Fitness in the Kitchen

As I get my groove back with fitness and have more energy to work out and set new goals (including getting my kids moving and to their fit activities), I've lost a little mojo for the other piece of the equation: fueling up with healthy food. I'm not going on junk food benders (with any regularity), I just feel beaten down by the predictable comments every time I prepare a healthy meal, which I aim to do every day, which means I am getting pummeled with, "Yuck!" and "Disgusting!" and "Ewoooooo!" on a regular basis.

You give the children mac and cheese out of the big blue box just once--just once!--and poor Annie is screwed.

I need not be so hard on myself. Compared to the kids on the new Jamie Oliver show, Food Revolution, my children not only know the name of every fruit and vegetable in the house (OK, they didn't know Bok Choy, but when I held it up Mc said: "Oh, I love that stuff") they are pretty decent veggie eaters.

The challenge is trying to please all four at the sametime. Someone is always dissenting. I just want one night where everyone says, "Yum!"

So I turned to my friend Chef Casey over at Culinary Competitor for some inspiration and found this recipe for Lemon Chicken Soup with Whole Wheat Penne.

The clouds parted, the doves flew down, the chorus sang, a resounding "Yum!"

Besides the fact I'm always looking for a new way to use fennel, this soup has sweet potatoes in it. Sweet potatoes, as an ingredient, is like bacon. It makes any recipe a winner.

Because I've gotta little Casey worship going, I quizzed him on his kitchen essentials--basically how to stock the kitchen and pantry to make the most any Culinary Competitor recipe at a moment’s notice (what that means for me is how to avoid an unplanned trip to the grocery store with four children).

Following are Casey’s Culinary Competitor Kitchen Essentials. I’ll add my own take on essentials for the athletic family.

Here’s the food Casey recommends keeping on hand:

• onion, red
• garlic
• extra virgin olive oil
• lemon or some other acid
• chicken stock
• fresh herbs (cilantro is usually his go to and mine, which is probably why I love all his recipes)
• black pepper, the king of spices
• salt
• other basic dried spices such as cumin, oregano, crushed red pepper, cinnamon, thyme, fennel seed
• potatoes/yams/sweet potatoes
• peppery greens
• hard cheese like parmesan, pecorino romano

In addition, Casey says, with fresh, seasonal produce, lean proteins, and whole grains (expect a lot of rice and black beans from CC), you can make anything taste good.

As for the kitchen tools, Casey’s list includes:

• knives (chef's knife, paring knife, serrated slicer)
• large cutting board
• spatulas (both for flipping and a rubber spatula for scraping)
• wooden spoon for stirring
• ladle
• measuring cups (dry and liquid)
• measuring spoons
• skillets (prefer cast-iron; 14 in, 10 in, 6 in)
• medium or large saucepan
• tongs
• food processor
• blender
• high quality microplane zester or cheese grater

That list looks good to me, but with an active family that includes small children from 1 to 6 years, I have a few additions.

Per the grocery items:

• peanut butter: most frequent use in our home isn’t for sandwiches, it’s for pancakes. Try it. You will never go back.
• yogurt: I buy a case of 32 oz. vanilla for smoothies and “yogurt parfaits,” and small flavored sizes for snacks and pre-bedtime hunger pangs.
• frozen fruit: those smoothies again. Plus frozen cherries, blueberries and blackberries are great right out of the bag and make a teething baby very happy.
• bananas: the perfect pre-run food, baby food, and kid snack (again, slathered with peanut butter).
• eggs: when all else fails, make scrambled eggs or french toast for dinner. Scrambled eggs on pierogies with salsa and cheese... yum.
• slow-cook oatmeal: doesn’t take that long to cook when you soak the grains first. My kids prefer it to instant, but who wouldn’t with the amount of butter and brown sugar I add to it. Plus, I now prefer to make my own granola. It is so easy.
• nuts (pecans, almonds, walnuts): for oatmeal and granola, salads, ice cream and alone as a snack.
• pasta: because kids will always eat noodles. When I'm feeling frustrated or have cooking block, I always fall back on noodles.

I can’t improve on Casey’s kitchen tool box. The only items I believe are necessities aren’t required for cooking, but definitely keep the cook happy:

• wine bottle opener
• beer bottle opener
• coffee maker
• ice cream scoop

Anything to add to the fit family kitchen?

Emerging Readers (Win a Book!)

My house is full of emerging readers. Books are definitely a "favorite toy" for The Boy, who scrambles straight to his book basket when he's in his room. Lift the flap and touch and feel are big favorites, but so are Eric Carle books. My two kindergartners have started reading for real. I mean for real. It's as if a switch just flipped, the lights went on and the craziness that is the English language makes sense. We went to the library last week and for the first time ever, they choose books they could read. And they like reading to their little sister who is already sharing with me the sight words that she knows: he, it, the, to.

I feel like an emerging reader myself. I love reading, always have, but this last round of pregnancy/birth/needy baby pretty much sucked all the reading initiative right out of me. I'm embarrassed to admit that I only read one book during the first year of The Boy's life. Well, of course, you might think, sleep trumps all, but reading provides the same joy as writing and all my sweaty endeavors. I missed reading terribly. Even when my husband gave me a Kindle for Christmas, I didn't crack open a cover--or, in this digital age, download a book.

Finally, last month, as a gift to myself for The Boy's first birthday, I downloaded two books on my Kindle: "Born to Run," by Christopher McDougall and "The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks," by Rebecca Skloot. While I'm definitely getting more sleep, any book I read has to be damn good for me to get through it. My opinion? Both books are damn good.

Whether you run or not, "Born to Run" is a fantastic modern day story of a once-in-a-lifetime epic endurance run twisted around the history of the Tarahumara Indians, the greatest runners on earth, as well as the evolution of humans as runners. If you are a runner, it does provide some vindication for the need to get out there and run, something that is hard to explain to someone who doesn't get it. Now you can thrust this book into the hands of anyone who asks you, "Why do you run?"

I loved this particular piece, where ultra runner extraordinaire Ann Trason describes her love of running as romantic:

... and no, of course her friends didn't get it because they'd never broken through. For them, running was a miserable two miles motivated solely by size 6 jeans: get on the scale, get depressed, get your headphones on, and get it over with. But you can't muscle through a five-hour run that way [my add: or one hour run]; you have to relax into it, like easing your body into a hot bath, until it no longer resists the shock and begins to enjoy it.

Relax enough, and your body becomes so familiar with the cradle-rocking rhythm that you almost forget you're moving. And once you break through to that soft, half-levitating flow, that's when the moonlight and champagne show up: "You have to be in tune with your body, and know when you can push it and when to back off," Ann would explain. You have to listen closely to the sound of your own breathing; be aware of how much sweat is beading on your back; make sure to treat yourself to cool water and a salty snack and ask yourself, honestly and often, exactly how you feel. What could be more sensual than paying exquisite attention to your own body? Sensual counted as romantic, right?

First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage. So I have to share another tidbit in the book about running mothers:

And caring for kids on the fly isn't that hard [my note: I'll forgive McDougall for that statement; just because you're passionate about something doesn't mean it comes easy] as American ultra-runner Kami Semick demonstrates; she likes to run mountain trails around Bend, Oregon, with her four-year-old daughter, Baronie, riding along in a backpack. Newborns? No Problem [really Mr. McDougall who's never lactated?] at the 2007 Hardrock 100, Emily Bier beat ninety other men and women to finish eighth overall while stopping at every aid station to breastfeed her infant son. The Bushmen are no longer nomadic, but the equal-partners-in-hunting tradition still exists among the Mbuti Pygmies of the Congo, where husbands and wives with nets pursue the giant forest hog side by side. "Since they are perfectly capable of giving birth to a child while on the hunt, then rejoining the hunt the same morning," notes anthropologist Colin Turnbull, who's spent years among the Mbuti, "mothers see no reason why they should not continue to participate fully."

As you can tell I might argue that none of that "comes easy" or is "no problem," rather speaks to the innate need to run for these mothers. I get that.

And speaking of mothers, just after starting "The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks," I got another book in the mail, an advance copy of "Run Like a Mother," by one of my fav bloggers Dimity McDowell and her co-author, Sarah Bowen Shea. The book officially hits the stands March 23!

Because I knew what was inside the envelope I kept it sealed on my bedside table. Then I opened it because I just wanted to see the cover. (I love the cover). Then I decided I'd only read the introduction. Then I decided I'd just start the first chapter. Then I had to officially put the book away untill I finished Henrietta, because this emerging reader does have four children to care for and I could feel a book binge coming on.

"The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks," while not about fitness, is amazing. Skloot, whose essays I've read and enjoyed, merges the story of Henrietta and the Lack's family (which could stand alone) with the history of cell culture, the research and advances medicine made because of it (especially Henrietta's cells), as well as the legal battles and laws that followed. What's particularly brilliant, is the back story, the story of Skloot herself as she researches and interviews and writes this book. Typically, the writer is an omniscient observer but Skloot's journey is well worth including. It's the kind of book that makes me feel smarter for reading it and motivates me as a writer because it was so well crafted (like watching Paula Radcliffe win a marathon).

Now it's time for this emerging reader to dive into "Run Like a Mother." For obvious reasons, I can't wait. Well, I'll have to wait until tonight (maybe I'll splurge during nap time and let myself read instead of fold laundry).

But this book just begs to be read with a group of like-minded mother runners. Care to join me in a book club blog? Dimity has so kindly offered two free books for Mama Sweat readers. The first two to post a comment letting me know you want in the book club blog get to have them (but participation is then required!) The rest of you buy the book and chime in too!

Let's give ourselves a month to read, run, read, ruminate and then I'll report back here on April 26 with thoughts. Feel free to email me ahead of time (kara@karathom.com) with your "book report" and I'll include your input in the post. Others can include their thoughts in the comments.

OK, I'm even more excited to be reading again!

Springing Forward

In light of the time change, I thought I'd share with you my little addiction.

I have a bit of OCD when it comes to time. This does not imply that I'm obsessive about being on time. Sadly, I'm perpetually late.

The real problem is that I'm addicted to wearing my watch. Not just any watch, a Timex Ironman watch or if I'm being OCD about heart rate, my Polar HRM watch. I have worn one sports watch style or another since I began running some 20 years ago. The current version is the scaled down, petite, women's watch (in hopes of being less obnoxious).

When I was thick into competing, I could store all of my splits on a 100-lap version. I hated the thought of ever deleting info. So I didn't, even though I rarely, if ever looked back on those race splits again. Since 2003 the watch's use expanded to timing contractions, then the time and length between feedings, and to acknowledge in horror and amazement how few hours of sleep I could get at a stretch.

My sister is always good to remind me that the minutes can drag on but the years fly by.

I tried to wear more decorative, stylish watches, but the switch never lasted. Watches with hands aren't precise enough. It's hard to tell if it's 4:22 or 4:23. It matters, people. And these pretty little watches don't light up in the wee hours of the night when I can't sleep (something I feel compelled to torture myself with). Since having kids I've given up my bedside alarm clock; it's just redundant when you have kids that wake with the birds and an alarm built into your trusty watch when you need one.

Still, I long to wear a pretty, unsporty watch. The urge usually strikes when I'm dressed to go "out." When my daughters take notice that I'm "fancy." When a clunky black watch just won't do. But I usually wear it anyway (or hide it in my purse so I can check the time when I need a fix).

Now that The Boy is sleeping (mostly) through the night I once tried sleeping without my watch. I was agitated the whole night. I wanted my watch back. Apparently it's as important to me as my daughter's yucky monkey is to her. So the watch is back on my wrist 24/7.

When I wake up (even on my own, without the assistance of a crying baby or a 4-year-old in my face, whispering "Mama!") I need to look at the time. How much sleep have I gotten? How much sleep could I get if I went back to sleep right now?

The time change has made these math sessions more difficult for me. How long do you spend in Day Light Savings purgatory, where you see the time, but can't let go of the old time? All day yesterday I was living in two times. The kids all woke up at 8 a.m., but I said, it's really 7. The Boy still hadn't napped at 12:30, but I said to myself, it's really only 11:30. Then last night I went to bed at 9:30 and was so smug about it because, I thought, it's really 8:30. Then when I woke up at 11:30 (and knew this because I looked at my watch) I groaned because.... ugh! It's really only 10:30.

Am I making you as crazy as I've made myself?

As of 7:30 this morning, right after looking at my watch and thinking, it's 6:30!, I decided to drop my two-timed life. As for the watch addiction, that might require some therapy. I do look longingly at stylish watches, but won't buy one until I'm sure I'll wear it. I'd like to get back to the business of using my sport watch for ... sports.

As of this morning, I've added the Lakefront Days Triathlon to my list of 2010 races. This race was already under consideration because it's close and because I've done it once before. But now I want to do it for another reason. A friend of mine is recruiting people to race in honor of her sister, Dawn, who wanted to do the race this year, but instead of training she is battling cancer. Dawn is my age. She had a baby last year, too, but shortly after giving birth, doctors detected bladder cancer. This makes me take pause on so many levels.

And brings me back to my obsession with time. I know how precious it is. Maybe this is why I can't take that bulky, easy-to-read sports watch off my wrist. When I look at the time I must be grateful for every passing minute.

What's on your wrist right now? What time is it, really? And where, oh where, does the time go?

A weekend for the record books

As a child I was transfixed with the Guinness Book of World Records. Back in the days before the Internet (as much as it pains me to admit that) the records were available in a book; a book I would check out regularly at the school library. I would flip through it and gawk at the world's tallest man, those nasty long fingernails, marvel at how someone could hold their breath so long or traipse across a rope so high.

I feel like I've set plenty of records since, though I haven't verified them with Guiness: the oldest sports bra; the longest time between getting wet clothes from washing machine to dryer; the number of times a cup of coffee can be reheated in the microwave before finally tossing out in the sink.

As of yesterday I made the official record book as part of the largest group cycling class. This "Ride of a Life Time," organized by Life Time Fitness was held at the Target Center in Minneapolis. All--all!--I had to do was take a two-hour spin class with 1,052 people.

Special thanks to triathlete extraordinaire Cathy Yndestad for the photos.

What made setting that record difficult was the record I set the day before. I managed to hang clean 90 lbs, up from a previous lift of 75 lbs. A special shout out to Tom M. for explaining the physics of Olympic lifting and his patience with someone who has difficulty grasping physics and to Ryan who put up the challenge at Cross Fit on Saturday and shouted, "The answer is yes!" when I stood staring at the 75 lb. bar wondering if I could, indeed lift more.

So, as you can probably tell by now, that felt pretty awesome. I wrote it down in my calendar, in the same way I try to note other significant details that happen. Having a record of a personal record is a nice way to remind yourself of what is possible but also it's a challenge: records are meant to be broken.

I've decided to buy my kids a small journal they can turn into their Personal Book of World Records, something they can start now and keep forever; something they can flip through, like I did back on the school playground, to admire their accomplishments and dream about what they want to take on next. I think we all need our own Book of World Records. Do you have yours yet?

I have one more item to add to mine: MOST SORE EVER!

Ka-Pow!

Taking some sort of self-defense class has been on my life's to-do list for quite some time. I have been mighty fortunate that I've never experienced any situation where I had to defend myself and I've wondered, could I? Would I hit, kick, scratch a bad guy?

The first time I took a Strike! class (kick boxing) at the gym, I was surprised at how good it felt to punch the air; how fun it was to fight it out with my frustrations. Could I hit an attacker, though? It seemed like I could, but the scenario wasn't enough of a dress rehearsal to serve as a real life simulation.

Thanks to last week's Women's Adventure Night, I got the self-defense dress rehearsal I was looking for.

I can't tell you how many mornings I've crawled out of bed after a previous day's workout and felt beat up. Friday morning I woke up with that feeling, then realized, yes, in fact, I had! There was a small scab on my knuckle from punching Bridget's protective gloves. My neck was sore from the first punch I took from Valerie, caught completely off guard by how hard she hit. My forearms had a bruise or two, despite the protective padding, after partnering with Andrea (who was holding back) on an aerobically challenging (read: nausea inducing) kick drill.

It was awesome.

I underestimated how much of a workout I would get, as noted by my earlier trip to the gym that afternoon thinking I would need a "real workout," or that I would come home with some useful, applicable self-defense skills even after just one lesson.

My main take-aways:

1) Poke the eyes.

2) A slap is more forceful when you throw your body weight into it.

3) Knees and elbows are good weapons.

Our instructor wrote an article about self-defense for women; the highlight, I believe, is this tip: be able to say, NO. If you find it difficult to say no to friends, family, even pleasant strangers in an effort to protect your time, energy or priorities, then you might also have a problem saying no to protect your own safety. If you have the dreaded "yes disease" now is the time to cure it.

While perusing the website for the Minnesota Kali Group (where we took our class and where they also happen to be hosting a Women's Personal Protection Workshop this Saturday) I discovered this video. Our instructor is the only woman in the video. While the focus is on airline safety, I think it applies to any situation where you might feel threatened.

Now, my to-do list consists of exposing my daughters to martial arts. I'd love for them to try karate or tae kwon do. And when they get older, self-defense and driver's ed will go hand-in-hand.

I also can't end the post without tipping my hat to Mind Body Mama, where you can read a lot more about incorporating self-defense and parenting (as in, the values of, not actually protecting yourself against your children, but yes, we do all have those days...).

If you still haven't taken a self-defense class, take heart: being fit--looking like someone who could defend herself--is step one. So, any workout you do is helpful to protecting your safety.

Anyone out there who makes a self-defense practice a regular part of their fitness routine? If so, share your knowledge!