Winter arrived last Sunday, a day that started cautiously sunny but quickly whipped up a cold wind and a sleety, snowy precip. After a quick run and a few timely chores (disconnecting and draining the hose, uprooting and drying the pepper plants) we dove into the house and spent the day reading and being cozy. Husband retired for a nap around 4, and when he still hadn't risen at 6:15 I started calling up gently to him from my perch in front of fire. When that didn't work I progressed to the stairs. He came down a few minutes later wearing his robe.
"You going to take a shower?" I asked, confused, as he'd taken one that morning.
"I was thinking about it," he said defensively.
He stood there aimlessly for awhile, looking at the fire and me and the cats, before confessing that he had thought it was Monday morning.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tea
Is Tea Forte better than other teas, or it is just the experience that makes it so good? Taking a careful sip from the steaming cup, I decided it doesn't matter.
Orange pekoe + autumn sky
September/October Book List
September/October books
How to be useful: A beginner's guide to not hating work by Megan Hustad. Not just useful, but actually enjoyable to read. It was so good I took notes. Hustad's target audience is recent grads who work in offices, but I found her advice a much-needed reminder for the getting-complacent late 20s/early 30s, and even helpful in thinking about how to manage others.
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. Unapologetically dark, this novel about a orphan and a town in WWII Germany feels like an accurate portrayal about what it might have been like. Rich, deep, and oddly shelved in the young adult section.
When You are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris (audiobook). I loved some of these essays and skipped over a lot on the first few discs... in particular I liked the last third best, especially the three-part essay on how he quit smoking that takes place in Japan.
What I Talk About When I Talk About Running - Haruki Murakami. I love Murakami and I love running... and I think you need to have an affection for both to like this book--it's pretty niche. But if you're in that niche it's great.
Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson.
How to be useful: A beginner's guide to not hating work by Megan Hustad. Not just useful, but actually enjoyable to read. It was so good I took notes. Hustad's target audience is recent grads who work in offices, but I found her advice a much-needed reminder for the getting-complacent late 20s/early 30s, and even helpful in thinking about how to manage others.
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. Unapologetically dark, this novel about a orphan and a town in WWII Germany feels like an accurate portrayal about what it might have been like. Rich, deep, and oddly shelved in the young adult section.
When You are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris (audiobook). I loved some of these essays and skipped over a lot on the first few discs... in particular I liked the last third best, especially the three-part essay on how he quit smoking that takes place in Japan.
What I Talk About When I Talk About Running - Haruki Murakami. I love Murakami and I love running... and I think you need to have an affection for both to like this book--it's pretty niche. But if you're in that niche it's great.
Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Political pie
I post this tonight with a heavy heart... after a day spent reading terrible stories about racism and hatred in the upcoming political election, and even worse, receiving an email from a beloved relative espousing all that bigotry and lies, I want to steer clear of anything remotely related to politics so I don't risk offending anyone how I've been offended today. Yet this post was supposed to be so innocuous, so light-hearted, that I'm going to go with it anyway.
I wanted to share with you a recipe that Husband and I came up with during the primary elections. This dish is so named not because it's a commentary on his character, personality, or values, but rather because it's hour-plus baking time lets you stick it in the oven, go and vote, and return to have dinner ready. I thought I'd share it with you in case you wanted to make it election night or to try it beforehand just to wish your candidate luck.
Obama Pie (or, in the spirit of bipartisanship, you may call it McCain pie if you like)
Adapted from Byerly's
Note: this recipe requires thawing in advance
2 T olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped
2 14-oz packages frozen chopped spinach, thawed and well drained
4 large eggs, beaten
8 oz. feta cheese
1/3 cup toasted pine nuts (in oven, single layer, while oven in preheating, 5-7 minutes)
1.5 t salt
4 T butter, melted
8 sheets frozen phyllo dough, thawed
1. Preheat oven to 375.
2. Heat oil in skillet, saute onion until soft, 3-4 minutes. In a large mixing bowl, mix onion with spinach, eggs, feta, pine nuts, and salt.
3. Brush a 9-inch glass or ceramic pie plate with some of the melted butter. Place a sheet of phyllo dough over the plate, letting the ends overlap the side, and butter the top of the sheet. Add three more sheets, buttering in between, then spoon spinach filling into center of pie plate. Top with remaining four sheets, buttering in between and on top of the last one. Tuck in ends of phyllo dough.
4. Bake until browned all over, anywhere from 50 to 1 hour 15 minutes. Let cool 10 minutes before slicing.
Enjoy with a sense of satisfaction for having contributed to the nation's electoral process.
I wanted to share with you a recipe that Husband and I came up with during the primary elections. This dish is so named not because it's a commentary on his character, personality, or values, but rather because it's hour-plus baking time lets you stick it in the oven, go and vote, and return to have dinner ready. I thought I'd share it with you in case you wanted to make it election night or to try it beforehand just to wish your candidate luck.
Obama Pie (or, in the spirit of bipartisanship, you may call it McCain pie if you like)
Adapted from Byerly's
Note: this recipe requires thawing in advance
2 T olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped
2 14-oz packages frozen chopped spinach, thawed and well drained
4 large eggs, beaten
8 oz. feta cheese
1/3 cup toasted pine nuts (in oven, single layer, while oven in preheating, 5-7 minutes)
1.5 t salt
4 T butter, melted
8 sheets frozen phyllo dough, thawed
1. Preheat oven to 375.
2. Heat oil in skillet, saute onion until soft, 3-4 minutes. In a large mixing bowl, mix onion with spinach, eggs, feta, pine nuts, and salt.
3. Brush a 9-inch glass or ceramic pie plate with some of the melted butter. Place a sheet of phyllo dough over the plate, letting the ends overlap the side, and butter the top of the sheet. Add three more sheets, buttering in between, then spoon spinach filling into center of pie plate. Top with remaining four sheets, buttering in between and on top of the last one. Tuck in ends of phyllo dough.
4. Bake until browned all over, anywhere from 50 to 1 hour 15 minutes. Let cool 10 minutes before slicing.
Enjoy with a sense of satisfaction for having contributed to the nation's electoral process.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Marathon #8 - TCM 2
I don't think I've fully conveyed the mental anxiety that marathon running induces. I was reminded of it while reading Haruki Murakami's What I talk about when I talk about running. An extremely experienced marathoner, Murakami recounts training really well for a recent race and then tanking near the end. For his next race, he trains more moderately and approaches it in a low-stress whatever-happens mentality, and tanks again.
So in the week leading up to a race I simultaneously fret that I've overtrained (done too many 22+ runs and worn my legs down to shreds) and that I've undertrained (why haven't I pushed myself more on long runs?). I worry that I'll go for too fast of a time and crash in a fantastic heap of hubris, or that I'll go too slow and sell myself short. The only thing that really keeps me sane is having a group of people that I run with and therefore can compare myself to so I have some idea of where I should be.
And so there I was last week at the starting line of the Twin Cities Marathon with my group, distrustful of the cool (45 degree) forecast in our sleeveless shirts, with long socks on our arms to stave off the chill. I never dreamed I'd be wearing those socks until mile 16, but at mile 2 the sky opened up and it rained for the first half of the race. In a crashing downpour we ran around Lake Calhoun and Harriet, a steaming half-naked mass churning through the flooded streets. All I could do was laugh and whoop at the the ridiculousness of it all, and be thankful for the cool weather.
Ever since I crashed last year I've paid a bit more attention to how the weather influences your running ability... Jeff Galloway has a little chart that I've shared with my training groups:
Adjusting Race Pace for Heat:
Estimated temperature at finish - Slower than goal pace - 8 min mile becomes...
55-60 degrees - 1% - 8:05
60-65 degrees - 3% - 8:15
65-70 degrees - 5% - 8:25
70-75 degrees - 7% - 8:35
75-80 degrees - 12% - 8:58
80-85 degrees - 20% - 9:35
Above 85 degrees - Forget it... run for fun
It's a little extreme, but the point is clear: you have a lot better chance of making a good time if it's cooler. So when I realized that we finally had a chance at the elusive 50-degree marathon, I let my goal time creep up a bit and got comfortable with the idea of starting out faster than usual.
After mile 19 we crossed the Mississippi and dug in for the grudge of the last 6+ miles. With much beloved running buddies SJ and AP by my side (making it a little Grandma's reunion), we pulled each other along the river, up the hills and on to Summit Avenue. Miles 23 and 24 were tough, and I had to dig deep... Summit feels never ending and unrelentingly uphill... and seeing how close to the end I got last year was just heartbreaking.
I walked up the last hill around Dale and found myself made a personal mission by a group of crazed spectators... they walked along with me cheering like maniacs and erupted into hysteria when I took off running and didn't look back (thanks guys! whoever you are!). I turned the corner at mile 25 and enjoyed the steady decline of the last mile... running it in to the finish, leaving everything on the course.
I was elated to see the time (4:02! Ten minutes off my PR!) but too spent for tears this time. The relief of stopping running is so amazing... it is the best feeling in the world.
I'm really proud of my time... nervous about replicating it, and conscious that my next goal is clearly the much sought after "sub-4." But for now there is the blessed relief from long-run training and a chance to work on some other running goals over the winter... and to do some non-running things as well! like sewing and baking.
So in the week leading up to a race I simultaneously fret that I've overtrained (done too many 22+ runs and worn my legs down to shreds) and that I've undertrained (why haven't I pushed myself more on long runs?). I worry that I'll go for too fast of a time and crash in a fantastic heap of hubris, or that I'll go too slow and sell myself short. The only thing that really keeps me sane is having a group of people that I run with and therefore can compare myself to so I have some idea of where I should be.
And so there I was last week at the starting line of the Twin Cities Marathon with my group, distrustful of the cool (45 degree) forecast in our sleeveless shirts, with long socks on our arms to stave off the chill. I never dreamed I'd be wearing those socks until mile 16, but at mile 2 the sky opened up and it rained for the first half of the race. In a crashing downpour we ran around Lake Calhoun and Harriet, a steaming half-naked mass churning through the flooded streets. All I could do was laugh and whoop at the the ridiculousness of it all, and be thankful for the cool weather.
Ever since I crashed last year I've paid a bit more attention to how the weather influences your running ability... Jeff Galloway has a little chart that I've shared with my training groups:
Adjusting Race Pace for Heat:
Estimated temperature at finish - Slower than goal pace - 8 min mile becomes...
55-60 degrees - 1% - 8:05
60-65 degrees - 3% - 8:15
65-70 degrees - 5% - 8:25
70-75 degrees - 7% - 8:35
75-80 degrees - 12% - 8:58
80-85 degrees - 20% - 9:35
Above 85 degrees - Forget it... run for fun
It's a little extreme, but the point is clear: you have a lot better chance of making a good time if it's cooler. So when I realized that we finally had a chance at the elusive 50-degree marathon, I let my goal time creep up a bit and got comfortable with the idea of starting out faster than usual.
After mile 19 we crossed the Mississippi and dug in for the grudge of the last 6+ miles. With much beloved running buddies SJ and AP by my side (making it a little Grandma's reunion), we pulled each other along the river, up the hills and on to Summit Avenue. Miles 23 and 24 were tough, and I had to dig deep... Summit feels never ending and unrelentingly uphill... and seeing how close to the end I got last year was just heartbreaking.
I walked up the last hill around Dale and found myself made a personal mission by a group of crazed spectators... they walked along with me cheering like maniacs and erupted into hysteria when I took off running and didn't look back (thanks guys! whoever you are!). I turned the corner at mile 25 and enjoyed the steady decline of the last mile... running it in to the finish, leaving everything on the course.
I was elated to see the time (4:02! Ten minutes off my PR!) but too spent for tears this time. The relief of stopping running is so amazing... it is the best feeling in the world.
I'm really proud of my time... nervous about replicating it, and conscious that my next goal is clearly the much sought after "sub-4." But for now there is the blessed relief from long-run training and a chance to work on some other running goals over the winter... and to do some non-running things as well! like sewing and baking.
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