Now Norma Knits

Now She Runs?

(This is a long one. You might want to go pee first, and get a cup of whatever it is you like to drink.)

So let's get this straight:  I am not a runner! 

And yet, somehow I have just completed my 2nd 5K since August 24. How the heck did that happen?!

Before the race on Saturday.

And after, posing with Amy (she's a knitter!), who I just met that day:

Much to my surprise, I had a not-embarrassing finish in each one. 

The trick is, I guess, if you are feeling great, you can do almost anything. 

After so many years of trying to be a runner, and giving up every time because of various aches, pains, injuries, I-HATE-TO-RUN-I-AM-NOT-A-RUNNER, whatever-whatever, this past summer I finally did something that I highly recommend to you if you have a history of Hating To Run the way I did:  I joined a running group and got some coaching. 

The gym that I love, Artemis Fitness in South Burlington, VT, started a summer running group, with the goal of training for either the 5K or the 10K run in the Green Mountain Athletic Association's Round Church Women's Run. They hired a wonderful coach, Kris Gleason, from Fleet Feet Burlington. Over time, a few more great coaches joined in, because our group had a variety of running levels and personal goals, and they helped us each in our own way. (AWESOME.)

I signed up for the Tuesday night running group, but "NUH-UH, NO WAY AM I GOING TO RUN THE ACTUAL RACE! I'm just mixing up my workout routine, thankyouverymuch!" 

And so I went to the first meeting, and that very first night, the coaching was worth its weight in gold. Life-changing, really. I'm not exaggerating one tiny bit. The dynamic warmups seriously changed my running life. 

So then we get to Thing No. 2: Shoes. That first night, and maybe the next one or two, I still had one of the many pairs of hundreds of dollars' worth of running shoes that I have bought over the years which were THE WRONG SHOES for me.

I had done my research, or so I thought. I had tried the minimalist shoes, thinking that was The Thing for me, but we might or might not all remember how that ended up. I'd tried all kinds of various neutral, highly cushioned shoes. Blech, blech, blech. Nothing worked for me. I-HATE-RUNNING-I'M-NOT-A-RUNNER.

So anyway, back to this summer and the running group. I finally listened to what people were saying and went to a proper running shoe store (not the mall variety), and got properly assessed and fitted, and contrary to all the crap I'd read on the internet and in magazines (you know the one), and having done self-assessments about my high arches, and etcetera and so forth, I was told that I needed a HIGH-STABILITY shoe. Well, damn. What a revelation. If I say "life-changing" again, will that be too repetitive? 

At this point, I need to back up. Now the numbering system in this post is going to get all out of whack, because BEFORE JOINING A RUNNING GROUP, here is what is even more important: As Kendra and Cate, the owners of my gym say, "People think they should run to get strong. But instead, you have to get strong in order to run."

Yes, yes, and yes. Say it with me: [chorus: life-changing!]. Strength training BEFORE running. Totally [chorus]

I celebrated my one-year anniversary with the gym by running our last 2.5 miles before the August race, in about 99 degrees F with my running group. We died from the heat, then went out for a celebratory dinner. Up to this point, we had never run a full 5K, or even that last 2.5 miles, without stopping. We had done run-walk intervals the entire time. Despite the training, I was unconvinced that I could run an entire 5K without stopping. I had had no proof that I could. 

One night, though, none of the other 5K-ers showed up, and I joined the 10K group. We run-walked 6 miles that night, and I didn't actually die. But it sort of felt like it. The gym is not far from K-Mart, so that was my landmark, and I will tell you, I was never so glad to see a K-Mart in my life. 

During the end-of-training-group celebratory dinner, I still believed in my head that I was not going to go to the race on that Saturday. I was going to just yes-yes everybody, and then crap out and simply not show up for the race, having some manufactured reason why not.

But instead, when Saturday morning came, I got up at nearly the crack of dawn so that I could eat, get ready, and drive the hour and a half to get to the race site by 7 a.m. After we had trained in high, high heat for the previous six weeks, it was ridiculously cold that morning, and I was not prepared with the proper clothing for that cold. Kris had an extra long-sleeve tech shirt in her car that she lent me to keep me from shivering too much before the race started. Still not convinced that I would make it through this thing, my only goal was to try to keep running for the whole thing. I did not believe I would be able to do that.  

I was able to make it to the halfway point without stopping. And a sometimes coach for the summer and a friend were running with me. At the turnaround point, there was a hill. I stopped to walk for a few seconds, and I lost ground from my friends. I tried hard to catch up to them again, but never could. I got exhausted, started to flag, and looked like I was going to start walking again. A wonderful stranger (a slightly older woman, but a more experienced runner) started talking to me, and she egged me on. She ran the rest of the race with me, and we made it! She encouraged me to kick it up for a strong finish in the last 50 yards or so. And damn. 

You can see the results here. In the overalls, look at #118, and in my age group (that would be 50-59) look at #14. For a confirmed NON-RUNNER, not too horrible at all! 

I was seriously holding back barfing on the guy who was cutting the chip off my shoe. And I do mean SERIOUSLY.HOLDING.BACK. I was retching, and thought, Ohmygod, this is going to be bad. But I didn't do it. MAYBETHEREISAGOD, I didn't throw up on him. My legs were shaky then, but I recovered fairly well:

But then, back to this past weekend. No problemo! No training, either, really, although I did run 5K last Tuesday at home. I did have that barfy feeling just after crossing the finish line, but no sea legs, and I had a reserve in me at the end. In retrospect, I now know that I could have run faster. But I ran just about at the same pace as last time, which was comfortable, and one of my goals in this thing is to run uninjured. I'm not out to prove anything major here.

The difference in this run was though the course was flat, it was somewhat difficult. We were running on loose gravel and/or wet grass for the first 2 miles, and then thank goodness, pavement for the last mile. If I were not in good overall condition, or if I had my old low-stability shoes, I could easily imagine a twisted ankle or knee or some such.

Amy and I ran together, and we kept each other going. We talked about knitting(!) and we were a great mini-team. For the bigger picture, I was a part of a small fundraising team that looked like this on race day:

Suzanne Somers and Richard Simmons

were valuable members of our team. Hee.

You can see the results of the race here, where you will see that I came in 283rd overall, and Amy was right behind me. Thanks so much to Kris G., who graciously invited me to join in the fun! I'm so glad I did. 

So now, I have mentioned the dietary changes I've made, and some people want details. It's quite simple, really: In an effort to determine what foods I might be allergic to, I am following an elimination diet.

Some ugly symptoms reared their ugly head like they did in late September 2011 and the coincidence was just too great. The timing was almost exactly at the same time of year (and thank GOODNESS for the blog, for being able to sleuth out the date), and the symptoms were exactly the same. I thought I was dying. And it turns out I almost was. Again. (Although I avoided a hospitalization this time.)

So I asked myself, "What is different about this time of year?!"

And I came up with the answer:

And my first reaction was:  PLEASE DON'T LET IT BE TOMATOES!!!! They are my favorite food in the whole wide world. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't let it be tomatoes. I want to DIE if I can't have tomatoes.

But hang on. 

I had thought I had leukemia or something.

So let's weigh this:

Possibly no more tomatoes   vs.   Leukemia

Or stroke. 

Or sudden death.

I'm pretty sure I can live with no more tomatoes.

But in any event, I got myself to a naturopathic physician, because let's face it -- no offense to all the doctors I adore -- but regular doctors are clueless. And the last time, once they ruled out that I had had a heart attack, they shrugged their collective shoulders and said, "Carry on. We don't know what it was. It may just be one of those things we'll never know."  And the cardiologist said, "I don't know what you had, but I know it wasn't your ticker." 

And then it was all like, "Call us the next time you almost die."

Helpful. 

And then last year I had a bad tomato crop, so I didn't eat as many. But this year it was a banner year again. And so there I was, right back where I was two years ago. And when I thought back, there were other episodes in my life that were very similar, one of which is when the doctors put me on a beta blocker.

I think the writing is on the wall here. 

So anyway. I am currently on what is known as an elimination diet. Many people seem to misunderstand me when I say that -- they think it is some sort of a cleanse, as in, I'm eliminating toxins from my body. Well, I am, for sure. But the term "elimination diet" has a different meaning. 

And that's what I've been doing for about a month now, and WHAT.A.DIFFERENCE. Can I hear another LIFE-CHANGING?!

All of my inflammation is GONE GONE GONE.  You know that chronic tendinitis? GONE. The painful, sticky fascia? Smooth and elastic again. The muscles that were hard and painful like rigor mortis? Soft and pliable again. It's like a frickin' miracle, I tell ya. [chorus! chorus!]

So much so that I can honestly say I ALMOST DON'T miss my favorite foods in the whole wide world, and I almost don't see a reason to go the next step in this regimen, which is to reintroduce the foods one at a time to see what effect each has on me. I'm doing so well, I really don't see any reason not to continue indefinitely on this path. 

In a nutshell, I am simply not consuming the following:

- nightshade vegetables (I believe this is the biggest culprit)

- dairy (this is a close second)

- wheat (this is tied for second) and most other grains except quinoa, gluten-free oats, and brown rice

- soy (not sure this is a factor, because I never consumed much soy except when I was a vegan and then I pretty much hated it, so it's dead to me anyway.)

- eggs (this one might or might not be an issue)

- chocolate (I think this is a problem for me. Kill me now -- except. Thinking I'm dying of leukemia? Or no chocolate. Yeah. I can live with it.)

- coffee (I actually wake UP when I get out of bed now, rather than needing an hour to sip my coffee before I begin to feel and act like a person. I do still consume some caffeine, in the form of green tea)

- corn

And I think there are more things on the verboten list, but I choose to focus on the "include" list:

- meats, poultry, fish (organic, grass fed, and uncured as much as possible)

- all vegetables except nightshades

- all fruits

- most nuts

- legumes 

- gluten-free oats, quinoa, rice

I feel 99% better. I would say 100, but I might have one more food that should be eliminated, because I have a new symptom:  a bothersome itchy scalp and a couple itchy, irritated places on my skin. I'm suspecting either coconut or a certain kind of nuts (perhaps cashews). My intention was to eliminate nuts and coconut from my diet starting today, but despite my best intentions, I ate both of those things. Maybe tomorrow.

Losing the nuts on top of everything else makes getting through the day a bit harder for me. Meal planning is not difficult as long as I have plenty of food in the house and as long as I'm home. Going out is a bit tricky, particularly since a) chefs LIE (they do!) and b) even at my healthiest fallback places to eat, just when I think, "I can eat that!" I read the ingredients and it has red pepper flakes in it, or paprika all over it. I definitely have reactions to those two things. So yeah. Pretty sure it's the nightshades. 

But still. I don't have leukemia, and I just rocked my second 5K.

I got this. 

And a parting shot to the regular M.D.s: I WISH YOU'D GET A FRICKIN' CLUE about this stuff. 

“Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food” 
― Hippocrates

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Starring For Dinner: Arugula, Roasted Beets, and Sauteed Beet Greens

I have been suffering from a headache and general malaise for the past couple of days, probably due to not enough good sleep lately, too much work stress, not enough exercise, and not drinking enough water. (Please don't tell the Conservatives about the water thing. They will blow a gasket.) Then again, go ahead and tell them. Let 'em blow ALL their stupid gaskets. We'd be better off for it. 

So one of the best cures I have for many of the above problems (except the Conservatives. That is a problem that is not at all within my power to solve) is to go work in my garden. And one of my favorite things to do is to go do the hard, dirty labor of compost bin maintenance -- or mothering, as I like to say. 

I have a wee problem with one of my compost bins: It's been taken over by a colony of bees. And they are awfully protective of the area. I'm not exactly sure what to do about this. So far they have flown at me, around me, and one even flew in my ear. (And if you don't think THAT scared me, then you have an unrealistically high opinion of my courage.)

Amazingly, none of them have stung me. Unfortunately, one HAS stung Mr. Jefferies. And the noise they are making at me is getting a bit louder and more aggressive. I am not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I'm not stupid. I'm getting the distinct impression that they are trying to tell me, "Woman, we have tolerated your bullshit digging and lid-lifting and walking-around and banging noises so far, but it's time to GET THE FUCK OUT OF OUR TERRITORY. OR ELSE."

So anyway, today I very gingerly worked in and around the other two bins (the fourth one has unfortunately fallen apart). I discovered that one was too terribly wet and anaerobic and smelly.

YAY! MY FAVORITE THING! 

(I mean it.)

(Yes, I might be a little bit not right in the head.)

I get to pull out the wet, foul-smelling gross stuff, and get all sweaty and muddy and aerate it and relayer it with some dry carboneceous materials -- today it was big old cardboard boxes (one that a refrigerator came in -- because I don't fool around) that I shredded by hand -- and a little bit of soil. And I pulled up a few half-dead tomato plants and bean plants and weeds, and added them to the mix, too. 

And while I was mothering the compost, I also happened to harvest the main players for tonight's dinner:

Beets, beet greens, and arugula

Of course, my steno-hands and -forearms are now killing me, because I'm very smart like that.

Also, the headache and body aches are not really that much better, but maybe they will get better in a little while -- maybe after I eat those wonderful things for dinner, even.  

 

Salsa Saturday

I am not an expert on salsa. Heck, I live in Vermont, where "south of the border" just sort of refers to those flatlanders in Massachusetts. I never even tried salsa, or anything Mexican, I don't think, until I was in my 20s. Things are different now up here in Siberia the Green Mountain State. We actually have a couple of local salsa-making companies, even, and we're all artisanal and multi-cultural and shit. But when I was growing up here we were so isolated from the rest of the world there was no such thing. 

I like salsa all right, but I don't love it, except on certain days. I probably wouldn't know truly good salsa if it hit me in the face.

And I don't consume very much of it. It's probably the food I buy that I feel the most guilty about, because it is also the food I probably waste the most of. I buy a jar when I get a hankering for it, which is not very often. I eat a few tablespoons -- or at best, half the container -- and then it gets pushed to the back of the fridge. I remove it several months later when I'm cleaning out the refrigerator and toss out the rest of the moldy mess that is left in the jar.

Of course it follows that I've also never made homemade salsa before (except for my own idea of a salsa fresca on occasion).  But today I did.

I used this recipe, and my own garden tomatoes and peppers. Meh, it's all right. Mine came out milder than I'd like it to be. I wish I'd been a little braver with the hot peppers. 

I put it up in little half-pint jars, which are more my size. 

My hope is that in little jars, it will have a better chance of getting eaten by humans and not become food for the worms.

 

 

 

The New King Arthur Flour Store/Cafe/Baking School -- Yeah, WOW, Man!

I'm long overdue for a Pee Place Post; am I right?  

So how fortunate for you! An early release from my work in Central Vermont today gave me all the excuse I needed to go and visit the new (still under construction, really) King Arthur Flour store.

I took some photos of the gorgeous place, of course starting in the most important room:  The pee place!

And, my friends, it is stunning!

Anyone who knows me well knows that this was the first and last place I went on my visit there. 

Next, I went to the cafe to get a sticky bun and cafe au lait, which I enjoyed at one of their lovely tables. You can see I wasn't kidding when I said it's still under construction. That yellow tape is not to indicate that it's a crime scene, but a construction site. 

Highly decadent, and worth every calorie, even if I gained a pound.

And then I went to the store. Baker's mecca! Even though I really held myself back on account of the fact that I just can't and don't bake that much anymore, I still managed to fill these two bags and spent enough to qualify for a free bag of self-rising flour.

I took the bags' photo there because I wanted to show you the beautiful stone wall along the outdoor table space.

The post-and-beam buildings are stately and strong, and reminiscent of Vermont maple sugar houses.

Lots of fabulous (local, I'm presuming) stone and wood throughout.

And look here: 

Copper downspouts.

Definitely worth a visit, even if you aren't a baker.

 

Two Posts in Two Days -- The Beginning of a Trend?

Cookie asked:  Yeah but did you eat at the diner? ;^)

Well, I'm glad you asked, Cookie. We sure did. We ate at the [old] Eveready Diner on Friday night, and I am sorry to report that everything was bad that night. Everything! If that had been the first time we had gone there, we never would have gone back. Thankfully, we had a long history of happy meals there, or we would not be able to forgive the cocktails that tasted like cough syrup and were spilling over the sides of the glasses. (Tip to makers of margaritas: If it's splashing over the side, the salt rim is washed away, and Norma, for one, is not happy -- even assuming that the drink was palatable otherwise, which it really wasn't.) In addition, that was my first taste of alcohol since being on these meds, and it really did not sit well, so that was my mistake.

The mac & cheese was at best uninspired (and we've had some really killer mac & cheese at that place in years past). The burgers were likewise rather tasteless and unimpressive.

We could not understand a word that came out of the mouth of the server. Correction: I, you will recall, am a professional listener. And so I had to translate everything he mumbled to my tablemates. Sandy just started saying, "Yeah," to everything he said, and I'd translate after he left. The whole night was just a bit of a disaster. 

It's not just that they were super-busy, because they have ALWAYS been super-busy all those many other times we've gone there and enjoyed great food, great service, great cocktails. It appears that they have sent all their good staff and good food over to the brand-spanking-new one that they built directly across from the fairgrounds.

That's me and Jenn walking in for breakfast at the new place.

It was fabulous.

All the same fixtures and decor and menu as the original, but so clean and new and shiny, with the same great food and wonderful service we've come to expect from the Eveready. 

Win! (With a caveat: We only ate breakfast there -- twice. So I can't report on lunch or dinner success or failure.)

We are hoping that our bad experience that Friday night was just a fluke.

Hey! That's two posts in two days! I have vowed to try to do better with the blog. It is so easy to get out of a good habit, isn't it? I've even saved up some content so I have more to blog about later. (Smart me.) 

 

Peeps The Way Nature Intended

As an Easter special cocktail garnish.

"The Peep" cocktail from Shore Acres in North Hero, Vermont:  Raspberry vodka, chambord, grenadine, champagne & Peep garnish. With an added secret ingredient, according to Mike, their excellent drink-slinger.

The rest of my meal was equally impressive:  mesclun salad with honey-lavender vinaigrette (omg, good!) and spinach-stuffed leg of lamb with some sort of amazing mashed potatoes and vegetables. The bread was amayyyyyyzinnnnnng. And for dessert, I had a really out-of-the-ordinary strawberry shortcake: lavender-and-honey marinated strawberries over a lemon-oat biscuit, with Starbucks coffee.

Zoinks. Good thing I had my run beforehand.

 

The Highly Unsophisticated Wine Buyer

When it comes to buying wine, I make no pretenses: I don't know what I'm doing. My number one priority is a cool label or a catchy name. Trailer Trash R Us, pretty much. 

 

I got so much mileage out of the little black dress I wore the other day, and this label says something on the back to the effect of "classic; goes with everything," just like the kind of LBD you wear, and it says it's from France, you know. So what could be bad? 

And the one about the goats... well. We're fiber people, right? And the name is a word play on Côtes du Rhône. That company also has a wine called Bored Doe. 

Don't judge me.

 

How To Get Through Tough Times

Surround yourself with wonderful people!

Carol and her family stopped by my town for a visit on their way to Montreal a few days ago. We took time out for a relaxing cocktail at One Federal, and I got a head start on indoctrinating her into French Canadian culture by sharing with her a plate of authentic (I guess, or as near as you can get from a true border town) French Canadian poutine before she crossed the border into Canada.

Truth be told, I had never had it either, except for the lobster poutine I had in Nova Scotia, which was actually kind of bland. One Federal's was much more tasty.

Call it The Summer of Poutine for me. Never too late to experience the good life, I say.

Yeah, baby. Smile, Carol!

Poutine and mojitos, a multi-cultural feast if I ever saw one!

We Got Yer Garlic Right Heyah

Comestibles That Came Home

Gooseberry jam made at the Acadian Museum:

As you can see, I have already - ahem - sampled it. My mom says that her father (who lived in rural Quebec) loved gooseberry jam, which she pronounces GOOZberry, which I assume is the way he pronounced it. He lived to be 95, so I figure it must be good for one's health. (Or it could be that it was something else -- the thing my grandmother believed was good for his health -- which is a shot of whiskey in his tea every morning despite the fact that he claimed to be a teetotaler. Boy, did my grandmother make good tea, he assumed! Nobody else makes good tea like you do, Ma! [that's what he called her] Must be because she was a nurse. Haha. Or it could just be good genes. The longevity genes, I haz them.)

I'd never tried goozberry jam, so when I saw it there I just had to buy some for me and for my mom. The man there who made it said it is made with just two ingredients -- goozberries and sugar. So it meets the Michael Pollan rule of eating nothing that contains more than five ingredients. Good enough for me. And oh, so tasty. 

A very special olive oil and a very special vinegar:

On Commercial Street in Portland, Maine, a shop whose name I have unfortunately forgotten had the most wonderful selection of oils and vinegars to sample. A sip of oil, a sip of vinegar, a sip of oil, a sip of vinegar. Yum! It was amazing to taste the differences. I truly could TASTE the differences and put words to the flavors:  "This one tastes like grass. This one is acidic and fizzy. This one tastes like cigar smoke." 

People do that with wine [and cheese] all the time, but up till now I've always thought, "Oh, how pretentious!" when they go on: "Figgy, with some smoke and a touch of plums; a little vinegar, with a light chocolate finish." Pfffffft.

I think I have a pretty sophisticated palate most of the time, but it all tastes like wine [or cheese] to me. I can say, "Mmmm, this tastes GREAT! I love this!" but it all just tastes like wine. Or cheese.

Apparently I'm an oil-and-vinegar girl, and not a wine or cheese girl. Or maybe I will be all over the wine and cheese subtleties when I grow up or something. We did buy a Nova Scotia wine that a woman in the liquor store highly recommended, and it turned out to be really just too sweet for my taste -- so much so that I couldn't finish my glass. So maybe I'm getting there. However, the local wine that Paula and Sandy bought the day before was much better. They chose it because the label was pretty, which is often what I do, and it just goes to show you...what, I'm not sure.

But anyway, I loved the California Manzanillo oil because it really tastes like ....... olives.  Clean, pure, true-young-olivey taste. Yummmmmdelicious! Can't wait to have some on salad. And I love the way they bottled it in the sexy bottles at the shop. And the pomegranate balsamic really hit a note with me. 

Then at Maine's Pantry, I went a little bit crazy with the Stonewall Kitchen jams and toppings they had. We get a few of these things in some of my local stores, but not this great variety. I'm just such a jamhead, really. There was some dark chocolate-salted-caramel sauce that didn't make it past me and Sandy, the hotel room, and a couple of spoons. Lucky for my waistline, we forgot the rest of the jar at Paula's. Enjoy it, Paula!

Also at Maine's Pantry, Mr. Jefferies got a couple treats:

The lobster treats are a huge hit. The blueberry ones, not so much. He says we can donate those to the pet shelter if we want. Or the compost pile.

Is it kind of a hoot how he is in the exact same pose for two of these photos, but his octopus has been moved? Looks kind of like I Photoshopped him in, eh? Translation: He wants me to play with him, and I was playing with him in between setting up shots. But he also wants to focus on the activity on the street in case any people-chasing or dog-chasing emergency comes up or something. He is just too funny, that boy.