Misadventures in 2009

I am too uncool to come up with my own way to reflect on 2009, so I'm going to copy my good friend Mark Remy at Runner's World (Oops, did I say good friend? He doesn't know me or my work, but I know his well!)

2009 was a big fat year of change for me and my family. And you can read all about it in the following recap, organized by month. Enjoy!

January
I kicked off the new year with two resolutions -- to run two marathons and journal once a week. Did I achieve them? Neither one. But I did run at least one full marathon in 2009. Although I didn't journal weekly, I took a writing class. I made apple crisp for the first time. My car, which I have since sold, continued to give me a financial headache in 2009 after an expensive 2008. And this recap wouldn't be complete without a mention of the creatures of the night.

February
I was a lame blogger and attempted to try a new recipe -- or at least write about one -- every Monday. I think I can count on one hand how many times I accomplished this.

March
Despite the cold and snow, training for the Fargo Marathon was in full swing. Taking a break from winter, Ben and I spent a week in Honduras. My car was still good company for bad luck. And I cooked but I warn you ahead of time that I did a shoddy job writing about it.

April
I was an awful blogger, so this month isn't worth recapping. I did cool things, though, like watch Twilight for the first time. And I ran a 20-mile race in St. Cloud in preparation for the Fargo Marathon. After the race, I drove to Rochester for a bachelorette party and discovered that I would make the most uncoordinated stripper. If only I had written about those things...

May
Again, why the heck didn't I blog? Oh yeah, I was busy running the Fargo Marathon in personal record time and working. Sorry.

June
I went public with the news that I would be moving to Evanston so Ben could attend business school at Northwestern University. I loved my job, my city, my friends and my family and didn't want to leave all behind. The only day I ever dreaded going into work was the day I had to tell my editor that I was moving.

July
My darling sister married her high school sweetheart on July 11. I enjoyed some small-town running while spending time with my mom after I left my job and before I went to Italy to finally practice my much-forgotten Italian.

August
We abandoned our Minneapolis digs, and we moved to Evanston.

September
I complained about or mentioned being unemployed here, here and here. I embraced being frugal and writing about it. Having a sick dog really really sucked. And of course, I did a little cooking. Yay for sweet corn!

October
I ran a lot and even got pooped on during one outing. It did not bring me good luck, at least in terms of employment. Indie got to drink hydrogen peroxide for the first and, I hope, last time. I made for the first time what has become my signature dessert. And I experimented...

November
If you are ever interested in a middle-distance race, you should do the Hot Chocolate 15k. I did, and I loved it. I made the most amazing pork chops (If you haven't tried this recipe, I urge you to do so in 2010. Make it a resolution!). I turned 26!!! and failed to write about it with any depth.

December
The bulk of my posts were about baking, and my waist shows it. I have since stocked my fridge with the green stuff. My creative non-fiction writing class ended. And despite those additional inches of fat around my waist, I was still a beef magnet.

My dear friends and family, Happy New Year! May 2010 be a good one...for all of us.

You asked, and I answered.

One of my three loyal readers threatened cardiac arrest if for one more day the first thing she sees on this blog is a photo of chili.

I love my reader and wouldn't want her to land in the ER, so my solution is a half-ass post until I can write something more substantial tomorrow.

Maybe I'll write about the holidays. Or the resolutions I didn't accomplish in 2009. Resolutions in 2010 I pledge to accomplish but probably won't. Or maybe I'll cough up a post about the botched caramels I made before heading to Minnesota for Christmas.

Until then, I leave you with a photo of all the snow my mom got at her home in southwestern Minnesota during a whopper of a holiday storm.

Easy Chili

Ben has been in Colorado all week and is due to return tomorrow night. My "cooking" has been limited to English muffins, bowls of cereal, oatmeal and frozen meals.

I would probably still be eating buttered noodles or cereal every night for dinner if I was living by myself. With the exception of baking, I am lazy in the kitchen. Marrying Ben has made me a little less so.

After a week of eating food that didn't excite my palate, I decided last night to really cook. Instead of learning a new recipe, I whipped up a batch of chili, which requires no recipe. It's experimentation at its easiest.

Here's a rough sketch of what I made:

Easy Chili
Ingredients
--2 28 oz. cans of diced tomatoes
--1 15 oz. can of tomato sauce
--1 30 oz. can of kidney beans*
--1 onion, chopped
--1 green pepper, chopped
--1 jalapeno pepper, chopped **
--1 pound of hamburger
--Cumin, a few teaspoons***
--Chili powder, a few teaspoons***
--Cayenne red pepper, 1-2 teaspoons***
--Garlic salt, to taste***

Instructions:
Brown the hamburger with the vegetables. Drain. Add hamburger and vegetable mix to pot of remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil. Simmer for at least an hour.

*I used to loathe beans. But when I made my mother-in-law's chili several weeks ago, I didn't mind them. I say throw them in the chili. You can always pick them out.

**I got a jalapeno pepper from the grocery store but couldn't use it because the interior was brown. Gross. Nex time, I'll get it from a grocery store with better produce.

***I didn't measure.

The personal fitness assessment, part II.

I'm not very good at kicking my own ass.

Today, I returned to the gym for the first time since the personal assessment. I gave myself a day off on Wednesday because I felt like a 90-year-old and thought my body needed -- and deserved -- a break. I ventured out yesterday morning for a short run, even though my quads were still tight.

I set up my personal circuit at the gym without the guidance of the personal trainer. I did squats, push-ups and crunches. I exercised my triceps, but skipped out on the biceps. Oops. I warmed up prior to conditioning, on top of the three miles I ran on the treadmill. I'm confident I followed the resistance training just as I was taught on Tuesday, with the exception that I didn't push myself so hard that I wanted to throw up. I settled for some sweating.

Although I'm no match for my trainer, and I didn't kick my own ass, I did come home with a sore hip. It has ached all afternoon.

My left hip first started hurting around Thanksgiving. The cause, I think, was not exercising but being behind the wheel for hours. We drove to Lincoln, Neb., for Thanksgiving, and I spent a majority of the time behind the wheel on our 8-hour drive to and from Nebraska. I think my lax posture did me in, finally.

The pain was hibernating. Until today. Seriously, as I type this while sitting on my couch, my hip is doing more than aching. It's throbbing.

Reflections on running in 2009.

I reached 1,000 miles run in 2009 during my 6:30 a.m. outing with my good pal Kara today.

The time I spent on the road during this past year adds up to more than six days of running. I think this speaks to the dedication to and love I have for it.

Yet I don't feel a huge sense of accomplishment. Maybe I should have stepped up my game and tried for 1,500 miles in 2009. This year, I repeated 2008's 1,000-mile achievement.

I must remind myself of other running accomplishments from this year.
--I PR'd (personal record) at the Fargo Marathon, finishing in 4 hours, 12 minutes -- an improvement over my 4 hour, 20 minute finish at the Twin Cities Marathon in October 2008. Remember, kiddos, that was the year runners were soaked for half Twin Cities Marathon. I got so cold from the pouring rain that I needed someone to tie my shoes, because my fingers wouldn't work.
--I ran my first ever 15k, and I finished with my running buddy Naomi and Ben. I was incredibly happy with average 9:06-minute mile pace I kept up throughout the race. It gives me hope that I can knock a few minutes off my half-marathon time.

2010 will bring more races. I have already signed up for the North Shore Half Marathon, which falls on June 13. Barring any injury (knock on wood, I haven't had a serious injury that kept me from running for more than four days), I plan to the run the Bank of America Chicago Marathon. And I look forward to running it with some of the buddies I've made in Evanston. To my running friends and relatives back in Minnesota, you are welcome to visit and run these races or cheer me on. Cheerleaders are good:)

I hope the new year will also bring more quality miles, and that I will place more value on the quality of my runs than the number of miles I record in my Runner's World log. What matters is that I keep on running. Because I can.

The personal fitness assessment.

I have fainted only once in my 26 years. I was on the job, interviewing a couple who owned an outfitter store in Winona, Minn.

I abruptly ended the interview and was on my way out of the store to cool off when my world went dark. I tumbled, taking down the store displays with me. Except for scraped hands and knees and bruised pride, I was OK. I drank some water, flattened my skirt, walked out of the store and returned to work for a day just like any other.

Today, I thought I might faint for the second time in my life. Boys and girls, this was not in my head.* I thought, one more lift or squat or push-up, and I might keel over. Right here. In this stretching room. How embarrassing. I would be that girl.

And I've run marathons. What kind of distance runner faints while lifting a 10-pound weight?

I was in the middle of my personal fitness assessment with a trainer, who I thought would weigh me and check my body fat, go over my goals, show me around the gym and send me on my merry way. But my appointment with the trainer turned out to be a real kick-in-the-ass workout. OK, so the trainer didn't literally kick me in the ass, but he was close. During a wall push-up, he pushed against my shoulders. And again during a squat.

In the stretching room -- thank God we didn't have to venture into Man's Land, as my cousin Abby calls it -- the trainer set up a circuit station with five and 10-pounds weights, a platform and a BOSU trainer (half ball). We moved from one exercise to another with little or no break. I squatted using multiple techniques. I did push-ups. Two kinds. I never do push-ups. I did crunches.

I sweat more than I've probably ever sweat running. The sweat glistened. It glistened! Even though I had told my trainer that I wanted to look more toned, I thought to myself while lifting that I looked pretty darn good, hot, maybe, in the only way a sweaty girl can look hot while exercising.

As much as I loved hearing, "Brady, that's perfect," or "Brady, push hard," or "Brady, just one more for good luck," I could only do so much. With each lift, I grew more tired and weaker. I left the stretching room to get water twice, and I had to take a few breaks, even though the trainer wanted me to keep my heart rate up and keep going. I didn't want to be a wimp. Really, I didn't. But I told him I felt faint and sick to my stomach. So in the middle of crunches, during a self-imposed pause, the trainer deemed our session over.

I lasted less than 20 minutes. I may be a runner, but I've never experienced true conditioning in my life.

My fitness assessment ended with a sales pitch, as I knew it would. My trainer, who was accompanied by the general training manager, because I was the trainer's first client (lucky me), recommended I sign up for a year's worth of training sessions, which cost $40 each, and participate in three sessions a week. That adds up to thousands of dollars a year.

I told them that I could not, in good conscience, sign up for training sessions since neither I nor my husband have jobs. Their faces fell. But I promised them I wouldn't close the door on training and would consider it when I'm employed. I meant it. As much as I wanted to throw up on my trainer today, I would love for him to kick my butt again.** But maybe only once a week. Because, who are we kidding, thousands of dollars a year spent on someone who watches me lift weights? I'm not a Real Housewife of Orange County. I'm a Real Housewife of a Kellogg student, and resources (err...income) are limited these days.

After leaving the gym, I treated myself to a latte and called it a day. Tomorrow I will run, but I will give my arms and abs and butt a rest.

*The sole female trainer, Sarah, at the gym followed me inside the women's locker room and asked me what I had eaten for breakfast. She was in the stretching room during part of my assessment. I knew I would run before meeting with the trainer, so I only ate a banana with a little peanut butter. My stomach can't handle much before short runs. And even before a marathon, I stick to one slice of toast with peanut butter and a banana. Sarah told me that I should eat something hearty like oatmeal before intense conditioning and that I could run afterward. That way, I would burn more calories and put more distance between a hearty breakfast and my run. She added that the newbie trainer should have asked me what I had eaten for breakfast and that you can't work through feeling faint. I am thankful for Sarah's advice. Until she approached me, I really thought I was being a wimp during the assessment, that I wasn't sick at all and that it was all in my head.

**My trainer said that if I see him at the gym and he looks bored that I can ask him to help me out with conditioning. I wanted to ask, "And how much does that cost?" Rather, I just smiled and left.

Beef magnet.

I love to run, as you've probably deduced from reading this blog. I run outdoors throughout the year as long as the wind chill doesn't dip below zero. In the winter, though, I'm in the gym more than I'm outside.

I like the gym. Being around people who care about fitness motivates me. And I always feel a sense of pride stepping out of the gym. It's like, "Look at me. I work out. I am cool. Praise me."

Put me on the treadmill, and I'm comfortable. I belong there because I'm a runner -- for only three miles, maybe four if I'm feeling good, because I think the treadmill is the belt of hell. It's a necessity in the winter and so I withstand those three or four miles knowing I could run farther and longer outside but it's dark and cold and unsafe so the treadmill will just have to do.

Lead me to a weight room, and I am intimidated. I look around to make sure know one is watching me. Usually if there are too many men around, I don't even bother. When I'm brave, I work my biceps and triceps as quickly as possible and then go to my safe place -- a mat for crunches or to the locker room.

I have been brave three times in the last week. I've worked my Olive Oyl arms and haven't given a flip about the bodybuilders grunting next to me. They apparently care about me. I've been approached three times in the last week by two beefy male strangers and one not-so-beefy stranger.

Beefy man #1 teased me about wearing a tank and showing off my arms while doing bicep curls with 10-pound weights. I'm typically slow with comebacks and had no response. My sister told me I should have asked him if he needed a spotter. Next time, sister. Next time.

Beefy man #2 told me that I should try lifting heavier weights. He told me to try the 15-pounders and to take it slowly. So I tried the 15-pounders -- a first for me -- and quite enjoyed the slow burn. I thanked that man.

Today, not-so-beefy stranger #3 approached me mid-lift. He asked me what I was doing. What I wanted to say: "What does it look like macho man?" What I actually said: "Uh, I don't know." He asked me how I learned to lift and what my routine included. I told him that I didn't do much. In my defense, I added that I was a runner and not just any kind of runner, but a marathoner. I also told him that I didn't know my way around the gym yet because I hadn't been treated to my complimentary fitness assessment.

Well, today was my lucky day. Turns out not-so-beefy stranger #3 is a personal trainer employed by the gym. He recently started working there, and he is happy to give me a fitness assessment. So tomorrow at 11 a.m., I will meet with the newbie personal trainer to go over my goals and learn a few "routines."

This, I hope, will put an end to the unsolicited "help" from the many men at the gym.

Convenient cooking.

Last week, I made what I would call convenience-style pulled pork. I give it the "convenience" title because all of the ingredients, with the exception of the pork, can be picked up at the market on the corner, or a nice gas station.

This is a good recipe to file if:
--You have kids.
--The culinary arts challenge you.
--You like meat. And lots of it.
--You are darn busy, and cooking isn't high on your priority list.

Convenience-style Pulled Pork

Ingredients:
--2 lbs pork tenderloin
--1 12 oz. can or bottle of root beer
--1 18 oz. bottle of barbecue sauce

1. Place pork in a slow cooker; pour root beer over meat. Cover and cook on low until pork shreds easily, between 6 and 8 hours. Drain. Add barbecue sauce. Mix well. Serve on bun with desired fixings.

Source: allrecipes.com

For the original recipe, click here.

Baby, it's cold outside. So let's bake.

This is the first year I've done serious holiday baking, and I'm seeing the effect on the scale in rising numbers. I run four to six days a week, and it's not helping.

I will happily part with some of the goodies tonight at a cookie exchange party my friend is hosting. But I know that I will come home with goodies as well. It's an exchange, after all.

For those of you who will see me when I go home to Minnesota for Christmas, expect to receive baked goods. Unless I've eaten them all. If that happens, you can expect me to ask you to join me for a run.

Here are a few looks at what I made for the cookie exchange. They're "healthy" ginger snaps. For the recipe, click here.

I wear a size 8. Unless it's a running shoe. Then I wear a size 9. Sometimes I'm an 8 1/2.

After six weeks of bliss -- surrounding myself with a dozen women who are smart and full of interesting life experiences and who have a passion to write and learn about the craft; learning from an instructor who is quick with an inspiring quote, literary reference or insightful comment and who, I believe, could have a career as a therapist; and writing my first personal essay in years -- my writing seminar is over.

It's hard to write about writing, and equally difficult, in my experience, to write about a writing class.

I won't write a long, winding post about the seminar. Instead, I will leave you with a few quotes from class that make me want to be better.

Topics are everywhere. They're like shoes; you just have to see what fits. -- Classmate

Listen with the ear of the heart. -- St. Benedict

If I can't find some kind of take-home message in my experience, I set (the essay) aside until I do. -- Katheryn Lay

Everyone has experiences; we as writers must make something of them, in both language and idea. -- Stephen Corey

I am a writer by determination rather than natural talent. -- Ernest Hemingway

Amen.

Losing streak.

Like in life, you win some and you lose some in the kitchen. Today, I'm on a losing streak.

It started during my trip to the grocery store to pick up my list of baking ingredients. I couldn't find molasses in the baking aisle. It was out of stock there, but there were small jars of molasses in the kosher section. I brought the molasses home, excited to make my first ever ginger snaps, only to consult my recipe and learn that I needed a cup. The jar contains only seven tablespoons. It takes 16 tablespoons to equal one cup (I didn't know this offhand; I had to look it up.).

I decided the ginger snaps could wait until tomorrow and that I would embark on the project of making sugar cookie cutouts with frosting, as well as almond bark dipped pretzels. The cutouts were easy enough, and the dough is resting in the fridge for a few hours. The process of melting the bark and dipping the pretzels went well, too. Until it didn't.


I thought red sprinkles added nice holidazzle. But I wanted to be bold. So with my recently purchased food coloring, I added a few drops of green dye to the almond bark. Umm, yeah, if you want to trash your almond bark, this is the way to do it. The dye thickened the bark so that it would no longer coat the pretzels. (As I type this, Ben is digging into my already small supply of dipped pretzels. I didn't think he liked vanilla almond bark.)



I'm headed to a different grocery store for more vanilla and chocolate almond bark. And a big-butt jar of molasses. Plus ingredients for Ben's fancy toffee. And maybe some sanity. I wonder what aisle it's in.

The Cookie Exchange.

***I hope Indie has a forgiving heart. Poor guy is very sensitive to sound and hated, if you couldn't tell by the photo, wearing the antlers.

Happy holidays!

I am going over the list of holiday goodies I plan to bake this week while listening to Christmas music -- how appropriate -- and this is what I have come up with:

--almond bark dipped pretzels
--ginger snaps
--sugar cutouts
--another batch of caramels (maybe next week)

A normal person might think this is plenty of baking. But I have significant free time being unemployed, and I'd like to take advantage of my sorry state. I might not get such precious free time for baking again in the near future.

I've signed up for various cookie countdowns for inspiration. If you'd like to be similarly inspired, go here and here.

Caramels, part II

A few warnings on caramel-making:

1. Give caramels to friends and family as quickly as possible. Otherwise, you may find yourself walking to the fridge a few times in the morning, afternoon and evening to eat a handful. This could be hazardous to your waistline come your holiday party.

2. Once you store the caramels in a cool place, keep them there. They get ultra gooey and sticky and become difficult to unwrap in room temperature.

3. These buggers can sometimes be difficult to unwrap no matter the temperature. I blame this on my poor wrapping skills (I used wax paper). If you've made caramels before and are an expert wrapper (Anna, not rapper), please leave a note with your advice in the comments section.

The holiday baking is underway!

Look at you Ms. Martha Stewart. -- Friend

Since getting married two years ago, I've hosted an annual baking fest with friends. We all bake a few dozen cookies or treats and share them with each other. This year, I'm not hosting such an event. My kitchen is too small. I may be going it alone, but I'm ramping up this year's baking efforts and I'm spreading my baking throughout the month of December so I don't get burned out in one weekend.

The holiday baking commenced yesterday evening with caramels. I have fond, fond memories of these homemade caramels. I attended a private Catholic elementary school, and every December we'd have a program called Advent Angels. We picked a classmate's name out of a hat, and for four weeks, we were his/her Advent Angel. We occasionally brought goodies like candy and cards and maybe even a note. Usually on the last day before Christmas break, we revealed ourselves as Advent Angels and gave a bigger gift of $5 to $10. I recall my sixth grade year when I got lots and lots of homemade caramels, and I fell in love with them. I love the gooey goodness and sweetness of them. I continue to find them at holiday parties and cookie exchanges. But they've always had an air of mystery for me. Like how does one make these caramels? And can someone like me, a mortal, make them?

Well, I apparently can. I whipped up a batch last night. Cooking the caramels was easy. It was cutting and wrapping them that took me almost two hours. Two hours. But they were well worth it. I have a container full of caramels in the fridge, keeping cool. I plan to give them away as gifts (I recommend others on a budget do the same) in cute containers and take the rest home for Christmas. And you can do the same. Here's the recipe:

Melt in the Mouth Caramels

Makes about 2 1/2 pounds

1 cup butter or margarine
1 pound brown sugar (equals about 2 1/4 cups)
Dash salt
1 cup light corn syrup
1 14oz can of sweetened condensed milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Melt butter in a heavy saucepan. Add brown sugar and salt. Stir until thoroughly combined. Stir in corn syrup and mix well. Gradually add milk, stirring constantly.

Cook and stir over medium heat until candy reaches firm ball stage or 245 degrees on candy thermometer. Stir for about 12 to 15 min.

Remove from heat, stir in vanilla. Pour into a buttered 9 inch square pan. Cool (for about two hours) and cut into squares.

Recipe from a 1974 cookbook