My Life on Instagram

A stockpile of pancakes in the freezer = Best idea ever. I topped them with sliced banana and blueberry-lime jam from the farmers market.

I'm such a proud mama. Miles is totally nailing his workout nutrition. On our family walk on Tuesday, he had some fruit snacks before we started and then requested applesauce 0.1 mile in. He stayed hydrated with some juice – Tinkerbell lid, of course – and my Nuun. As for me, I was just glad my trucker hat camouflaged the ridiculous circles under my eyes and my hoodie sort of covered the belly.

Vegetables at lunch! It's such a novelty lately but anything cooked (think: steamed broccoli or green beans) just turns my stomach. When I think of salads, I wince at the thought of spring mix and spinach. Thankfully, romaine and iceberg are appealing even if they aren't the most nutritionally dense. I topped my salad with tuna salad and called it a meal.

After my second salad of the day, we went to grab ice cream with my in-laws. I swear the last time we went, Miles was a baby. Not anymore. I can't even ... he just kills me. He's lucky, too, because this morning he told me "I just don't want to be around you right now."

Do you follow on Instagram? Check out other random photos HERE. Also, share your profile in the comments so I can follow you!

Winter Skin Care Tip + Other Randomness

I am not sure it's possible to tell you how excited I am to see this:

Yes, my friends, that is the forecast for Fort Wayne. It's a forecast that includes low temperatures warmer than the highs we've had this week. It's ridiculous and well deserved.

As much as I look forward to watching Miles ride his tricycle after dinner and taking walks, I'm most anxious to see an improvement in my skin. It is dry, cracked and almost permanently red. If I was more ambitious and had less respect for you, I'd take a picture ... but I'm only half-way through my {decaf} latte and want you to continue reading.

So, no picture.

I think the only thing that has saved my skin is a tube of NAAWK medicated lip balm that I keep in my front console. Every time I get in the car, I apply the balm to my lips and then the worst spots on my hands, mostly the knuckles. It's probably unsanitary, so I apologize, but the balm gives my hands the protection they need on mornings like today when it is 10. TEN DEGREES on March 6.

Whatever. Moving on.

Feed me. We usually pick up dinner or go out to eat on Fridays. However, we're going out to lunch tomorrow after our hospital tour, and Mark and I deemed it prudent to eat in tonight. The only hiccup in this plan, as I discovered this morning, is that we have no food. After we cleaned out the fridge, ahead of garbage pickup, all that remained was bare shelves. I used the last of the jelly this morning for Miles' 300th morning snack – a PB&J – because it was either that or a second bag of fruit snacks. Let's just say that I'm going to have to do some serious planning and list writing before I hit the grocery this weekend.

Rest up. Also on the agenda this weekend: Sleep. We had a sick dog this week, and we were up two nights with him. The night that Denali seemed OK was also the night that Miles decided to be awake for two hours. It happens, it's life, it's not the end of the world ... I know. And I recognize it's going to get a whole lot worse soon but dang, it was rough – and it showed on my face.

Big time. My fatigue hit me big time during my Thursday night boot camp slot. I was on the mat leading a stretch, and my eyelids were so heavy that they shut. Thankfully, I didn't actually fall asleep. For long. Maybe just a few seconds.

An aside, every time I walk in for that class, the instructor of the outgoing session likes to tell me how much bigger I've gotten. Yes, I am bigger this week. It's called GROWING A HUMAN. Dude is gaining a half-pound a week. What am I supposed to do? Suck it in.

That's all for now, friends. Happy Friday! And Happy Last Work Day of the Longest Week Ever!

How did your week fare?

Five for Friday

It was a milestone.

On Wednesday, I walked down the hallway to the far away bathroom and I didn't feel a pang until I was halfway there. I almost stopped to do a happy dance but I figured that it would not be socially acceptable to pop, lock and drop it in a place of business.

Also, I don't think I could get up.

1. So, yes, after two weeks of frustration, I am starting to see improvement with my piriformis. I still have discomfort even just walking but the pain is less severe and my gait is improving. As Mark told me, my waddle isn't so gimpy.

2. I changed up quite a few things this week to see whether it would improve the situation but I would be hard-pressed to say that X, Y and Z helped but not F, G, H. I'm even hesitant to share because I don't want anyone to mistake what I'm doing for actual advice.

But, for the sake of honesty, here's my self-prescribed therapy: I quit going to the actual physical therapist, stopped incorporating pigeon into my stretching routine and eliminated sugary treats. I added cherry juice, epsom salts, Deep Blue doTERRA oil and began using my Tiger Tail before doing my new stretches.

3. Thankfully, I've been able to teach my classes and the regulars have been understanding if I'm doing a modification or switching things up. Last night, though, I had a HILARIOUS moment. A newcomer to boot camp gave me the strangest look and just sort of stared. I asked if she was OK and she seemed hesitant to answer. Then, almost stuttering, she asked if I was pregnant.

Why yes, yes I a.m. It's sort of obvious at this point, especially with a Fort4Fitness tee strained over my belly and being relegated to wearing Mark's sweats.

"You're not doing this are you?" she asked.

No, no I'm not. But only because of my bum bum, I thought. There's nothing in this particular workout that I couldn't or shouldn't do. (It was a fun 30-20-10 workout, AMRAP style. Six minutes to complete as many sets as possible of three exercises. The first exercise, a cardio style, had 30 reps; the second exercise, large muscle group, had 20 reps; and a balance or core exercise was last with 10 reps. I think we got through four different groups of exercises in the 45 minutes.)


Anyway, it just made me laugh that people see the belly and think I can't work out.

4. While I'm anxious to be 100 percent and resume all physical activity, I have to say that this down time has been nice. I've been able to sleep in, relax (somewhat) and do more with the family. Novel, I tell you.

This morning, for example, Mark wasn't feeling great and stayed home. He and Miles played video games while I hung prints and curtains in baby boy's room.

5. And because babies are more fun to talk about, I am *this* close to being done with the room. I just need to touch up the paint on the dresser and bookshelf and get a few more decorations. The theme is dinosaurs but I'm trying not to be overly cutesy. On the book shelf, I want to display some 3-D dinosaur puzzles and I might get one more thing to hang.

Also, I need to buy baby socks ... because I had a dream that I didn't have enough.

Snow Day Scenes

When it was all said and done, Fort Wayne got 9 inches of snow, maybe 10. It wasn't quite the snow event I was anticipating but it was still a lot of snow.

We managed to get out for church before the bulk of it but we were otherwise homebound for Sunday.

To pass the time, we baked.

I had a wonderful, enthusiastic helper for some "chip" cookies (butterscotch, M&M and chocolate), and I made a loaf of cheddar thyme bread. I started with THIS RECIPE from a Betty Crocker cookbook – an actual book, such a novelty – but made some tweaks. I used cheddar and thyme instead of asiago and rosemary, and I subbed the bread flour for all purpose plus 1 tablespoon of vital wheat gluten.

We played in the snow. Of course.

I mostly watched as Miles and Mark tried to sled – the nearby hill isn't steep enough – and Miles hung out with a friend nearby. I picked up a shovel for all of 5 minutes before Mark stole it from me. Hmph.

And when it got too cold, we headed back inside for a few rounds of Candy Land and to put together puzzles. I should note that Mark was not doing the dinosaur puzzle by himself. Miles had abandoned it for another dinosaur puzzle, and it just needed to be put away.

The funny thing about the day was that I was so worried that we would be bored that the opposite happened. I didn't sit down until after dinner, having filled the day with so much. (I also painted baby boy's dresser and book shelf while the boys watched TV.)

And so, as Mark cleaned up, I collapsed on the couch with "Property Brothers" and a cookie, Miles cuddled in next to me.

Perfect ending to a perfect day.

Currently

Borrowing this idea from fellow Pro Compression ambassador Lora at Crazy Running Girl because ... why not.

Currently ...

OBSESSED with "Serial." The podcast is a spin-off of "This American Life," a long time favorite of mine, and looks at one-story — a 1999 murder case  — over its season. It's been popular from the start, a fact some of you were probably hip to, and incredibly addictive. I've binge listened to the available episodes — so much so that I find reasons to drive just to listen. I'm on No. 8, "The Deal with Jay," and will be lost when I'm caught up.

SAD that my lunch is gone. In what was probably an excuse to listen to "Serial," I decided to venture just a bit outside downtown and go to one of my favorite spots for an udon bowl. Udon noodles, shredded carrots, bean sprouts, cucumber, basil, peanuts, avocado and crispy pork belly. My friends, it doesn't get much better. If you ask why the pork belly, I ask you why not. The spot has more healthful offerings, depending on your definition, but its known for its duck and pork belly. I usually go for the duck but getting the pork belly allowed me to pay with cash.

IN LOVE with these socks from Pro Compression. I know not everyone likes to dress up for races or running but I do love adding some spirit to my outfits. I like to do it for my classes, especially. You can use code SNOW to save 40 percent or use BLG14 to save 40 percent on any marathon socks or sleeves. While you're at it, just check out Pro's new site. It looks really nice!

CONTEMPLATING running the Gingerbread Pursuit next weekend just so I have a reason to wear the new SOM. My pair is already on the way — it's just a matter of choosing where to wear them. The race is 4 miles and the extended forecast is reasonable, which are two big pluses in the pro column. However, as Mark stressed, I can participate in the event but I can't race it. It might be challenging mentally and physically to take part when I'm not at my best.

ENAMORED with my boys. I might have been a teensy weensy bit disappointed that Baby X is a boy but I quickly got over it when I was reminded just how sweet of a child I have. A child who is a boy. Miles is very complimentary, telling me that my freshly painted nails are beautiful or that I look pretty today or that he loves me. He doesn't hesitate to give hugs and will enthusiastically tell me to, "Watch this," as he gives me a huge squeeze.

Mark isn't so bad, either. Filed under the "we've been married long enough" category, he surprised me with an early Christmas gift — a new quilt and shams for the bed. I've never liked the duvet and cover we got as a wedding gift (hassle and a half) and our sheets have seen better days. The new set is like a makeover for the room!

DRINKING three things: Nuun All-Day, La Croix and decaf coffee. I make no sense but I am staying hydrated. The La Croix is a big treat because I'm usually too cheap to buy it at the store but a co-worker bought some and didn't like it. She's nice and shared.

PLANNING to run tonight. In a sly move to maintain my sanity over the holidays, I'm skipping dinner with the in-laws (Mark and Miles will go) and running with Denali. A bit of quiet time (or time with "Serial") will do my mind and body some good. It looks like the #RWRunStreak is on ... for now.

ARRANGING some giveaways for you great readers. Stay tuned next week.

Your turn! Answer, Currently ...

The Ride Up: Elevator Woes {A What Would You Do Post}

Warning: This post will most definitely include ranting and most likely cursing. Proceed as you will.

It was another day grabbing lunch at the hospital.

I had good intentions, of course, of packing food today but time got away. One moment, it was 7:10 a.m. and I was taking a bath with Hulk, Iron Man and Miles and the next moment it was 8:30. A shot of adrenaline shoots straight from my brain to my ass to get it moving. I had a midwife appointment at 9:15 clear on the other side of two but they like to tell you it's 15 minutes earlier in reminders. So, I think I have a half-hour to get Miles in the car, drive to daycare, get Miles into daycare, kiss him goodbye and drive a half-hour to the office. It's not going to happen, I know, but I can do my best to be only a little bit late. However, Miles doesn't get the memo about "we need to go now" and is asking what he can take to daycare. A sword? A pumpkin? A cuddly. Kid, just get in the damn car. We need to go.

And, so, yeah, I didn't pack my lunch.

Just after noon, my work husband and I head to get lunch. We walk less than two blocks into the hospital, maneuver through the small ER and take the elevator to the basement. We navigate the crowd of people, select the best of the worst and begin to make our way back.

On the elevator.

We follow a small throng of female workers into the small space. "Six!" "Four, please." "What floor do you need?"

"One," we tell her.

And that's when it happened. The "it" that has me feeling stabby and defensive and all "I need to blog about this for validation."

A woman in the back corner, wearing dark blue scrubs and carrying a Styrofoam container, spoke up. "You could have probably taken the stairs for one."

"Yeah, I could have," I tell her.

"You know, you probably should have," she tells my work husband and me.

Uh, excuse me. I know what I should and should not do – not you. So why don't you hold yourself together and shut the front door?

Now, I will say that taking the stairs is a nice idea. I do it – sometimes. Other times, I don't really feel like it. I want to hold my food and stand in one place while a machine moves me to another place. It's easier, definitely, and in terms of proximity to exits, the elevator is more convenient.

Plus, I really fucking hate climbing steps. I know, I know. I have no problem running 5 miles – I even like doing it – but walking steps makes me tired.

I had no idea how to react to the woman. I felt agitated and defensive. How dare she judge me for my choices? So I said the most ridiculous thing in the most ostentatious voice I could summon.

"Well, I got up at 5 a.m. and ran 5 miles."

And then I walked out.

Tell me: What would you have done? And if you tell me take the stairs, I will ... umm ... not share my flank steak that was surprisingly delicious.

Soggy McSoggerson

This is where dedication and necessity meet stupidity.

I really needed to do something this morning - something active. After 24 hours of whining (and it was not me), I needed a space that was quiet, serene and just for me. My plan was either to rest or cross train, so I opted for the latter and decided to ride my bike. It was still in my trunk from a lunch ride on Monday, and I could easily park at work and go for 45 minutes before starting the day.

Now, I knew the forecast called for severe weather. It's all the meteorologists have talked about this week. However, it was predicted for the afternoon and when I checked Weather.com, the morning was just supposed to be cloudy.

Yeah. Cloudy. I will never trust you again Weather.com!

It was drizzling as I put the front wheel on my bike in the parking lot. It drizzled a bit harder when I started toward the greenway. By the time I hit the first hill, it was raining. By the time I hit the first foot bridge with warnings "Slippery When Wet," I was legitimately concerned about sliding and controlling my bike.

But still I rode. I needed it.

I was granted a bit of reprieve as I entered a heavily wooded part of the path but upon exit, I could hear it. The rain. Falling harder.

It was downright pouring by the time I hit my turnaround, and I was cycling with my head down to keep the rain from pelting my eyes. I am sure that would be considered super safe.

I kept hoping it would let up as I rode back but it did me no good. My jacket was soaked and sticking to me, my feet squishing as I pressed down on the pedal.

The remainder of the ride was spent equally trying to hammer to hurry the heck up and get back to the office and trying to ride conservatively - especially on the foot bridges that are fake wood - to keep myself safe. It was neither fun nor the quiet space that I had hoped for.

I arrived at work a soggy, wet mess. Like a sad little puppy left outside. My friend who (wo)mans the reception desk couldn't help but laugh at me. In the most caring way possible, of course.

And neither could I. It was all so ridiculous.

We laughed so hard as I explained my morning that we almost cried. It was then, I realized, my ride didn't give me what I needed but the experience and the friendship did.

Now if I can just find somewhere to hang my wet clothes ...

The skinny on motherhood

The 2.3 miles that separate my house from daycare are not marked by traffic lights and stops signs. Rather, the seven-minute drive is punctuated by question marks that leave me wondering why I didn't pursue advanced degrees in meteorology, animation, anthropology, theology and criminal justice before choosing to have a child.

"Who does Spider-Man fight?"

"Who else does Spider-Man fight?"

"Is it going to thunderstorm? See - the clouds are coming together. Why do the clouds come together?"

"Where do the robbers live? But why do they live there? Do they not buckle their seat belts?"

But on Monday morning, as we made the famliar drive, I found myself not pulling my hair out and silently screaming, "I don't give a shit where Superman lives," but answering a question that I'd never thought I'd have to answer. Not while talking to my son, not before he has even turned 3.

"Mommy, why do you want to be skinny?"

Long before I became a mother, long before I met Mark, I knew that of the things I would pass on to my family, I didn't want it to be my own weight history or body image issues. It was not just a matter of the child(ren) not being overweight but also one of recognizing it. Just as one might try to "erase" race, I didn't want them to see fat or skinny, to recognize it, to talk about it.

Yet, here I was. Being forced to talk about it. And I didn't know how.

So I did what I do best. I just started BSing my way through it, hoping to turn the conversation around and distract him.

"Mommy just wants to be healthy and strong."

Why? He asked.

"It makes mommy feel better about herself."

Why? Again.

"When I feel healthy and strong, I feel happier."

Why? Again.

"When I'm healthy and strong, I can play ball with you in the backyard and take you for runs and go to the park and play."

Why?

"Hey! Who do you want to play with at daycare?"

Daycare. I thought, as I drove. Of course.

Recently, one of the helpers at daycare has commented (more than once) that I have been looking skinnier. I think it's probably because I have lost a bit of the wheat bloat and now that it's finally summer, wearing less bulky clothing. I don't like talking about my weight, no matter how well meaning the comments are, and I usually slough it off. I say I'm just doing what I'm doing.

Miles isn't always around for these conversations and, if he is, I'm not sure he cares what we are saying. There are times, though, when he'll ask what we're talking about and pull out words from the conversation.

Words like skinny.

While I thought the issue was one I would need to be more cognizant of if I had a daughter, the inquisition was a reminder that what we say has power. The things we talk about don't recognize age or gender. A parent's opinions, attitudes and comments shape what they think is important.

And, at 33, I can say that skinny isn't one of those things.

Hiding: Photographic evidence

I was sure I had left it there - in an Office Depot paper box, tucked in the attic of our first apartment - three moves ago. Tucked inside the box, underneath my old clips from college and other papers I had saved but didn't need access to.

I had never cleared out that space when we excitedly moved from the 600-square-foot space into a two-bedroom, 1,100-square-foot apartment that felt like home. And I regretted it for much of five years.

Then came the text, out of the blue, from my sister-in-law. She had been cleaning out my brother's foot locker and had found my pictures from Jerusalem. The photos that were taken on a once-in-a-lifetime trip in 2001 - before Facebook, before MySpace, before my first digital camera. The 4-by-6 prints were the only record of my trip.

My brother delivered them to me this weekend, and it was with much excitement that I flipped through the pages.

Jerusalem

Church of the Holy Sepulcher.

Capernaum.

The Dead Sea. I can still feel myself floating on the salty water and the rough, rocky bed underneath my feet.

The memories of the beautiful, exotic place flooded my brain but the one thing I couldn't see was me. I wasn't there - not in my photos of Tel Aviv or the Golan Heights. There wasn't a snapshot at the top of Masada or one of my toes into the Mediterranean Sea. I would like to say it's because I hadn't been trained by social media that a selfie at every stop was necessary but I'd be lying. I didn't take photos because I didn't want to see what I looked like.

I was acutely aware that I was not skinny, not even average, when I boarded the plane to New York and then Tel Aviv. The seat belt was tight and I could feel all 230 pounds of me spilling underneath the arm rest. It was uncomfortable but expected.

What wasn't expected was the negative comments about my weight from another student on the tour, which was for college newspaper editors and sponsored by Project Interchange. We were in one of the hotel rooms in Jerusalem, on the first leg of the trip, and watching TV. I made a comment about Beyonce, he made a comment about me. One was complimentary, the other was not. And so for the rest of the trip, I was hyper self conscious. More uncomfortable and self aware than ever. It was bad enough that I brought in the rear on the ascent up Masada - I didn't need a picture of it.

I allowed two pictures on the trip - both group. One was at the top of Jerusalem and the other with a group of Israeli soldiers in Netanya. In doing so, I chose to be absent. From my own memories.

It wasn't the first time I let my own insecurities get in the way but I am hoping it will be the last. My challenge to you is to make the same pledge. To never let the present affect your ability to look back and move forward.

Chop it down to size: Parallels in life and health

Just past 4 p.m. on Easter, I sat on the back step of our patio and stared in amazement. "After three years," I said, turning to Mark, "I can't believe it's done. They are finally gone."

Enjoying a strawberry basil cooler that first summer with the bushes in the background. Note that I'm about 9 months pregnant in this picture.

Since the first summer in our house three years ago, I have had a volatile relationship with two honeysuckle bushes.They were overgrown, invasive and taking up highly prized garden space. The branches grew through the chain link fence, hanging over our neighbor's driveway, and the daffodil bulbs planted underneath didn't get enough sunlight to bloom.

I let the frustration simmer for a year or two before trying to take on the problem. We cut it down with the help of my father-in-law (and his chain saw). We took advantage of wet springs and tried to dig them out in a single effort. No matter how much we thought we did, the bushes won.

In the fall, I had had enough. I didn't think I could make another feeble attempt, many of which had made the area a sore sight in the yard. I called a tree removal company and got an estimate. As they always do, the estimate was more than we hoped and the worker's sheet included notes of other spots in the lawn that also required attention. There was a dead tulip tree in the front and a near death pine in the back. It would be good for another bush to go, and the company made other suggestions for improvement. The total bill was not looking pretty.

Overwhelmed, I tucked the estimate in a drawer and tried to forget about it.

But I couldn't. Even through the tough winter, the two bushes stood there as if they were taunting me. They seemed alive despite the hacking and frigid temperatures, and I knew they would once again take over. With a renewed drive (and plans to grow my garden space), I decided to do something.

For the past several weeks, I have tackled the blight - a step at a time. I borrowed my father-in-law's chain saw and cut the bushes to 2 feet in height. Using a pair of pruning clippers (sharpened by Mark), I further cut the branches. With the chain saw, again, I cut exposed roots. I dug some more. Cut more. Going a little deeper each time.

We (Mark and I) were going to give it a break on Easter. The morning had been busy and stressful at times, and we needed to relax. But I couldn't. The branches were staring at me and being so close to the finish line, I knew that I needed to do it then or it never would happen.

In my Easter dress (an $8 find at Old Navy), I grabbed the axe from the garage and started work. I cut the root ball into pieces, dug around it to expose more roots and then hacked them. Mark came out and, together, we pulled piece by piece out. Sweat dripped and the muscles in my back burned but each piece of wood that got tossed in the burn pile made it worthwhile.

An hour in, Miles toddled out from his nap. He blew some bubbles and played as we kept at it. He was tired but with the promise of a trip to the park, he let us finish.

After our trip, I took a moment to soak it in. It seemed so strange that after all that angst, everything was finished. I didn't need people to do it for me and I didn't need fancy equipment or to pay someone for a drastic procedure. I just needed to muscle up, dig, cut away the layers and pull out the bad parts.

The holes were filled with ash and dirt, and the area will soon be tilled to make room for more garden space. In the spot where bad things grew, new life (squash, eggplant and tomatoes) will grow.

Maybe I'm being overly introspective (thanks, therapy!) but there seemed to be so many parallels between life, health, fitness and weight loss in those bushes. We want something, we say we want to do it but when it comes down to it, more often than not we want someone to do it for us. If we give up that ideal and give ourselves a chance, we are far more capable than we gave ourselves credit.

Note: Mark was helping A LOT with this process but I felt a lot of ownership with the project as my hate for the bushes ran deep.

Three Things Thursday: Birthday edition

Today, I am 33.

In this photo, I am 1. And almost as cute as I am now.

It's a birthday. A day like any other, really, except I'm giving myself permission not to track my 1,000-calorie lunch at Olive Garden. {Soup + salad + breadsticks = OY!}Oh, and I ended my run on an annoyingly odd number - 4.17 miles - to mark the day of my birth because, let's be real, I'm not running 33 miles today.

So what am I doing? I am reflecting on the past year and expressing gratitude for what the age of 32 brought me.

1. Resilience. Life doesn't always turn out the way we want but we need to learn to accept it, learn from it and move on. They were several things that came up this past year that caused me great pain (I'm thinking the Bodypump debacle) but I've learned that I need not feel sorry for myself. There is strength and power in heart break that can be turned for the better. I can be better.

2. Friendship. I have never been the girl with a lot of friends. Maybe I'm not super cool or, maybe, I've never put myself out there for fear of being rejected. Whatever. This year, though, I went outside my comfort zone and made some really great friends. Some of them have been people I've connected with through this blog and are now real-life pals, and others are through the running group. Also, I feel like I've opened up and became more vulnerable with long-time friends, fostering deeper relationships. It's those connections that have enabled me to be more resilient and fiery in the face of disappointment. I am forever grateful for the people who have come and stayed in my life - they are the best gift.

3. Love. Mark and I have always been a solid couple - a cute, picture-perfect couple, according to many people's comments - but you don't become solid without mortaring together the cracks. This past year, we had some cracks but we've learned to come together to create a stronger bond. It's safe to say I not only love him but I like him.

And not just because he gave me this goober, either.

Please note: I made Miles wear that hat all morning because it was my birthday and I wanted him to. I considered it fair since ... well ... who cares if it was fair.

As for 33, I have no big dreams or hopes. There's no bucket list of 33 to cross off. I just want to continue to learn, live and love.

And run. Of course.

The Power Lunch {aka Get Shit Done Hour}

I have a sourdough starter.
 
It's revolutionary, I know, and incredibly sexy. You have to feed it and love it. You have to make sure it's still alive, not too hot or too cold. You have to let it out every once in a while and play with it. Really, it's a lot like a dog - except that you get to eat bread at the end or give it away to people who like bread, which makes people think you are a nice. A dog just craps on the floor and stares at you.

 

But, back to the bread.

I had to go home at lunch this afternoon to manage the two batches of Extra-Tangy Sourdough Bread I had working. (See, just like a dog!) I had made the dough this morning, and I gave it the required four hours to "relax." I was on step 3, which required me to add additional flour, sugar and salt, and then move on to the kneading, step 4. As I am in the new school of bread making, I fully embrace the stand mixer for kneading. It saves my arm muscles for things like bicep curls and frees up my time for other things.

In the case of today, it allowed me to switch over laundry, put four pairs of dirty shoes in the washer (three pairs of my sneakers and Miles' Converse low tops), hide some Easter basket goodies from curious toddlers and prep dinner.

Tonight, it's Meat and Grain Burgers from the Runner's World Cookbook. Mark had requested beef burgers so I bought a package of beef ... Laura's Lean Beef and decided to use that recipe, adding a whole bunch of stuff that I will not tell him about. Keep your fingers crossed that he does not read this before dinner. When I get home tonight, I just need to fire up the grill pan and spend 10 minutes in the kitchen before we can enjoy our first meal of the year al fresco.

In that hour I spent at home, which is about 10 minutes away from the office, I felt more accomplished than I have in a long time. Domestically speaking, of course. It was nice. It didn't hurt that it is a gorgeous day, and I got to feel the sun on my face as I drove and crack the kitchen window as I prepped.

Normally, I will spend the lunch hour working or going out to eat. Every few weeks, I might throw in a workout. I like the latter the most, followed by restaurants and then work. However, today's sense of "git-r-done" almost makes me want to try this once a week or so.

Then again, doing laundry might get old ... older than it already is. Let's make it every two weeks.

Tell me: How do you spend your lunch break?

***

During the month of April, Pro Compression is donating a portion of select product sales to Team in Training and Train 4 Autism.

  

All Purple and Powder Blue products are 40 percent off, using code SOM4 at checkout. The code is also good on the new Red, White and Blue Stripe Marathon "Tube Sock." How cute would those be on Memorial Day or Fourth of July?

Eating to beat depression: WIAW

"I wouldn't think you eat a lot of carbs or sugar, though."

Sitting just a few feet away from me in a cozy office in a carriage-style house, I just stared at my new therapist. Moments before, she had diagnosed me with depression but said that my running would, for the time being, keep me off antidepressants thanks to the release of dopamine and serotonin. So the question of my diet was an interesting one.

I wanted to tell her that I run. Far. #carbsforlife, yo. You know. Rather, I told her my diet is always a work in progress.

Breakfast: Southwest Egg White Scramble with homemade sourdough toasted topped with Trader Joe's Fig Butter (this will be the death of me)

The reason she brought up, she explained, was that a diet high in carbohydrates and sugar has been linked to depression. In her experience, changing diet as part of treatment could be beneficial. "Eat to Live" by Dr. Joel Fuhrman could offer some insight. I took note and went on my way.

Morning snack: Carrot Cake Cookie and skinny steamer

I'm familiar with the "Eat to Live" protocol having followed the holiday challenge more than a year ago and being around people who follow it. It's restrictive at best - a primarily plant-based diet that eschews oil, sugar, dairy and salt. I've always thought it to be too much for me but if it would help me, I was willing to reconsider.

Lunch: Whole-Wheat Couscous Chicken salad with a banana

I talked to my co-worker who had been a pretty devout Fuhrman follower. She had seen some great results from the diet - lower cholesterol, blood sugar - and seemed to embrace the lifestyle. Those things are great but my interest was narrow. "Were you happier?" I asked. The answer? Yes.

Afternoon snack: Carrots with the Laughing Cow and watermelon Nuun (it's back!). Also, homemade hummus and tabbouleh with wheat pita, dried apricots and walnuts

The challenge for me, though, was believing whether the diet made her happy because it made her feel better on a self esteem level or whether changing the way she ate affected her mood on a chemical level. I know eating healthfully makes me feel good but it's almost always because I feel like I'm doing something good for me, giving more confidence and satisfaction.

Dinner: Open-faced veggie burger with corn, dollop of mac and cheese and homemade onion soup

I decided to turn to another friend: Google. Searching for research about mood and diet, I found anecdotal and research-based evidence that certain ways of eating affected mood. The Mediterranean diet that seemed popular a few (or 10) years back was shown to improve depression. Sugar and the effect on insulin was shown to exacerbate depression.

Snack: Plain Greek yogurt with stevia, golden raisins, walnuts and TJ's fig butter

The more I read, the more I realized that it comes down to one thing: Eating real food. There's a definite link between depression and sugar - whether we eat sugar because we're depressed or whether we're depressed because we eat sugar - and it would behoove me to try to limit it.

My goals right now are to cut back on the treats, focus on quality carbohydrates (going back to whole grain and brown rice instead of what the boys like) and dramatically increase my fruit and vegetable intake. I am taking cues from the Mediterranean diet but mostly for meal inspiration. It's by no means a dramatic overhaul, or at least I'd think, but a chance to renew myself, my diet and my mental health.

The change is just that - a change, a work in process, which I guess is a lot like therapy. I'm happy to report that I'm already feeling better. I definitely know that it's feeling like I'm taking that step forward, again a lot like going to therapy, but it's something.

Sometimes

... you just have to drink water out of a wine glass.

Even if it's from the tap, the water is exponentially better and more sophisticated when it's in a red wine vessel. I often find myself rinsing out a glass from the night before and drinking a glass or two of H20 from it as I cook breakfast.

... you just have to know when to cut a workout short.

I had a 6-mile run with 4 miles at tempo, and I knew from the moment I stepped onto the treadmill that it wasn't my day. The YMCA was stifling - humid and hot - my favorite treadmill was taken and time was short. I got through the warm-up and 2.15 miles at tempo when I decided I was done. It was the first workout I've crapped out on in 9 weeks. and considering I've exceeded my goals on most other runs, I'm not fretting.

... you just have to eat cake.

I know I gave up sweets for Lent but it's been a rough couple days - again. It's as if once I get myself to a good mental place, there's a push back down the dark hole. Anyway ... when my co-worker was inspired, by me, to make a cake and was then kind enough to bring me a slice, I couldn't say no. I savored every bite, slowly, and it might have been the best cake I ever had.

... you have to know when to ask for help.

I've been struggling, this much I've shared. I've done my best to run through it, cry it out and vent to friends. It's helped but it has yet to bring me lasting peace or give me the tools to cope on my own. So, on Tuesday, I found myself making an appointment with a therapist. Thirty-six hours later, I feel a bit silly and I am struggling as to whether to keep it but it's still a step in the right direction.

... you just have to share the excitement.

In the midst of all my troubles, I got an exciting email. I had won the giveaway from Run With Jess for the racecation to run ZOOMA Napa Valley. Holy. Shit. Balls. I was stunned. I've been pining to run a ZOOMA race, and I have never been to that area of California. Not to mention, my "celeb" crushes, mother runners Dimity and Sarah, will be there as will a couple of my Hood to Coast teammates.

I am beyond grateful to Run With Jess, ZOOMA and the sponsors of the giveaway for the chance to go.

Fill in the blank: Sometimes _____________.

***

Things to keep in mind ...

My Pro Compression giveaway. Enter HERE. You can save on socks with the code HS40 - 40 percent off and free shipping.

Nuun has a pretty awesome promotion right now. Get a free trucker hat with any purchase. I just placed my order for the Nuun Energy last week so I'll let you know the verdict in a wee bit.

Life lessons to run by: Three Things Thursday

It was going to be a run. A rave run. The sun was out, the mercury had risen above freezing and a warm spell the previous day had melted the snow and ice on the trail.

In essence, it was a day that I had ran for all winter, and I was sure my easy 3-miler would be worth the wait.

Until I took the first step. My legs felt heavy, my body tired and I had cramps. Not those kind of cramps, mind you, though they were in the same area. It was more of a pain than an ache, and I had this sensation that my girl parts were going to explode out and fall on the trail. So either I bruised the bits during an interval trainer ride Monday or I'm growing a Tyrannosaurus that wanted to claw its way out.

Editor's note: I am not pregnant and it is not that time of the month, hence the confusion.

I tried to forget about it and focus on the glory that was running outside. Soak in the experience that I had been whining for. As I stepped around the gate and over a mini snow mountain, something my grandma would often tell me popped in my head.

Grandma, who is always right {11th commandment}, has been on my mind lately as I will finally get to see her this weekend after two failed attempts earlier this year. She always has something wise to say and her nuggets are things I need to live by.

1. Accept the things I cannot change. The Serenity Prayer is what came to mind just after the first mile on my run Wednesday. I couldn't change the state of my bits but I could change my frustration and attitude. It's definitely a model of thinking to adopt during the harsh winter months - accept the conditions, change your attitude (or mode of exercise) and move on.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much it applies to me, in the current sate of things, and it was comforting. I can stop allowing negative emotions to get the best of me and accept the things I cannot change and look for the courage to change the things I can.

2. Gratitude. Grandma is always telling me to be thankful for the things I have, and I'd like to think I am. I feel grateful for the things my body can do and that Mark allows me the freedom to do them.  I was reminded this week, though, that I am not always so mindful about exhibiting it. A co-worker recently celebrated her anniversary at the office, and she handed out thank you cards to those who had helped her this year. It was a definite first for me, and it was nothing I'd ever think to do - much less expect. The card served as a good reminder that gratitude needs to permeate all areas of life.

3. One drink, one water. OK, this one is a little less serious but nonetheless important. Grandma's rule for drinking at the bar is you need to follow every alcoholic beverage with a glass of water. Her thinking is that you won't have enough space for the drinks if you are following it with water. (Or, you are too busy peeing that you can't find time to order a drink.) I'm not a bar girl but, you all know, I am a coffee girl. In an effort to hydrate, I made a rule: I have to "earn" the coffee by drinking a cup of water. It hasn't cut my coffee consumption but I am drinking water, as well as getting some extra steps with the frequent ladies room trips.

Another scene from Wednesday's run. Notice where the snow hits the benches.

What are your rules to live by?

Scenes from the weekend

I nearly flopped on the couch Sunday night as Mark queued up the second episode of the new season of "House of Cards." I was tired, exhausted maybe, and I wanted more than to sit on my backside.

After all, it had been one of those weekends. It wasn't jam-packed with adventures but rather full of family and memories, going and coming. Standing and running. Fun ... delicious, delicious fun.

SATURDAY | A trip to the mall and carousel. Miles has been making big gains toward becoming a "big boy," and we rewarded (read: bribed) him with a trip to the carousel. A $2 ride is worth days on days in underpants. And this look on his face. He loved it.

Side note: When we try to explain to Miles why we have to work, he replies that we are making money for the carousel.

SUNDAY | Hockey adventures. I scored some free tickets to the Komets game at work, and I thought we might able to take Miles to a Sunday afternoon game. It would not interfere with his sleep schedule and, if he freaked out, we were not out too much.

Miles was really excited, especially when he split some yogurt with Dad, but it ended with the first goal for the Komets. They blare the horn and the fans are quite enthusiastic, thoroughly freaking him out. We managed to stay through the first period and intermission but couldn't deny repeated requests to leave. On the way home, he kept telling us that he was going to share that he went to the game and it was "scary" with friends at daycare.

ALL DAY, EVERY DAY | ALL THE BREAD. A few weeks ago, I began a sourdough starter. I'm not sure why but it's something I've always wanted to do. It's a fun and dangerous thing as you are making something once a week (or throwing out some starter). I've made traditional bread and sourdough waffles, and this weekend I made this sourdough oatmeal bread. Oh. My. So. Good. I gave one loaf to my neighbors who are always very thoughtful, and I kept one for us. I'm trying not to eat it all but it tasted far too good right out of the oven , with butter after my 12-mile run.

And speaking of that 12-mile run, while there is no "scene," it was quite noteworthy. It was the first long run since early January where conditions were conducive to clocking my normal long run pace and there were sections with actual pavement. I almost didn't know what to do with myself and neither did my legs. I swear they felt slow and heavy without resistance.

How was your weekend?

WINNER! I compiled all of the comments, numbered them and selected a winner for the Core Values challenge. Echowoman, send an email to hlthystrides at gmail dot com, and I'll get you squared away.