Hello, this is Harold

Harold just called. Who is Harold? Harold is the guy I left a message for 3 weeks ago. And apparently he took his sweet ass time calling back.

Harold is a CTE certified personal trainer at Wolfgang's gym. "I just got this message," he says, "I look forward to meeting you and offering any information that can help you with your marathon training."

Harold, I can probably guess the first tip you would give me: "Get up off your butt and run a mile."

Good lord of thunder thighs...Is it fair for a vegetarian to have cellulite? Shouldn't that be reserved for people who scarf fried chicken and T-Bone steaks?

But these chubby cheeks arn't a sign of physical fitness, even though once upon a time I was capable of running a 10k.


I am learning something about myself. I fear letting go. But once I do I realize that I don't miss what I let go if I rearrange my habits to fill that void that is left behind. Take myspace...I thought I would miss myspace like my left arm. But then I started this blog and I found dozens of new friends and worthwhile blogs to read. It was as if by letting go of my dependency I opened up a door to room full of miracles. Now I must remember this, when I make my next drastic cut from the negative parts of my life.

Because shouldn't our focus be making ourselves and our friends happy during this short life?

Shouldn't I swallow the pill that Harold took 3 weeks to call me back, and find hope in his reassuring kind, confident voice?

Shouldn't I stop hating all men? Shouldn't I stop hating my body, and ruing the fact that I don't have my sister's body type?

Ugh but getting off the chair to run a mile, can I really muster up the energy to do that?

Can I let go of my lazy Sunday mornings in exchange for a hard core 10 mile run through a humid downtown street? Can I give up my grilled cheese in exchange for celery and asparagus? Can I really be expected to wake up at 4:30am in order to make this dream of finishing a half marathon a reality for me?

Number 18,861

Saturday I ran the 10K! I came in 18,861st place. I did it! Woohoo. I rock.

I ran most of it. It poured rain. I became a bit emotional at the finish line. It’s the farthest I’ve ever run. 6.2 miles. 10k. I’m thrilled! After the race I walked a mile and half to my car, so lets call that 8 miles total. Then I passed out on the couch and woke up two days later. :)

I trained for 3 months and now I am never running again. Haha just kidding. Training for the 1/2 marathon in November...that’s 13 miles kids. Who’s with me?

You are my Heroine

As with most scheduled activities, I was 5 minutes late to my yoga class this morning. But I made it, breathless as the class was beginning pranayama exercises. I have to admit I haven't been to yoga for maybe 8 months, and saying I was "rusty" is a dramatic understatement. Into the second down dog my wrist were shaking, and my back was saying "hey lady, if you want me to stretch out, then those legs down there are gonna have to stretch first". The triangle pose required me to hold my arms straight out from my sides for 10, maybe 20 minutes, leaving them feeling lifeless, like I'd been balancing a barrell of whiskey on the left, and basket of wet grapes on the right. I was so grateful when the instructor turned down the lights for savasana, I nearly started clapping. I laid there, in my corpse pose, staring at the white ceiling fan, and it occurred to me, I have never "cleared" my mind, even though the train of yoga instructors encouraged me to "be in the present". I think it's kinda funny for someone to say "don't think about anything" because I immediately start thinking about how I am not supposed to be thinking about how Payton needs a new pair of jeans, and I need to stop by the market and pick up sweet potatoes on my way home, and how this or that is such a disaster right now, and how I absolutely can not forget my therapy appointment at 12:30 today. Basically, it's an elephant in the yoga studio and the instructor is saying "yes I know its an elephant, and the elephant is stepping on your feet, and it's tail is tickling your nose, but DON'T pay attention to that elephant". Um, yeah, okay.

After yoga, I drove over to Ellwood Thompson Natural Market. Three years ago I would take Payton to a kid yoga in Carytown. While she stretched into the caterpillar and the iguana poses, I would browse the stalls of Ellwood Thompsons for the freshest organic fruit available that day. She would run out of the studio saying "What fruit today?!" And then smile her very Payton smile, a smile which stretches across her face lining up directly under her doughy gleeful eyes, and she would grab the nectarine or bunch of grapes from the bag and munch on her treasure during the drive home, stretched, relaxed, and healthful.

So I was in Elwood Thompson's this morning, adoring the ripe strawberries and golden pears, all natural, all organic, all very very expensive. In a market like this, with fresh locally grown produce, my relationship with food becomes sensual. I looked at each bit of produce like a jewel, like a gift which I glorify myself to be worthy of consuming. I held them like I would my favorite wine glass, with care and adoration. And I placed them gently into my brown sack, choosing only what I need to make Butternut Squash and Pear Soup for dinner. 1 sweet potato. 1 butternut squash. 2 pears. 1 red pepper. 1 onion. A small can of coconut milk. A container of earth balance. Oh, and a slice of vegan zucchini bread as my own personal treat to enjoy on the ride home.

So I made it home. Chris gawked a bit at the $15 bill for food to make yet another vegan dinner. His patience is wearing, though this meal will feed us for 2, maybe 3 meals. Payton and Chloe wanted to make chocolate chip cookies, so I employed their help in the kitchen cleaning, decluttering, and then finally the baking. Below is proof of our endeavor. I discovered a new faux-egg mixture, a powder that combines with water to have the same congealing properties of real eggs. Payton's friend came over and we served the kids chocolate chip cookies with soy milk, but they weren't fooled, and the soy milk was quickly exchanged for regular old skim milk.