn't busy while I was there so he offered to show me how the equipment works, which was nice of him cause big electronic things tend to frighten me.

I must admit that I really almost chickened out. There is absolutely no reason why I should be afraid of gyms, but I kind of am. I swear my gym class experiences in school have damaged me emotionally--and I'm only partly kidding. Anyway, it turns out that it wasn't as terrifying as I expected. Luckily I was talking on the phone to a friend when I pulled into the parking lot and she yelled at me and told me not to be afraid of the gym people (she has a gym membership already so I trusted her).

After signing up I came home and thought to myself, "Self, why don't you actually go use that membership?" Back to the gym I went. I only logged in a little time on the elliptical since I'm trying to take it easy for the rest of the week. For the most part, I was the only person there. Later a man came in and did some weight lifting and hardcore grunting. It was pretty uneventful.

There you have it. Don't be afraid of the gym. They aren't that scary. Am I the only person afraid of gyms?

A new adventure!

I am joining a gym. That's right, the girl who is completely terrified of gyms and had never run on a treadmill until recently is joining a gym. It's not as expensive as I thought, and so I'm going to go for it.

Why, you ask?

Because it is f-ing cold outside. I know myself. As much as I say that I'll go running when there is a blizzard going on, that is a lie. It's f-ing cold out there, people.

So I'm going to join a gym--but probably only until it warms up enough to be outside again. Running in one spot sounds incredibly boring compared to running through the countryside. Details of my gym adventures to follow eventually.

Not so super. Don't let the photo fool you.

I forget that I don’t have super powers. Sure, it’s good to push yourself, but sometimes a person’s body just needs a break. I think I'’ve hit that point.

For the past few months I'’ve been doing some hardcore half marathon training and now that I'’m done with that event I have been thinking of what to jump into next--—there’s the 30 Day Shred, or I could be a triathlete, or I could just keep on trucking and go for a full marathon (which I plan to do. Portland Marathon, October 4, 2009. I am so there). I find motivation in setting goals for myself.

Monday evening I decided it was perfectly logical to run four miles. I'’m pretty sure that was a bad idea after having run a half marathon just two days prior. My legs were screaming at me the next morning. Also on Monday, I started the 30 Day Shred at level one. Sadly, I did not want to cry after completing the level one workout so Tuesday I moved on to level two: —much more to my liking, as this horrible thing called a plank jack made me want to punch myself in the face. That'’s just how I like to feel when I’m working out.

The problem is that I’ am fatigued. My legs are unhappy. I know that exercise does make a person feel pain, but that'’s the good pain and the kind of pain that I strive for. This is “"post-half marathon and I’'m doing too much"” pain. The kind of pain that leads to injury and suffering. Before all of you 30 Day Shred enthusiasts tell me that I’'m supposed to feel this way, allow me to explain: I haven'’t given my body a day off in quite some time, I have been warding off a cold for a few days, and I’'m pretty sure if you look up the definition of “over training” you would find a picture of me.

Last night I was reading “Runner’s World” at the library while waiting for Shawna to get off work (mainly because I saw that it featured an article on winter running and I wanted to find out if it was a bad idea to do things like run during a torrential downpour) and found an article about recovery time. According to people who know these things, I was supposed to take a break from running for a full week after a half marathon.

Oops. Maybe that’s why I feel like this? So for the next week, I am officially taking it easy. I need to remember this before I start to think that I can fly or walk through walls or anything.

America is awesome.

Last night was the type of night that people will never forget. Amazing. That’s all I can say. Ironically I wasn’'t even watching the results when it was announced that Obama won. During the last election results took forever so I figured I had plenty of time and was waiting for Shawna to get off work. As I stood outside the building, shivering because it was f-ing cold last night, I heard people shouting and horns honking. A few seconds later my mother called me, cheering, and I said, “"Oh damn, I just missed the exciting part, huh?”"

Luckily Shawna and I made it to a television in time to hear Obama speak. We joined the crowd in a downtown bar and ordered a couple beers (so much for my pledge to never drink again. I drank about half of a beer called “Blonde Bombshell” which I ordered because it has a cool name). Afterwards we enlisted the help of a stranger to take photos of us in front of the Obama headquarters. Turns out the strangers were also Obama fans and we ended up hugging strangers on the street corner and then cheering for a person riding a bicycle while carrying an American flag. I love America.

For your amusement, here are photos of our adventures:

Guess who our next president is?

Someone awesome and I'm oh so glad.

Time to vote!

Have you voted yet? If not, you should. I am wearing my Obama button today just because I can. I see that Shawna already beat me to a post about election day—she’s just too quick! Tonight will definitely be interesting as we watch the results come in. Yay democracy!

I had a strange experience recently regarding politics. First of all, I’m totally in favor of people forming their own political opinions. I have my beliefs, but I can assure that they are the complete opposite of many people in my life. My father is Republican (or so he says… I suspect he’s lying to himself) and many of my closest friends are the most conservative people you’ll ever meet. That’s never been an issue for me even though I am, by most definitions, a raging liberal. Luckily I have the right to believe what I want to believe. Yay America!

The town I grew up in is small and conservative. This past weekend I stopped to visit my parents on my way to Boise for the half marathon and on my way out of town I went to a gas station to fill my tank up. Currently my car is sporting an Obama bumper sticker. It’s also sporting an awesome sticker in the shape of Oregon with a green heart in the middle as well as a band-aid bumper sticker where I hit a parked car awhile back. I’m a classy broad, really. I didn’t even think about this until the gas station attendants proceeded to begin making derogatory statements about Obama… and then about ME! Clearly, I had my window rolled down. Clearly, they meant for me to hear them. D-bags.

Luckily I decided to be a bigger person and just ignored them. I hate confrontation anyway. I have no problem with them having a different opinion than I do—my problem was that they decided to voice it that way. There is a time and a place for politics and being disrespectful (and downright mean) while helping a customer is not one of them. I thought it would stop there and I really wasn’t very concerned. I was in a town with McCain/Palin signs on every corner so I suppose things like this can be expected. But then the pump stopped and they asked if I’d like the tank topped off—I responded, “Yes, please.” (Look how polite I am! Even though they were being rude!) One attendant then put in a whopping FOUR MORE CENTS and said, “That’s enough for her. You know Obama wouldn’t even top it off at all, he’d share it with everyone.” The men laughed, and one took my receipt, shoved it in my window, and walked away without another word.

How is that okay? Just because I don’t have the same opinions they do they decided it was acceptable to act like that? A huge reason why this annoyed me so much is that if they don’t top the tank off at least a little bit (certainly more than four cents) my tank doesn’t go all the way up to the full marker, and holy CRAP that is annoying.

These men were jerks. I wrote a letter about it to the gas station manager because I was that bothered. I don’t care what they believe in—they should believe in respecting a person’s right to their own opinion as well.

And that is one reason why I was so excited to have voted. No matter how ridiculously obnoxious that experience was, at least I know I have the right to choose my candidate. Yay voting!

It's election day!

Leslie and I are going to gather this evening and bite our nails as the results come in. Go vote! Apparently (if you don't live in Oregon and therefore vote by mail) you can get an "I voted" sticker, and claim some free swag. Nice! Go make me proud, and get a free coffee while you are at it.



This is a historic day, and I think we all know that. You may have read or heard this being read on CNN today, and I think it's quite beautiful.

There is a moment, a simple moment, before history gets recorded.
Before it goes in the books.
Before it appears as a question on a game show.
Or, on a midterm exam.
A moment right before the headline is written.
There is a moment when history lives in the present.
When we can watch it unfold in real time, right before our eyes.
And we can all assume our place in it.
Some people live for history
We live for the moment just before.

I am a camera whore.

Sometimes I wonder why I am motivated to live the way I live. Why I exercise regularly, why I eat healthy foods, why I proceed to be as awesome as possible. Today that very thing came into question again when I had an off day. You know the days when stuff is just not working? That was my day today.

I think that perhaps the time change threw me off. My hangover is gone (hurray!) but I woke up just feeling kind of gross. I ate crap yesterday cause I felt like crap, and my impending sickness seems determined to arrive. When I went for my four mile run the skies decided to open up and release a torrential downpour. The wind was icy cold and slapping me directly in the face, I was soaked, and it was dark and unpleasant outside. I didn't even take my favorite four-mile route because it was pitch black and I prefer to stick close to street lights in order to avoid being murdered or eaten by wild animals. As I trudged along and tried unsuccessfully to avoid puddles I thought to myself, "Self, what the f are you doing outside right now? It's cold and unfriendly out here." Then the hail started.

So here is a weird and narcissistic thing I sometimes do when I feel this way: I look at old photos of myself and remember what I have accomplished. That's right, I'm a camera whore and very vain. Don't judge. I forget that 70 pounds is a lot and sometimes I have to remind myself. I figure the changes I have created in myself are pretty good motivation. Also, not dying due to obesity related illnesses is another huge plus. All but one of the following are photos from the races I've done--not for any particular reason, I just thought it was interesting. I shall now proceed to humor myself. Enjoy.

Here is me at about 220 pounds:


The first 5K, April 2008:


The second 5K, July 2008:


Birthday 10K, September 2008:


And half marathon, last weekend:


I think that part of the reason I do this sometimes is that I don't realize how I have changed my body until I see photos of myself. So it might be a little strange, but it helps me remember that even though I may want to rip my legs off and hit myself in the face with them sometimes (like when I run 4 miles during a horrendous storm) there is definitely a method to my madness.

And that is enough of my rambling for today.

Half Marathon: FINISHED!!!!

Official time: 2:32:46!

Don't I look so victorious and non-sweaty in this photo? It's because we took it before I ran. I'm tricky like that.



I arrived in Boise on Friday and stopped to see a friend who just had a baby. Later I met up with a few other friends and we went to a corn maze in the dark which is just as creepy as it sounds. Also, I had a really good excuse to consume mass amounts of pasta and bread. Oh how I love me some carbs...

The next morning I had to pick up my packet and such at 8 a.m. My friend drove the course with me the night before whereupon I said awesome things like, "You call this a hill?" and "I'm going to kick these hills in the vagina!" Over the course of 13.1 miles there were three major hills--the first was gradual over three miles, the second was a baby hill and the third was a crazy ass-kicking hill that has probably sent someone into cardiac arrest at one point. Basically, I was glad I'd trained on hills, but still rather scared.

Before the race I was incredibly nervous. No matter how I looked at it, 13.1 miles seemed like a damn long way. Before the other races I have done (and I've only run three... two 5ks and a 10k) I was nervous but knew that it was only a limited amount of torture. A half marathon meant a couple hours of torture. Scary stuff.

Before I knew it we were lining up at the start. I tend to be ridiculously chatty so I ended up talking to a woman who had a baby five months ago. She hadn't actually trained for this type of distance and told me she'd only done 6 miles at a time. She stuck with me for about a mile and fell back--I hope she finished! She seemed very nice. Anyway, I tend to be okay at pacing myself so I tried to stay at a somewhat slower pace at the beginning in order to not want to die towards the end of the race. I kept seeing things people had dropped--a car key, energy gel, lip gloss... who carries lip gloss with them during a half marathon? I thought that was weird.

By mile three I started to get a little warm (I wore a zip up jacket cause it was f-ing cold and raining) so I became very creative in my methods of unpinning my number and pinning it to my tank top so I could tie my jacket around my waist. I'm amazing. It took some serious skill to do that and continue running, but luckily it distracted me from the torture of the first hill. Before I knew it I was over the first hill and running through a cute little town. Volunteers cheered me on, which was nice of them, and a man stared at my fellow runners and I as if he were wondering what the heck hundreds of people were doing running by his house. That would make a person curious.

Around this point I noticed that I was running behind a giant man. He was ridiculously tall. Also, he and his running buddy kept taking walking breaks so I would catch up to them (slow and steady wins the race, except they totally finished before me but whatever) and just as I would pass them they'd start running again, go super fast, and walk awhile later.

The second hill was tiny (if by tiny you assume I mean only moderately painful) and the next few miles passed by without incident. I chatted with a few old men around me. It's strange but it seems like I always end up with the old men--during the 10k I made friends with an old man and ran with him the whole time.

And then came the third hill... Ah, the torturous third hill. It hurt. It hurt badly. As we began to climb it the view was of the road winding up a gigantic mountain in front of us--I could see people waaaaaay ahead of me reaching the summit. I'm from Oregon; I don't throw the word "mountain" around lightly. The f-ing hill was huge. At one point the road leveled out a bit and I said to one of the old men running next to me, "This is the top, right?" He hesitated, so then I told him to please lie to me. He obliged. Five seconds later I said, "You really are a liar. But I appreciate the effort."

This hill did not mess around. The man I had been speaking proceeded to say, "Oh there will be a nice walk in a minute." In my head my reaction was, "Walking?!?! Pshaw! Walking is for sissies! There will be no walking!" When I was maybe a tenth of a mile from the top of the hill I looked around me and everyone was walking. Not a single person was still running--next to me, in front of me, or behind me. At this point I knew I had to walk. I find no shame in this because it was either walk to the top of the hill or die trying to run just for the point of running. That hill was a bitch.

Finally I did reach the top, and my new friend told me that it really was the top. Also, he warned me that right at the end there was another tiny hill that surprises you but once you are over it the finish line is right there. He was a wise fellow. I believe the third hill ended around mile 8 or 9... Somewhere around this point I noticed that I could hear my arm flab slapping against my side--I'm not saying that to be self deprecating, I just had never noticed that it makes a sound because usually I run while listening to music. During the race I wanted to focus and listen to nature, so I was discovering all kinds of interesting things. So that was fun. I started to wonder what the heck happened to mile 10 because I swear it took awhile to show up, but eventually it did. Miles 10 to 11 were moderately uneventful. There was running. I ran, and ran, and ran. At one of the aid stations the cups were bigger than usual and my attempt to drink whilst running led to me pouring water directly down my shirt, but it was very refreshing so I figure it served the same purpose. Eventually we came back towards town where a nice man had his hose turned on for the runners passing by his yard. Right before mile 12 one of the volunteers yelled, "You have under a mile left!" Either someone didn't inform her what mile marker she was at or she was just lying to us so we'd keep going--either way, it was mean, because then I saw the mile 12 marker and knew it was actually just OVER a mile.

I ran up the final incline and saw the finish in the distance! Woo hoo! That's always my favorite part. I decided to show off and sprinted to the finish, if by sprinting you take it to mean "ran at a slightly quicker pace in order to not look like a turtle could beat me." I saw my cheering squad, which consisted of a few friends and my parents, and raised my arms above my head while yelling, "WOOO! I AM DONE!" Lucky for all of you, they captured me looking happy to be finishing:



After the race I went out on the town with a few friends, and it was then that I remembered why I don't drink very often. Back in my college days I did my fair share of partying and could hold my own when it came to beer drinking. Now, however, I rarely have more than one or two drinks. Even having one drink usually leaves me feeling gross so I tend to just not bother. Last night involved WAY too much booze for me... Today I feel like crap and had to drive seven hours to get home. Unpleasant, to say the least. My night ended like this:



So now I can say I have finished a half marathon. I think that's pretty cool. Also, it was f-ing hard. I feel very badass.

For some reason (I think the adrenaline made me a little insane) I told the cheering squad that I'm going to run the Portland Marathon next October. It went something like this: they asked when I was going to do a full marathon and I responded with, "I don't know... how about next October? That's when the Portland Marathon happens, I think." So now I have basically committed myself to going for the full marathon. I'm just glad I have almost a year to prepare for that one!!!

I finished in 711th place out of 908 people. I'll take it! That means I ran about 11:30 miles and I'm quite happy with that. I finished earlier than I expected and definitely accomplished my only goal (to finish). I'm proud of myself!