Eat Drink Run Woman

I’ve never been much of a girly-girl, and as I’ve gotten older I’m less so. Sure, I like to look cute, but I just can’t be bothered with all the rigmarole. Rarely do I wear makeup, and I often go months without getting my hair trimmed. After all, when I cook I just slick my hair back into a ponytail and place a chef’s skullcap on top (I don’t think my clients would appreciate my hair in their food).

Mind you, when I do eventually get my hair cut and colored, I absolutely love it and wonder why I didn’t do so sooner. But inevitably several more months go by before I make another appointment (although given all the compliments I’ve received on my recent haircut, I think I’ll be visiting my hair stylist much more frequently).

Then there’s clothes shopping. UGH! I just can’t be bothered. However, my weight loss over the past two years has made shopping a necessary evil (yes, it’s a nice problem to have). I’m pretty much set for my winter clothes, but now that spring is here it’s time for a few more. Plus we have our France trip coming up, so my wardrobe needs to be classed up a bit. I just don’t think jeans and my Curious George, Spongebob Squarepants or Blinky the Eyelash Mite t-shirts are going to cut it in Paris. But I just detest the whole clothes-shopping experience.

As a tall woman, trying to find clothes that fit well has been a life-long hassle. During my teen years, if it weren’t for men’s Levis I’d be walking around in high-waters. (The men’s Levis came in different inseams, whereas the women’s jeans just came in a standard inseam). On the rare occasion I found women’s jeans or slacks that were long enough, I didn’t care how much I paid; they were MINE! These days it’s a bit easier finding longer pants, but I still often have to shop online to find them.

The other thing I hate about shopping is the sales clerks. Sure, they try to be helpful — “Is there anything I can help you find?” — but the problem is I rarely know WHAT I’m looking for. I’ll know it when I see it. I doubt if I were to say, “Yes, I’m looking for shoes/pants/tops/shorts/what-have-you that are cute, fit me well, don’t cost too much, are in a color I like, or in a color I don’t normally buy but once I try it on I see how flattering it is, are well made and aren’t too trendy. What do you have?” they’d know how to answer. So I just say, “No thanks, I’m just browsing.”

I also hate the whole clothes-trying-on ordeal. Inevitably I have to try on all sorts of sizes, so I end up sweaty with staticky hair. Plus, nothing makes me feel fatter or dumpier than the mirrors and lighting in a dressing room. And what’s up with those rooms with half doors? I’m tall, people! I don’t want to be showing the entire world my jumblies when I’m trying on tops. That’s probably why I end up with a lot of clothes from Costco. I just throw the item into my cart (sometimes in a couple of different sizes), try it on at home in front of MY mirror under MY lighting. If it doesn’t fit I just take it back and spend the money on a bag of peanut butter-filled pretzels. Easy peasy.

So, where I’m I going with this rant?

(more…)

You start with a capital “b,” end with a lowercase “y,” and add the letters “e,” “t” and “s” (in that order) in the middle.

A 6ish mile run was on the docket today; it was to be a solo run given my darling is still easing into running. I had considered another neighborhood run, but decided to get a change of scenery and head to Seward Park, where I’d start with a 2-mile loop around the park, then head along Lake Washington Blvd. and back for another 4+ miles. Although cloudy, the day promised to provide enough sun breaks to make the run thoroughly enjoyable.

My day started as usual — lollygagging on the couch reading through food and fitness blogs, figuring out what tunes to plug into my iPod, eating a hearty bowl of steelcut oats with a couple of bananas. I was particularly psyched to get a copy of AC/DCs “Thunderstruck” from my darling as I thought it would be a perfect starting song (my other favorite is the live version of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman,” but I didn’t want to overplay it for fear I’d get bored). I also threw in some B-52s (“Rock Lobster,” “My Own Private Idaho”) and the Sugar Hill Gang’s “Rapster’s Delight” for good measure. Not only was I looking forward to a new mix of music, I was eager to try out my new iPod armband (it’s getting where long shirts and coats with pockets will be much too hot).

I threw some money, my ID, cell phone and a mango Clif Shot into my wallet/water belt and was on my way. Halfway there I realized I had forgotten my watch; oh well, I can just use the stopwatch on my iPod. Besides, I wasn’t running for time today; I just wanted to get a good workout (running steady the entire time; no walk breaks).

By the time I arrived at the park most of the parking spots were taken (the day was getting increasingly nicer), but fortunately I found one. Stopped at the potties for one final pee break and then got my gear on. I started the stopwatch, and then hit my running playlist. No AC/DC. Hmmmm. I turned up the volume, but still nothing.

(big sigh)

I can’t believe I’m about to admit this:

It was then I realized I DIDN’T HAVE MY EARBUDS IN.

In fact, they weren’t even plugged into my iPod.

Even worse, they were sitting in my purse on the kitchen counter at home. D’OH!

Perhaps what they say about blondes is true.

sigh

I’m FINALLY back in the game! Other than for a couple of coughs now and then, it seems the cold has left my body. Yesterday I started the day with an hour-long session of arm weights and physical therapy exercises, followed by the half-hour ab lab with Perky Polly (I actually was quite perky myself). My cookdate went a bit long yesterday, and since the wind had picked up considerably I decided to put my run off until today.

It’s an absolute glorious morning. The sky is clear and blue, the smell of apple blossoms permeates the air and there’s little to no wind. The best part? I got to run with my darling, who, after taking 5 weeks off from running due to a possible stress fracture in his foot, is now easing his way back in. Even better, he decided that if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em (he’s a total addict now).

I think my IT band even got in on the fun (I’m sure taking several days off due to sickness probably helped).

6 p.m. update — it’s turned into a beautiful afternoon as well. I just got back from my physical therapy appointment and she says I’m done! She still recommends doing my exercises twice a week to maintain the strength, but fortunately they’re no longer a daily routine. Woo hoo!

I’m a total wuss when it comes to catching a cold. I dread the moment I feel the tell-tale scratch at the back of my throat, ‘cuz I know what’s coming: three days — at the very least — of achy muscles, pounding headache, sniffles and overall yuckiness. It came on hard and fast Thursday night, and even with two solid days of couch rest, I was still feeling peaked yesterday. I mustered up the strength to do my physical therapy exercises, but my 6-mile run was out of the question.

Normally I would have spent another day as a couch potato, but Easter festivities beckoned. You’d think given my diminished state I’d take good care of myself, but NOOOOOO. I languished too long over the cheese platter; quaffed far too many glasses of wine; gobbled up gads of cheesy potato casserole, brisket and ham; and devoured a large slice of Devil’s Food cake. Oy!

I had hoped to get home early and go straight to bed, but due to a carpooling snafu my darling and I had to take his grandmother home — a trip that took us an hour and a half out of our way. By the time I hit the sheets I was Ms. Grumpypants, and a sleepless night didn’t help matters. I awoke slightly hung-over and still suffering from my cold. But since I hadn’t worked out in days, I drug my sorry butt to the gym for my cardio class.

(more…)

I hade diss tibe of year. sniffle

Jus’ wen I gedd modivated again to wurg oud, I kedge a code. sniffle

No energy ‘cept to lay on da coudch. sniffle

(I dink my IT band and my sinuses are in cahoodts). sniffle

Habby Easder!

I’m hoping all you faithful fans of Ovens to Betsy (all five of you) will enjoy my new blog devoted entirely to my fitness shenanigans: Eat Drink Run Woman (a play on one of my favorite foodie films, Eat Drink Man Woman by Ang Lee). Ovens to Betsy will continue as my food blog, and there’ll most likely be some crossover posts.

Why the change? While it made sense to me to intertwine my passions — food and fitness — I realize there were disparate audiences. Those of you who enjoy my posts on running & fitness don’t necessarily care about my culinary creations, and those who come for recipes and cooking techniques may not give a rat’s ass about my finish time for the Mercer Island half marathon (but just in case, it was 2 hours, 9 minutes, 35 seconds) 🙂

So sit back, grab a cup of coffee (or a bottle of your favorite sports drink) and enjoy my latest foray into the world of blogging.