on running & baking

I've developed two seemingly disparate obsessions as of late: running & pie making.

If you know me, at all, even a tiny bit, you know that I am the anti-athlete. I organized boycotts of the high-jump and the mile run in middle school. I took "lifetime fitness" classes in high school — consisting of walking for 45 minutes and then watching Lifetime films about bulimia. In college I couldn't be bothered to walk across campus from my job, instead taking the bus or riding my scooter as close to class as I could get.

So now, at 25, why do I take up running — why not?

Running has always seemed nice. People gracefully covering mile after mile with their lithe bodies and fancy footwear. I've tried running (more like a slow jog) many times, forcing my awkward, heavy body to heave forward, mentally committing to making it to the next tree or mailbox or whatever. I've run approximately 3 miles total in my lifetime. I've never run more than a city block uninterrupted.

I began by journey, as most do, by deciding it was a bad idea and talking myself out of it. I'm so short, my legs are thick and unwieldily even at a brisk walk, PEOPLE WILL SEE ME. And then I thought better of it. Though I'm, for all intents and purposes, fairly happy with my body it wouldn't hurt to shed a few cumbersome pounds and running might just be my ticket to achieving this goal.

I then embarked on finding some magical, 21st century tool to aid in my adventure. I selected an app I'd heard about through friends and blogs — Couch to 5k. I have the couch part covered so I figured they could assist in the 5k part. And I was right!

The app has a handy interface that shows what the work out will by like at the top, how much time has elapsed, your current activity (center) and how much time remains (right). I clung to the reading in the center for dear life — RUN FOR 60 SECONDS IN A ROW?!

 My first run was... interesting... I didn't realize that I would cover roughly two miles in 10 minutes of warm up/cool down walking, 8 rounds of  60 seconds runs and alternating 8 rounds of 90 second walks. The hill I live on is large, and very very steep but not very wide. I ran to the right, then back to the left, then across the street, down the block, up the block, back and forth and back and forth before I was finished. I also ran mid-day in the full sun which was disgusting. I returned sweaty and irritated but proud that I had moved my body for 30 minutes.

I ran on Sunday, then again Tuesday, then Wednesday and Friday. I actually ran an extra time for the week than is prescribed in the program (you can just go back to a previous workout and overwrite it). I got up at 6:00am to go outside — WUT? I felt great, I had amazing energy at work and actually slept quite well, something that majorly eludes me normally.

 Let's not sugar coat it, it sucks. It sucks so much. I'm slow and still very awkward. And running even 60 seconds takes a lot of my mental strength not to give up and crawl home.

The many faces of my week one regret:

On my last run I smashed my foot into a raised section of sidewalk, almost fell and tweaked my ankle/pride in the process. I kept going but wondered if perhaps I'd shattered a bone in my foot and could get away with giving up, possibly forever. I wasn't so lucky.

Will I actually run a 5k — doubtful. But I plan to see this 9 week program through and maybe I'll find some enjoyment in what I'm doing at some point. I do know that without Salt-N-Pepa and Wreckx-N-Effect I would have given up long ago.

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Now, pie baking, what's that all about?

Well first of all, since moving in with Adam I have a huge kitchen for our tiny apartment. We have a 6'x4' aluminum topped island to roll out pasta dough, lay out and prep ingredients for salad, assemble elaborate lasagnas — the culinary world is now my oyster in a way my old apartment never allowed.

With all this space has come new obsessions: freshly made pasta, raviolis, homemade sauces, baking and mixing and blending galore. The next logical step was to delve into more precise baking than my haphazard crisps and biscuits. Enter, the pie.

I grew up eating pies. Lots and lots and lots of pies. My grandmother, Mary Mae, was also a bit pie obsessed. Thanksgiving was not complete without 4, 5, 6 or 7 handmade pies for our meager 11 or so person crowd. We aimed for a 2:1 person:pie ratio at most events and holidays. 

She didn't discriminate in her baking, all types of pie received equal treatment: tart apples, cherries, strawberry, pumpkin, pecan, and rhubarb, so much rhubarb. As a kid I had no patience for its sour, strange flavor invading my desserts. All that changed earlier this summer when I ate fresh rhubarb pie from Adam's brother/sister-in-law's garden and a bell went off — I need to get on this.

I did what I normally do with a new obsession (other than running) — acquire all the fancy equipment needed. A pie pan, silicon crust shield, rolling mat, drip pan, and cookbook — ordered. The pan arrived in pieces, ugh. (Also what the heck Amazon I could have killed myself)

I selected a book by Allison Kave that was highly rated on Amazon and included some cool recipes according to the index. I ended up buying another book by a woman from Seattle, Kate Lebo, entitled Pie School: Lessons in Fruit, Flour & Butter. It has: a) a seemingly more simple and better crust recipe with butter instead of Crisco, b) better rhubarb recipes, c) great photo directions of things like dough-rolling and lattice weaving.  

My first batch of crust dough is in the fridge as we speak awaiting a filling of blueberries from Nooksack, Washington and rhubarb from our landlady's garden. It won't be the same as my grandma's as it is my first pie and not my 100000th but I'm excited all the same.

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