I RUN FOR DESSERT

I didn't run away. I promise.

2010-06-26T20:45:00.000-07:00

Where have I been? Well, I haven't been buried alive in cupcake batter...don't you worry. My life and my blog have been under construction. The good news is that both are looking good. A new site is in the works and will launch soon.

Cupcakes and Conclusions

2010-01-11T19:35:00.000-08:00

When my dog has a thorn in his paw, he is very careful not to let us see it, see him in pain or see him licking it. But, in a one bedroom apartment there are only so many places to have any secret moments. We tend to catch him. Laying in his corner. Curled up tightly around his paw. Nursing his wound. Trying to fix it on his own.

I find people to be the same way. Well, to be more specific, I find myself to behave the same. (Note: my last blog entry was in November 12, 2009.) And if you could see into my one bedroom apartment (and thank God you can't because that would be creepy), you would have found me in the corner nursing my wounds and pretending it didn't bother me much. If you got closer, you would have seen a full on pity party.

The fact is the marathon was in the top five experiences of my life. But it also created the greatest amount of lasting pain I've ever experienced. From a severely sprained tendon in my right foot and ankle to a left leg that remains severely angry, I have not been in any shape to run. So, I've been pouting. And baking. This is not a good combination.

It has been 11 weeks since I crossed the finish line. Eleven weeks of pouting and baked goods. It's not a pretty sight. Well, actually, some of my cupcakes were pretty adorable. But I digress. The clothes in my closet that no longer fit aside, I miss running. I miss the 3 hour runs that let me clear my head. I miss how inspired running makes me feel. I miss how good it feels to get in 14 miles on a Saturday morning, and be home and showered before most people have started their day.

Eleven weeks and several dozen cupcakes later, I've finally come to some conclusions:

Substitutions are allowed.

I make substitutions when I bake (applesauce for oil, honey for sugar, etc) so why don't I allow it for my running? I may not have any applesauce in the cabinet, but I do have pumpkin. So I can use pumpkin, instead of applesauce that I was going to use instead of oil. And it turns out the pumpkin is better for me anyway. I can't run pain free right now. But an elliptical feels okay, and walking actually makes the pain hurt less. (Really, Erica, it took you 11 weeks to figure this out?)

Sitting gets you nowhere.

I took a couple baking classes at Kiss My Bundt Bakery. And Chrysta, the owner, teaches about how baking is a science. As you mix all the ingredients chemical reactions take place. (That's my abbreviated version. Take one of her classes for the real what what.) One night I made too much cake batter and didn't get around to baking it for days. Lesson learned: You can't let mixed batter sit for days on end. The cake will get dense. Very dense. You also can't let a runner sit for a weeks on end without running, or moving, or stretching. She will get dense. Very dense.

Find your happy place.

When you hide yourself in a corner and pout for weeks on end, you tend to forget the moments that make you happiest. I had to move my itunes files this week to a new computer. It took less than 2 minutes of my marathon mix to play before I felt inspired all over again, to feel the spirit of the runner in me again. Find that trigger for yourself. The one thing that makes you feel inspired, brings motivation or gives you sight of reaching your goal. Hold onto it. And move forward.

Going Bananas

2009-11-12T07:37:00.000-08:00

I finished a marathon. I spent four days on crutches, and have four weeks of physical therapy in front of me. There is no running for me in sight. It is affecting my ability to blow off steam, to work out my emotions, to let go of everything weighing me down, and to run off dessert.

So, I’ve started baking.

You are correct. Baking is, in fact, not the smartest hobby to take up when you aren’t able to run it off. But, here I am nonetheless with my skinny jeans mocking me from the back of the closet. Buttoning my pants aside, it has been a very fun and delicious consumer of my time. And, when I’m done with my hours of hard work, bengay is not necessary.

Last weekend, looking for any excuse to bake I looked at the bunch of very ripe bananas taking up residence on my countertop and decided to attempt a banana cupcake. And then I got bold. I decided to venture away from any one recipe that I found, and instead make my own recipe. Gasp. If you know about my Francese Fiasco, you understand that this was a potential disaster. But apparently when it comes to baking, I can handle this type of challenge because these cupcakes were pretty fan-freakin-tastic.

Using a family Spice Cake recipe as a base and tweaking it a bit to my own liking, and adding banana, here’s what I ended up with:

1 cup butter

2 cups sugar

2 eggs

4 mashed, ripe bananas

3 cups all purpose flour

3 tsp cocoa

¼ tsp cloves

1 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp all spice

2 cups buttermilk + 2 tsp baking soda

Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs and beat until blended. Sift dry ingredients together. Alternate adding the dry ingredients and buttermilk to the bowl. Beat only until well blended. Bake at 350 for about 18 minutes (for cupcakes).

These were super moist with a very light banana flavor. If refrigerated the banana flavor came out much more and tasted like ridiculously good banana bread.

The frosting. I went back and forth on a few that I wanted to try (Carmel, Cream Cheese, etc) but it always comes down to one thing –ingredients that I have on hand. The final outcome was this Honey-Banana Frosting with a little vanilla added to the mix. It was delicious, but it was more icing or glaze than frosting. The consistency was not right at all which led to adding more and more powdered sugar and a large mess.

In the end fashionable cupcakes went out the window, but they weren’t really around long enough to look at.

Marathon Diaries, Part Two: 26.2 Lessons I learned while running my 1st marathon

2009-11-07T15:14:00.000-08:00

With the Caskey crew at the Vienna Metro, dark and early. Mamma C & Joya did the 10K and then cheered us on at Mile 16.

Whose idea was this? That question did enter my mind in the weeks leading up to the marathon. I'm not sure who mentioned it first, my husband, or his dad, but last March we decided to embark on a family adventure and sign up for a marathon, together. It turned out to be one of the most incredible experiences of my life. Here are a few things that I learned along the way.

1. I wear my emotions in my running shoes

In the darkness of the early morning, I saw the lights of the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument and the Capitol. I would run by all three in just a few hours. I was about to run my first marathon. I cried. (no surprise there really) And I was brought to tears during about 70% of the race by the people I saw, the pride that I felt in myself, and sometimes just from the pain.

2. Recognize the heroes around you.

In Part 1, I wrote about the wheelchair racer on the hill. What I didn’t tell you is that he was a wounded vet, and he was one of many. Throughout the race I saw several young marines running with their buddies names on their shirts. No doubt their lives were lost in Iraq or Afghanastan. And then there were the fathers, running for their sons. I ran behind Cpl Ward’s dad for about 6 miles. The back of his shirt “Cpl Ward. My Son. My Hero.” I read those words over and over for miles. The last time I saw him was in Crystal City. A female runner said – “you’re son was a hero” as she ran past him. He said “Yes. Thank you.” Of course, I cried. Again.

3. Be grateful. Say Thank you.

The Marine Corps Marathon is nothing short of inspiring. The course is beautiful, every last step of it is under the shade of brightly colored fall leaves or with a view of the monuments that make our Nation’s Capitol. There was rarely a moment that we weren’t being cheered on by crowds, large or small. It was incredible. And the Marines. Oh, the Marines. Their faces kept me moving. These men and women who have given their lives to serving our country. They may have thought I was saying thank-you for their cheer of encouragement or for the Powerade, but I was saying thank-you for so much more. As the daughter, sister, niece, daughter-in-law and granddaughter-in-law of Marines, these men and women hold a very special place in my heart. Seeing them in uniform throughout the course….well, I cried, and just said thank-you to any of them that I made eye contact with.

4. I love hill work

There were two significant hills in the first half of the race. There was a collective groan in the pack when we hit them, but I actually kind of smiled. Neither hill was as fierce or as long as “The Beast” in Griffith Park, so I felt good. My team’s Saturday can include the beastly hill up to three times in long training. So, two hills, not nearly as long or as steep, I owned them.

5. Funny signs of encouragement are better than a shot blok

They say that laughter is the best medicine. And it’s true. A funny sign held by someone in the crowd will make you laugh out loud and forget your pain for at least 90 seconds. You will swear to remember all of them, not knowing that you will forget most of them in your exhaustion. But here are a few I remember.

- Run Like You Stole Something – a classic, but made me laugh nonetheless; I also used it as the caption for the picture I took of Watergate.

- Free Mimosas if You Stop Now – tempting!

- Jack Bauer never ran a marathon, but you are. – hilarious

- The End is Near – held by someone dressed as the Grim Reaper at the end of the 14^th St Bridge

- There are CUTE MARINES at the Finish Line! – enough said.

- And a group of girls dressed in full 80’s neon attire held 80’s Trivia signs and a boom box. It was a reminder that this is “fun.”

6. “Almost there” is a very cruel phrase

You came out to cheer on the marathoners, and for that I thank you. But calling out “almost there” at any mile prior to 24 is just cruel. This is also a mental race that I’m running.

7. A table of orange slices is prettier than a rainbow

Coming out of Georgetown and towards the Kennedy Center, I saw the most beautiful sight. A table of orange slices. I think I cried.

8. I like half marathons

Seeing the mile markers for 12, 13 & 14 on Haines Point, I realized that I like Half Marathons. You have to work for it, and you can still walk the next day. Thankfully my brother ran with me from mile 11 to mile 16 to help me not focus on that very fact.

9. Your ability to take self portraits significantly lessens in quality while running a marathon

me attempting to get a picture of myself with the Washington Monument

my brother's view of me attempting to get a picture of myself with the monument

my brother gets a much better picture of me and the monument

10. When in doubt, rock it out

Some of my favorite new additions to my playlist were:

o Us – Regina Spektor – on Spout Run Parkway

o Me and Bobby McGee- Janis Joplin – at Georgetown Reservoir

o Meet Me Halfway – Black Eyed Peas – on National Mall

o Halo (Club Remix) - Beyonce – on National Mall

o Get Right Back (Where We Started From) – Army Navy – on 14^th Street Bridge

o Best Supporting Actor – One For the Team – in Crystal City

o Seven Nation Army – The White Stripes – at the Pentagon

Shortly after Seven Nation Army helped me get my game face back on for the finish, these fun songs led me in the final stretch. I was so happy that I put such fun songs at the end. Despite my pain, I smiled the whole way to the finish line.

o Come On Eileen – Dexy’s Midnight Runners

o Sweet Caroline – Neil Diamond

o Don’t Stop Believin’ (Glee Cast Version) – Glee Cast

o Walkin’ on Sunshine – Katrina and The Waves

o I Gotta Feelin – Black Eyed Peas

11. A true friend will hug you when you are covered in powerade and smell like 18 miles of hard work

Getting a hug from my dear friend Jodie who I hadn't seen in nearly a year. She drove a long way to cheer me on and was in the perfect spot - Mile 18 - when I really needed some encouragment.

12. The Rocky Theme Song never gets old

At the Capitol steps, a high school band started to play the Rocky Theme Song. As a pack, we instantly regained some determination in that moment.

me trying to take a picture of myself with the Capitol. see lesson #9

13. As terrible as you look and feel, you will smile for every official race photog you see on the course.

taken by my an unofficial race photog, my brother. me & my nephew (and #1 cheerleader) at mile 11

14. I am stronger than I think but I cry like a girl.

But I think we've established that.

15. The 14^th Street Bridge is the longest bridge known to man

I addressed this in Marathon Diaries, Part 1, and have since discovered that I was not the only one that felt this way. It truly felt longer than the entire first 6 miles.

16. With enough determination, I can push through more pain than I have ever known. Not finishing, isn’t an option.

Left leg calf cramping began at Mile 3. Right foot pain started at Mile 14. Pain everywhere, mile 18-24.

In the days after the race, I was on crutches. It seems the pain in my right foot was real and I couldn’t put any weight on it. I saw a running friend of my sister-in-laws the day after the race. Seeing my crutches, she asked what happened. She said, “oh, so you didn’t finish.” I blinked in confusion of the statement. Not finish? “Oh, no. I finished.”

17. Never take food, or pills, from strangers – unless you’re running a marathon

Regular rules of life don’t apply during a marathon. Pee on the side of the road in full view of others? Fine. Unwashed hands? Acceptable. Taking food, electrolyte pills, or painkillers from strangers? Whatever helps. Thank you to the kind woman in Crystal City with the large bag of pretzels. To be able to get the taste of gu, mixed with shot blok and blue powerade out of my mouth was a gift that I can’t thank you enough for.

18. The smell of cheap, warm beer at mile 23 may activate your gag reflex

Speaking from experience.

19. A Marine saying “Congratulations Ma'am” and putting a Marathon Medal around your neck = tears

Finishing a marathon is emotional. A young man in uniform, who has dedicated his life to serving our country (who has endured more hardship in his service than I have in the last 6 hours) putting the medal around your neck for running 26.2 miles will make you cry. Again.

20. I have no idea what those silver blanket things do, but I’ll wrap it around myself because it’s shiny like my medal.

with my father-in-law & my husband after we finished. Dad C - congrats on your first finish and the inspiration to do this as as a family adventure!

21. Your mom will be so happy that you finished the race alive and standing, that she will take off your dirty shoes and sweaty socks and put the crocs on your feet that you’ve been thinking about for the last 12 miles.

Thanks Mom. I loved the excitement on your face as I charged the hill to the finish. And of course, I loved the Whoopie Pies.

22. If you look like you are about to make a serious mess in the middle of the floor, a security guard of an office building will unlock a bathroom for you.

Him: Is she going to be sick? My Mother-in-Law: Yes. Him: Come this way. Beautiful secret corridor to a bathroom without a line. Me: Relief.

23. Few people will massage your feet on the metro, after nearly 6 hours of running. But your dad will.

Thanks Dad (pictured below running alongside me from Miles 9 to 11) Not just for the foot massage, but for running to different mile markers to cheer me on. It meant the world to me to have you cheering me on in this same race that you’ve rocked three times.

24. An Ice Bath will change your life

I live in a smallish 1930’s apartment that doesn’t have a bathtub. I had never experienced an ice bath after a long run. Back at the hotel, desperate to try anything to make the pain go away, I filled up the tub with cold water and ice and got in. Holy. Cold. Pause. Smile. I can’t feel my legs. And that’s a very, very good thing.

25. Running for dessert only works if your system will accept food after 26.2 miles of brutality. But we stopped for a cone and a shake anyway. And enjoyed my mom's traditional marathon whoopie pie.

26. Pain is temporary. Glory is forever.

So many people had this saying on their shirts or on signs in the crowd. I didn't understand it until I saw the finish line. In those moments I felt no pain. Exhilaration. Euphoria. Mild disbelief. Pride. Relief. Joy. Overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Look how far I've come.

.2 I want to do this again with a stronger finish and better time

Marathon Diaries, Part 1: Perseverance: Get it.

2009-10-29T08:33:00.000-07:00

I gave everything I had to get to that finish line. But, along the way I took in an incredible amount of perspective, insight and inspiration. So much in fact that to tell you about it, it will have to come in pieces. Here is Part 1 – Perseverance: Get it.

As I was carbo-loading the night before the marathon, my nephew was excitedly telling me that he can now skip a bar as a he swings across the monkey bars. His actual words: “Yeah. My friend taught me how. I couldn’t do it a first, but I just persevered. And then I could do it.” Yes, he uses words like persevere. He’s 7.

I never thought I’d be a marathoner, but after months of training I was there at the starting line of the Marine Corps Marathon with 25,000 others. I had hours of work ahead and the determination to get to the finish line. Words like perseverance, determination, hard, almost there, cramp, happy, dig deep, pain, finish - all of these words took on a new meaning last Sunday as I moved through all 26.2 miles of my first marathon. Inspiration and insight came from within this pack of people around me – runners, walkers, bystanders, Marines.

Mile 3

I saw him first in Georgetown on the hill up to the reservoir. A racer in a wheelchair digging deep to get up that hill. He was working hard but the progress was slow. Very slow. There was a battle between determination and defeat going on, you could see that in his face. But one thing was clear, he was getting up that hill. Every runner that passed cheered him on – Get it. You got this. Way to go man. A mile after that hill, I heard shouts from behind me. Get left. Chair coming through. Get left. We all started to yell it forward as he made his way through on the right side. We cheered as he passed. All of us happy to see that he won that battle. Each hill for the next 6 miles, the same would happen. He flew by me coming out of the water stop at mile 11, heading into Haines Point. I never saw him again. I would have loved to see him finish. That last .2 hill to the finish line was brutal, but I saw his determination and I know he got to the top.

Mile 20

Everyone says you hit the wall around mile 20. It’s true. It’s a brick wall built of extreme pain, self-deprecating thoughts and exhaustion. My foot was throbbing. My legs. Oh, my legs. It hurt everywhere. My time was much slower than I had anticipated and I was becoming more and more terrified of not being able to “beat the bridge.” (not getting to the 14^th Street bridge by a certain time, meant not being able to finish the race) And as I turned onto 14^th Street, I saw my dad, brother and nephew cheering me on. I burst into tears. My brother paced me for about a half a mile. He told me – this is the part I told you about. I know it hurts. But you’re there. You’ve done this. Now, you just finish it...Or something like that. What he didn’t tell me is that the 14^th Street Bridge is the longest bridge known to man. It may as well have been a mountain. I felt like hell, and it seemed like I was making zero progress. This bridge was never ending! And, it wasn’t just me. So many around me appeared to be so relieved to beat the bridge that their paces slowed significantly. We were all just shuffling forward, giving into the battle of determination vs. defeat.

Then something switched. I just wanted to get off this bridge and finish this race, but I was going to have work for it. I asked a bystander in the crowd to tie my right shoe tighter. Delirious Race Logic: if you can’t stop the pain, just make your shoe tighter so you can’t feel it anymore. I turned up my music, and for the next 5 miles told myself, sometimes out loud, “it’s all in your head.” I dug deep, and I got to the top of my personal hill. I couldn’t do it at first. But, I just persevered. And, then I could do it.

Post Marathon finish with our nephew.

I Know I'm Not Hopeless Case

2009-10-18T15:07:00.000-07:00

This is it. I am 7 days from my first marathon. The Marine Corps Marathon. I am, in a word, emotional. I think about the finish line and my eyes well up with tears. The finish line. Sigh. In my short running career (18 months), I’ve cried every time I’ve crossed one. All four times. It’s an experience that is hard to describe. All in one moment you feel empowered, accomplished, humbled, proud, and most of all a euphoric joy.

In October 2001, I was a spectator at the Marine Corps Marathon and cheering on my brother in his 2^nd face-off with this course. There was an incredible sense of unity in the nation’s capital, just a few weeks past the dreadful events of 9/11. The patriotic spirit in the crowd was palpable. As a kid, I’d been to the race at least 3 times to cheer for my dad, a career marine. (His P.R. on the course – 3:03. I won’t even be close.) This race in 2001, I remember clearly. Jumping on the metro here and there with my dad and husband. Racing to cheer Travis on at the next mile marker. Seeing runners clad in American Flags, taking out their cameras for pictures of the monuments. Watching exhausted runners push themselves up the hill to the finish. (Yes, you read that right. It is UP hill to the finish. Marines....)

The most inspiring image came at the finish line. With my dad’s connections (he's kind of a big deal) we had secured a prime vantage point behind the finish line. It’s an amazing spot to see the runner’s expressions as they cross the line that they worked so hard to reach. For 8 years, I’ve thought repeatedly about one woman’s finish. “It’s A Beautiful Day” was blasting through the speakers. The sun was shining down on the finish line. And after watching several runners finish in what appeared to be excruciating pain, I saw this woman approaching the line. She was determined. She was focused. She was smiling. And, just as Bono reached the full emotion of the song, she threw her arms out to her sides, arched her head up to the sun, and crossed the finish line. Her expression was full of joy, accomplishment, pride and peace. To this day, when I hear that song, I see her face. It was that beautiful of a moment. I’ve thought a lot about her as I’ve trained for this race. And, I’ve thought a lot about crossing the finish line myself. "What you don't know you can feel it somehow." That is what has pushed me through this training, through the pain and through the desire to hit the snooze button instead of going out for a run.

It should be no surprise that I’ve also thought a lot about dessert. Whoopie Pies to be specific. I’m not sure where or when the tradition started. I just know that anytime my dad or brother ran a marathon, my mom made Whoopie Pies. Now, I will have earned mine. And because Carl’s Ice Cream is positioned perfectly half way between D.C and my parent’s house, we will be stopping there for a cone. And perhaps, a milkshake.

The Francese Fiasco

2009-10-02T07:35:00.001-07:00

The night of our 1 month wedding anniversary (9 years ago), I decided to make my husband his favorite dinner from our favorite Italian Restaurant. Chicken Francese. I was a married, grown-up woman and I was going to cook a fancy dish for my man because that’s what married, grown-up women do. I was excited. I felt domesticated. Empowered. The queen of my kitchen. Or, so I thought.

I grew up watching my mom and grandmothers in the kitchen. They rarely had recipes out or cookbooks. They just moved about the kitchen in a fluid motion, as if they didn’t have to think about it. Dashing this and that into the pan. Making substitutions if they were missing ingredients. Somehow on this night, I got into my head that after just 1 month of being married, and of cooking for two, I had reached this level of domestic diva. I had not.

As I opened the Joy of Cooking to the recipe, I realized the only ingredient that I actually had on hand for this dish was Chicken. But, I really wanted to make this dish so, I substituted, very poorly, every other ingredient. My substitutions and thinking went like this: Chicken Broth. Hmm. I don’t have any Chicken Broth. So, it needs to simmer in liquid…..i’ll just add more butter. Capers? Who has capers? They’ve got kind of a lemon flavor. I’ll just squeeze some lemon in there. Shallots. What the hell are those? I think they’re like onions. I’ll just dice up some onion. Clearly, you see where this disaster is headed. I was also doing all of this while talking on the phone, no less. My mom can talk on the phone while she cooks. But not me, not at this point in my cooking career. So on top of the ignorant solutions for substitutions, I burned the chicken.

My husband of one month came home to find 3 smoke alarms on the porch (because frankly I couldn’t get them to stop) and all the windows and doors open. But, I was not yet deterred. I had opened two place settings of our still boxed wedding china. Lit candles and had music playing. And, I very proudly presented him with his favorite dish. He was kind. He ate. One bite. Two bites. Looking back, I can see the fear in his eyes, but at the time I didn’t recognize it. I ate.

It took me one bite to realize that I was nowhere near the cooking expertise of my mother or my grandmothers. I could not make substitutions or be distracted while cooking. And, this thing on the plate tasted nothing like Chicken Francese.

We ordered pizza.

I’ve come a long way from the Francese Fiasco, but I have never attempted to make it again. Seth, however, makes a delicious version. I had so many expectations of myself as a new wife. Of what I should be. Of what marriage should be.

On my longer runs lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. You tend to do that when you have no access to TV, Facebook or Twitter. And ever since seeing 500 Days of Summer (which you should see if you haven’t), I’ve thought a lot about expectations vs. reality. It was one of my favorite scenes in the movie. Who couldn’t identify with the comparison of how you want and imagine something will turn out, and how it is in reality.

So I run. And, I think about the expectations that I have of myself, and the pressure I put on myself to meet those. I think about goals and what’s next. It can get overwhelming and daunting. Just like opening the Joy of Cooking for the first time. Or training for 26.2 miles. So, I just remind myself that I am here in this moment, running this mile. I’ll deal with the next mile when I get there. I know the next mile is there. I can plan for it. I can train for it. Substitutions and expectations will do me no good. If I'm missing ingredients or elements, then I may need to change my plans, or at least my expectations.

It is what it is. To not accept that will only set off smoke alarms.

Maybe I'm Crazy...

2009-09-18T22:13:00.001-07:00

When I tell people that I'm training for a marathon, they often respond with a look of -why? Or, more often - you are outta yo mind fool.

Tonight as I got ready for bed...at 10pm on a friday night...applied a cup full of bengay to my left leg... following an hour with the foam roller... took advil to ease the pain... layed out bengay patches to adhere pre-run... set my alarm for 5am (on saturday morning)...looked in the mirror and said I can do 22 miles....frankly I started to see their point.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

My Milkshake....

2009-09-12T18:02:00.000-07:00

Following a pretty miserable (more to come on that in another blog) 11 mile run this morning, I was pleased to discover (from my friend Melissa) that today is National Chocolate Milkshake Day. I'm not going to question why it exists.

If I was on the East Coast, I'd hit up Bruster's - my favorite chocolate milkshake, without question. Here on the west coast the solid choice was In-N-Out. Only complaint - just 1 size option which I like to call "not big enough."

P.S. If you want to celebrate Chocolate Milkshake Day but are watching your calorie intake, check out this recipe from Hungry Girl!

Rhythm of the beat

2009-09-07T16:28:00.000-07:00

There is a debate in the running community over music – ipod or not to ipod. My brother is firmly in the not to ipod camp. He has been running since he was 8, maybe younger. He started to run pre-ipod, pre-mp3, pre-discman, pre-walkman….sorry bro, not meaning to make you look old, technology has just progressed quite a bit. When I first started to run, Travis encouraged me to train without music. His number one argument – you begin to depend on it. Kicking the dirt. It’s a valid point. Wait a second. Here’s mine – I’m running for multiple hours! I’ve earned the right to rock-a-beat.

For those of you who stand with me on the pro-tunes side of the running trail, you understand that a good playlist is essential. I hate wasting $1 (well now, $1.29) on songs that I ultimately skip every run. After a year of running with the same playlist, I’ve recently divided my lists up to fit the mood, length or speed of my run. My brother just cringed. Not only do I have music, but I've custom fit it to my runs.

My taste in music is all over the place, so try and keep up!

Easy Run: This is typically used for my recovery run, or an early morning, girl-needs-to-clear-her-head run. Slow, easy, mellow. These are all tunes that put me in a happy place.

Go Ahead – Alicia Keyes
I Need You – Alicia Keyes
No One – Alicia Keyes
You Picked Me – A Fine Frenzy
Come On, Come Out – A Fine Frenzy
Love Song – Sara Bareilles
Lifesize – A Fine Frenzy
Past in Present – Fesit
1234 – Feist
Pocketful of Sunshine – Natasha Bedingfield
Heads Carolina, Tails California* – Jo Dee Messina *yes, it’s random with these others, but holds significant personal meaning!
Everybody’s Free (to feel good) – The Hit Crew
Beautiful Day – U2

Pick up the Pace: This is my most used playlist. It’s happy and light, yet motivating. I use it to start out a long run, or to do my mid-week mileage.

Pocketful of Sunshine – Natasha Bedingfield
Love Song – Sara Bareilles
For the Actor – Mates of State
Dream Vacation – The Maybellines
Bad Education – Tilly and the Wall
On Top – The Killers
Change Your Mind – The Killers
Over My Head – The Fray
Inside Out – Eve 6
Smile Like You Mean It – The Killers
How Far We’ve Come – Matchbox Twenty
Just the Girl – The Click Five
I Just Wanna Live – Good Charlotte
Human – The Killers
Mr. Brightside – The Killers
Stay With You – The Goo Goo Dolls
Viva La Vida – Coldplay
Beautiful Day – U2

* a good portion of this mix is the work of DJ Master Mix of Indie Rock Lauren Gibson

Kick It: I go to this playlist when I need some extra motivation on an afternoon or evening run, or if I have to move my run indoors to a treadmill.

Family Affair – Mary J Blige
I Just Wanna Live – Good Charlotte
Crazy – Gnarls Barkley
Who Knew – P!nk
Hollywood – Collective Soul
Don’t Stop the Music – Rihanna
American Boy – Estelle
Shake It – Metro Station
Y Yo Sigo Aqui - Paulina Rubio
One Step At a Time – Jordin Sparks – don’t judge me.
Girlfriend – Avril Lavigne -ibid.
Sugar, We’re Goin Down – Fall Out Boy
Don’t Funk With My Heart – Black Eyed Peas

Highlights from my Marathon Mix: some of my favorites from my Marathon Mix that aren’t listed above

Pony (It’s Ok) – Erin McCarley this was a free download of the week and I LOVE it!
Dirty Living – Brendan James
The One I’m Waiting For – Relient K
Who I Am Hates Who I’ve Been – Relient K
Dare You To Move – Switchfoot
Open Skies – David Crowder Band

Purchase pending my next itunes gift card:

Use Somebody – Kings of Leon
I Gotta Feelin – Black Eyed Peas
Sex on Fire – Kings of Leon
Please Don’t Leave Me – P!nk
Don’t Stop Believin – Journey
Boom Boom Pow – Black Eyed Peas
Super Massive Black Hole – Muse
Love Story – Taylor Swift *I know. I just can’t help it.

If I am in a store, driving my car, wherever and I hear any of these songs, I feel compelled to run. What music moves you? What's on your playlist?

- thanks to Richelle for asking what was on my playlist!

Hey 19, Kiss This!

2009-09-02T23:32:00.000-07:00

After feeling so great about my 19 mile run, I decided to hit up a bakery that I've been following on twitter for a mouthwatering long time. Kiss My Bundt. She had me at her pun. Plus, the word bundt reminds me of my dear friend Jodie, and how whenever we say Bundt (which comes up more often than one would think) we STILL reenact the scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. And still find it hilarious, every time!

I met up with my friend Melissa, who had run 9 miles that morning. I tasted a slice of the "Big Ol' Bundt" of the day, and Melissa had the Red Velvet mini-bundt. mmm.mmm. My slice was the most seriously moist cake that I believe I've ever had.

Clearly, it wasn't fair for me to leave Seth out. He'd run 19 miles too. I'm a giver, what can I say. And, I needed to justify seconds. So, I got a box of 4 mini-bundts to take home. Carrot Cake, Cookies & Cream, Lemon & Red Velvet. Our personal opinion... the red velvet and cookies and cream were the best of this foursome.

Craving some Red Velvet? The LA Times recently posted Kiss My Bundt's Red Velvet Recipe.

Tête-á-Tête on Nineteen

2009-09-02T23:21:00.000-07:00

Saturday was a BIG day for me. Nineteen big ones were on my marathon training schedule. Longest mileage of my life. The legend that most first time marathoners hit their wall at 18 the first time through, was hanging heavily in my mind. At the same time, there were (and still are) fires in the Los Angeles area. I convinced myself that the air quality would be deemed too poor for such long mileage. However, as I made my way to training, I could clearly see blue skies. I arrived at my standard time, approximately 11 minutes late, and joined the group mid-stretch. I was just in time to hear that 19 miles was still up for the running. Oh….. Goody.

For the first 6 miles of my course, I looked, well sniffed, for any excuse to call it off. To my dismay, I mean, uh, excitement…. the park had the usual scent – cut grass, tilled dirt, fresh horse manure, and a slight whiff of skunk. Mmmm. Breathe that in deep. Not even a hint of smoke.

Six miles turned into 12, and a switch flipped in my brain. I became determined to finish before the winds changed, moving the smoke onto my route and cutting off my run. I was focused, and suddenly I wanted to run this entire 19 mile route. 4 hours and 8 minutes (I never said I was fast!) after I tried to find a reason to quit, I ran back to the cheers of my teammates, having completed my first 19 miles.

My friend Maricia has asked me, what do you think about when you are running for so long? Indeed. That is a lot of conversation with yourself. But, some good stuff comes out of it that tends to apply to more than just my running.

Take the labels off. 19 miles sounds long. But, it isn’t as scary when I think of it as – Hill Loop, Out and Back, Reverse Hill Loop, Water Stop and Back. If I take it in pieces, and take the label of “long” off, take the number off, it becomes attainable.

Mini-Goals are Less Scary. On our route there is a big hill. Bertha. The Beast. THE hill is a hefty and steep one. Early in my training my friend Lori told me to focus on the hydrants. There are fire hydrants, at a somewhat equal distance apart, all the way up the hill. I run to one, walk to the next, run to one, walk to the next. Focusing on mini-goals gets me to the top without injury, without feeling defeated, and without doubt.

Believe in yourself. Determination is a funny thing. It really moves you forward, but it also forces you to really believe in yourself. This week I did, and it made all the difference.

P.S. There is no such thing as too much bengay. And, never underestimate the power of ice.

Desserts and Indecision

2009-08-27T07:16:00.000-07:00

I like options. Okay, correction. I LOVE options. Why be so narrow and focused? Options give you the chance to explore alternatives without making a specific commitment. P.S. - This side of me drives my husband crazy! It's inherited, I can't help it. My family's favorite meal is Brunch - the meal of indecision. It's not lunch. It's not breakfast. It's one giant option. And really, few things make us happier.

As I prepare for my first 19 mile run this Saturday, I'm considering my options. Not of my route, my coach will tell me where to run. More importantly, I'm considering dessert. I feel that 19 miles is a huge accomplishment and should be rewarded a such. My dessert motivator must be worthy of completing 19 miles. As of right now, I am lost on a buffet of options:

What dessert is worthy of 19 miles?

Should I bake a dessert myself?

Do I go back to get a dessert in LA that I know I love, or do I branch out and try something new?

I am lost in my indecision, which is the downside of operating in options.

Help me find my way! Please leave suggestions, links or comments below!

"Book" Club

2009-08-24T22:18:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I hosted my "Book" Club at my house. What's with the quotes? Let's be honest, we may as well be a wine club who discusses a book occasionally. I LOVE these ladies. For this themed gathering, we made Julia Child's Crepes, and I had a little crepe bar. It was a delicious blast!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Sing Out Loud! just not in front of your brother’s cute best friend

2009-08-23T00:23:00.000-07:00

When I was in the 7^th grade, my family was living in Newport, R.I. I love this town. We were living in one of those charming little duplexes that can only be found in New England. My room was smaller (my brother always tricked me out of the bigger room), at the back of the house on the second floor, and closest to the bathroom with the claw tub. Sigh. What I wouldn’t give for a claw foot tub.

During these years, I was incredibly awkward, shy, and had little self-confidence. My brother was the opposite, in my eyes at least. He was COOL! And, a popular athlete, which for the little sister meant he had very cute soccer player friends.

So, one day I’m in my room. Home. Alone. And taking advantage of it. I put my favorite (cough) cassette tape in to do the kind of singing you only do when you are home alone (or that later in life you will do, in your car, with your college roommate and fake microphones). The song of choice – Debbie Gibson “Lost In Your Eyes” from the Out of the Blue album. I rocked that mother. Heart. Soul. And High Notes. It was so good in fact, that I hit stop to rewind and do an encore. I was that good. (in my mind of course)

As the rewinding of the cassette player whirred, I hear a voice. My brother. “Erica?” Well that’s embarrassing. Nothing worse than someone overhearing your soul solo. However, the next, crawl into a hole, sentence came from none other than my brothers bestie, Shawn.

Shawn was THAT guy – the perfect mix of hottie, handsome and adorable, lovable, approachable guy next door, make you forget what you were saying the minute before, brother’s friend that you have a secret crush on. Yup. That guy.

So there I am, post house is empty solo, and the guy I can hardly say an intelligent sentence in front of, says, “Breaking the windows up there, huh Erica?” M.O.R.T.I.F.I.C.A.T.I.O.N. Where in heaven’s name do I crawl up and die? I couldn't even come up with a dignified response. In fact, I don’t remember if I ever answered. I just remember that I jumped into my bed and pulled the covers up over my head (because clearly it had the power to make me invisible), begging to rewind the last 5 minutes of my life.

This memory was all I could think about this morning on my run. Since my birthday run, I've taken up the regular habit of singing at random while running. It’s no Debbie Gibson solo, but it gets me through the next few miles. The fact is, I can't listen to "Are We Human or Are We Dancers" and not sing. It's impossible. And that goes for most of the other songs on my playlist. At one point this morning, several cyclists riding past me gave me the WTH look. I just smiled. I really didn’t care.

Sometimes a girl has just got to sing.

Tasty Eight

2009-08-22T21:39:00.000-07:00

Eight Easy Miles. Two Delicious Cupcakes. One Happy Saturday.

from Yummy Cupcakes - Red Velvet with 1/2 Cocoa, 1/2 Cream Cheese Frosting for me

and Summer Lemonade for Seth

Playtime

2009-08-19T08:03:00.000-07:00

Ask any elementary school kid what their favorite part of the school day is, and 98% of them will say Recess!* (*This statistic has no scientific value or proof and should not be used for research.) And ask any adult what their favorite day of the week is, and 98% of the answers will relate to the weekend.* Does anyone really like to work? True, you may like your work and love the work you do, but when Friday rolls around, be honest, you're happy to close up shop. We need time to play!

I was thinking about this after my run Tuesday night. To be honest, I wasn't really looking forward to the run. My left leg has really taken a beating during this marathon training. The biting pain in my left hamstring was not motivating me towards a workout. But, I had told my friend Melissa that I would meet up with her and a group from a local running store for a 5 or 6 mile run.

The great thing about running with friends, even if you only pass

each other on your route - is that it takes the "work" out of it and makes it social. Because I was having so much fun running, talking, joking and laughing with this group, I forgot it was a workout! I forgot my pain, forgot that I "had" to do 6 miles, and I started to want to do 6 miles. (although technically my route ended me at 5.6 miles)

The second best thing about a social run is dinner after! Eight of

us went around the corner to a Pizza place for pizza, salad and beer. I got to know 5 new people that night. Got in 6 miles. And of course, ordered dessert.

Dressing Out

2009-08-15T16:33:00.000-07:00

I hated P.E. in high school. HATED. P.E. As if I wasn’t awkward enough in high school, P.E. brought every one of my insecurities into the open like one of those magnifying mirrors that we all love and hate. At our high school, we had to “dress out” for gym. Dressing out equaled a pair of very long, green and gold, scratchy synthetic shorts and a grey t-shirt. Of course, there were some girls who managed to make this drab, baggy poly-blend look cute. Regrettably, I was not one of them. Already feeling “less than,” this uniform only added to the problem. The phrase “look good, feel good” can also be the opposite. “Look bad, feel worse.”

Dressed in this sorry get-up, we were led out to a track like lambs to the slaughter. Too dramatic? You weren’t there. You don’t know. We were forced to do “fitness tests,” and I was not fit. We had to do sit-ups, sprints, pull-ups, push-ups and run that blessed mile around the track. I hated that friggin mile. I would almost always come in last. I hated to run, and actually refused to do it. Instead I walked the whole thing, cursing under my breath.

The truth of it is that I believed that I hated to run. And to dig deep into my teenage psyche, my insecurities about myself generated the lie that I was not capable of such a task. But I was, and I am. A year ago I found out that I can run, that I can finish races, and that in fact, I really, really like it. I don't have to be the fastest, or the smallest, or have done the most races. I just have to run. Just for me.

Today I ran 16 miles. SIX.TEEN. miles. So, Take That Coach, whatever your name was, that frowned at me for my 16 minute walk around the track! There were several points on this morning's run that I thought I couldn’t make it. That I wanted to stop and hitchhike back to my car. The insecure girl in the ugly uniform would have stopped, but I’m not that girl anymore. Instead I believe that, in the words of my husband, or whoever it is that he is quoting, “You can choose to be the victim. Or you can choose to be anything else you want to be.”

I choose to be a runner.

And, I run for dessert.

Today's dessert:

Red Velvet Whoopie Pie from Alcove Cafe in Los Feliz, CA

*I am 11 short weeks away from my first marathon. On October 25^th, I will cross the finish line of a 26.2 mile race.

My Birthday P.R.*

2009-08-10T08:16:00.000-07:00

*for you non-runners or newbie runners, P.R. is runner speak for personal record

I typically love my birthday. LOVE. Love. Love. My birthday. This year, not so much. As the day approached, I had a solid mix of let’s pretend this isn’t happening and please let me wallow in my self-loathing & self-pity. I was not fun to be around. It all came to a head at about 9:30pm PT on my birthday-eve.

I was sitting on the couch in my Eyore state, when my text message alert chimed. It was a “happppppyyyyy birthday!!! I LOVE YOU!” text from my mamma. She, very sweetly and innocently, had stayed up until midnight to wish me a happy birthday. Something in the past, that would’ve made me smile, put on a tiara and deem myself a birthday princess. But, not this night. This night went something like this. My brain begins to register the text. On the east coast, it was now my birthday. On the east coast, I was now – thirty-ONE. No longer the mile marker of 30, I was now IN my THIRTIES. And, that’s when I broke. Heart wrenching, crocodile teared, gasping for breath, fetal position crying had commenced. I am thirty-ONE.

My husband was in the shower and totally unsuspecting that the birthday depression had moved to full breakdown. He knew I was in a delicate state, but it had turned epic with one text. Upon exiting the shower, he hears the sobs. He comes over to me. Hugs me. (I’ve tried to train him. No questions. No fixes. Hugs first. Then gently, gently begin to tiptoe towards asking questions. He did good.)

“What happened,” he asks trying hard to control the my wife has lost her mind tone in his voice. I respond with a high-pitched sequence of words, made completely unintelligible by the sobs between each one. I try again. “I’m thirteeee ONE (gasp for breath) on (hiccup) the (gasp for breath) east (sob) coast.” More crying. More hugging. I don’t’ see his face, but I’m pretty sure he’s trying not to laugh. Finally he says, (in the same voice your mom used when you woke up with a nightmare and she brought you a sip of water,) “why don’t you go take a shower. You’ll feel better.” I cried in the shower. I cried out of the shower. He hugged me again. And, I finally sob out “I just want to go for a run.” In that moment of my despair, the only thing that could possibly make me feel better was a run. It was 10:30pm. He sweetly asks, “Do you think you can wait for the morning.”

I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough the next morning. Headed to my favorite route, I started to run it out. I began to feel better as Alicia Keyes, Feist, and The Killers, helped me clear my head. And then, at mile 4 Matchbox Twenty pulled me out of my funk with “How Far We’ve Come.” Have I accomplished all that I want to in my life? No. Am I where I want to be? Not necessarily. “Oh Well. I guess we’re gonna find out. Let’s see how far we’ve come.” I smiled. I played the air drums. (No kidding. I really did.) I sang out loud. I didn’t care who was watching. This was my moment of clarity. I am where I am. I can either be disappointed by it, or accept it, and focus on what I have done and far I have come.

Mile 5 rocked.

I returned home ready to embrace my 31^st birthday. My husband treated me with the best gift ever – a day of dessert. It was a 6-dessert day. My best dessert P.R.

Dessert #1 - Post-Brunch

Nutella and Bannana Waffle at Tart

you had me at nutella.

Dessert #2 - mid-afternoon snack

this was Buttermilk Cake with Chocolate Frosting - Joan's on Third

tasted like a slice of grandma's house. a cold glass of milk would have made it perfection.

Dessert # 3 - post dinner dessert

Red Velvet Ding-Dong - Aroma Cafe

good. sweet. heavens. a square of perfection. moist red velvet cake with a light, creamy frosting between layers, encased in solid milk chocolate.

Dessert #4, 5 & 6 - bedtime snack

Lemon Cupcake, Raspberry and Vanilla Cupcake, Chocolate Cupcake with Marshmallow Center - Joan's On Third

incredibly rich, but delicious cupcakes. so rich, we could only eat a couple of bites of each one. seth fell in love with the lemon cupcake.

Can't Run Away From It. Or Can I?

2009-08-02T08:14:00.000-07:00

I love dessert. It really is that simple. Some people love savory. Some love salty. I love dessert. I think in terms of what I can have for dessert - daily. I've tried to change my way of thinking. I've tried to substitute a bowl of strawberries and yogurt for say, strawberry shortcake. I've bought the 100 calorie packs of cookies to allow myself a limited amount of sugar. But three packs later, I've defeated the purpose. My craving, my addiction cannot be outsmarted.

As my husband constantly says, "All suffering comes from resisting what is." I don't think he means this to be my excuse to eat dessert to my hearts content, but it has some relevance here. If I resist what is, then I beat myself up when I have dessert. I secret eat, so that nobody knows that I'm eating a brownie that I "shouldn't" be eating. So, what is? I love dessert. Trying new desserts, finding shops that have exceptional sweets, tasting "the best" cupcake ever, are all things that bring an absolute smile to my face and joy to my heart. I accept that. But it comes with a heavy (pun intended) price. Here's what I don't accept - back fat, jiggly triceps and the constant battle with my muffin top (and I don't mean the pastry).

Thankfully, over the past two years, I've made some changes to my lifestyle that include daily (okay, sometimes daily, but definitely regular) exercise. And in May 2008, I started running. Two half-marathons later, and mid-training for my first full marathon, I'm proud to say that I have a running habit. Running gives me time for myself. Time to think, to dream, to sing, to clear my head and to just be. There are no phones, no emails, no expectations. It's just me, my shoes and an open road.

There is a moment during my long runs where I feel the same euphoria as I do when I take a bite of an amazing chocolate cake. I run for those moments. And, I run for dessert.