This week’s goals:

~Frog current knitting project
~Try new recipe
~Make plans to see the Weston show this weekend
~Make plans to see Chihuly public display in Glendale
~Swim 6000M
~Cycle 50 miles
~Run 15 miles
~Work on vision journal
~Start new book, blog about recent reads
~Get friends to burn me new music. Specifically I want some of the Stars. Have you heard them? Love.
~Harvest prickly pear for next jars of renewal project
~Research Mexico bikinis; 6 weeks and I’m on vacation with the Ya Yas. Option A. B. C., and I just bought D.

Man, we are going to have so much fun.

~And, finally, I need to speak up about this nonsense. Since when is “Women having too much on their plate to be also good in business” and new twist? Give me a break. I’m not a (grandma) Palin supporter, but no one is questioning her husband and if he is able to keep up with his career with their five kids. Stop trying to keep women tethered by an apron; we can kick ass in the oval office and bake a mean lasagna. Don’t be frightened by our mad multi-tasking abilities, you fools. And save your newsprint for something worthwhile, like how these candidates are going to change global warming, do something about starvation in Africa, help slow the HIV epidemic, improve education in the US, etc. I do not care that a 17 year old in Alaska didn’t use a condom. How can this possibly be a topic of conversation when discussing the leadership of this country? Are you kidding me?
(If you really want to pick on Palin, let’s start with the fact she’s still got PTA president on her resume and is a gun-toting nut. I’m fine with that criticism. But her kid is not fair game.)

Geez. Bikinis and a NRA tirade. Never know what you’re gonna get around here. Huh?
~K

Call me a sucker, but lookie what I just bought:

May I present, Ms. Olive Oil. Aptly named because she is a mean, green, healthy machine. We’ll just call her Olive for short.
Holy guacamole! Isn’t she lovely? Granted, she’s not a Townie and I’m no longer an Electra wannabe. Alas, I rode the Townie and the fit wasn’t right for my height. For $500, you better get a darn perfect ride. I was about to leave REI empty handed — with my Blackberry ringing off the hook with comments reading, “Buy it!” and me laughing, thinking, “I’m trying!” when the cycling stars aligned.

With complete resolve I wasn’t going to make a foolish purchase, I was headed out the door when out of no where, my Kryptonite entered the picture. A beautiful man appeared, chatted with me about bikes, triathlons and if I’d considered a commuter bike instead? He had gorgeous eyes and I became exceptionally self-conscious all of a sudden that I was standing there in yoga pants and a sweaty t-shirt. Didn’t seem to matter though. The Novarta was really nice. Had I ridden it? Would I like to?
Yes please.
Nearly two hours and a lot of eye lash batting later, Ms. Olive Oil and I were riding home. Oy vey I should have looked at the price tag. Thank goodness he wasn’t selling cars. I’d be driving home in something I really couldn’t afford. Regardless, I’m thrilled with the purchase. She’s perfect for what I need. I’ll be giving her a fair shot tomorrow for the first time — riding to the gym, to work, to a few appointments and then to a dinner date with friends. I’m bound to be sweaty (it’s still August in Phoenix) but most happy hippies are. It’s a title I’m loving more and more these days.
Thanks for your encouragement!

~K

I’ve been dreaming of buying a new bike. I gave Esme away because the fit wasn’t right and after spending weeks of my life on Ruby, I wasn’t willing to ride with a cramped bike. Riding Ruby to work isn’t practical for a dozen reasons, namely clipping in, leaving her downstairs in the bike rack and having to ride her on the street. Sweet Moses, you wouldn’t believe how many people I know who have been hit by cars lately, including one man in front of my running group this week. A car pulled right in front of him and we watched him hit the pavement. Phoenix must be the worst city for cyclists.

So, I haven’t been wishing for just any bike, but a dreamy, pretty, comfortable, stylish ride. Isn’t she glorious? I could ride her on the sidewalk when there isn’t a bike lane and wouldn’t worry as much about losing this investment vs. her older, much more demanding high maintenance sister. She’s also one pricey mama. At $500 after taxes, the basket and lock, it is the equivalent of 12.5 weeks not filling up my car with gas. The inherent frugal monster in me is screaming, “Are you crazy? Go to Target and get yourself a $100 beach cruiser and suck it up.” The realist in me is standing in the corner coolly whispering, “If you don’t love this bike, you aren’t going to ride it. So why bother with some cheap Target bike?” The environmentalist is hugging a tree chanting, “DO IT. You drive less than 15 miles a day. A bike would be a great way to make your carbon emission zero. And the weather is only going to get cooler. Do it!”

What to do. What to do?
~K

In my social circle, bean dip is a food group. Rebilou has perfected her bean dip recipe and the Ya Yas have been inhaling it by the pie plate-full since high school. Her secret concoction involves Frito Lay beans in a can, sour cream, cream cheese and gobs of cheese. Sometimes she makes this with fat-free dairy to make us feel better about eating it as fast as we can, occasionally with tortilla chips but more than likely off of our fingers. Of course we drink Diet Coke during this silly snack to only further the nutritional contradictions. Just typing this, my stomach is grumbling and I’m wishing we were sitting in her kitchen with my finger tips burning from poking at the cheese. Yum.

We love us some beans. However, if you also love your skinny jeans, it’s best to eat beans without all the lard and fatty dairy. This weekend I used left-over black beans from the community dinner to whip up my own bean dip recipe. It is by no means a replacement for the Rebilou Pie Plate of Bean Fabulousness, but it is a good low-fat substitute.

Ingredients:
4 cups black beans, canned or cooked
1/4 cup chicken broth
1 cup of fat free cottage cheese
1 cup diced tomatoes
1 cup diced onion
4 seeded jalapeños — I like it hot!
Dash of garlic salt

Directions:
Throw in the food processor and pulse until it is your desired consistency. I like it creamy, like hummus. Serve with cut up veggies for a high-fiber, spicy snack that gives a kick of protein too. (It may or may not also be pretty darn good with chips and cheese in a half-healthy version of nachos. Ahem.)

~K

It’s been quite a while since I’ve browsed my copy of “You Can Do It” — a book blogging project I’m doing with Aimee. Rather than do the badges in order, I’m skipping ahead to badge #41: Eat It.
Essentially the idea is to take a closer look at what you are eating, see how it makes you feel, eliminate junk and add more healthy stuff. This isn’t that big of a leap; I’m neurotic about what I eat. I grew up in an athletic home. My mom taught aerobics for ten years, my dad and brother were great swimmers, and I’ve recently dug in my heels to become a triathlete. You feed your body crap, you feel like crap, you swim/bike/run like crap. Einstein, I’m not.
So, knowing how to eat healthy is in my DNA. Doing so habitually, and eating an appropriate serving size, is not.

Fruit-free breakfast that screams: time to go to the grocery. 1 cup of fat free cottage cheese, one Western Alternative bagel, 2 tablespoons of fat free cream cheese: 272 calories, 1 gram of fat, 38 grams of protein.

Specifically the badge suggests you:
1. Food journal for a week to take a nutritional inventory. I like Sparkpeople. It’s free and comprehensive. Also, I like having a buddy. Colleen encouraged me to stop drinking soda and I feel worlds better having made this little change.
2. Follow the guidelines. Know how much you should be eating vs. how much you are eating. Here’s a great tool.
3. Learn serving sizes and how to read nutritional labels. (I am also on alert for high-fructose corn syrup in my food. It seems to be in everything these days and there is nothing about “corn” or “syrup” that is going to make me healthier. In simple terms: the feed corn and other grains to animals to fatten them before slaughter. Old McDonald, I’m not.)
4. Make a meal plan and shop with taste in mind. Fresh produce and spices are easy and healthy ways to make your meals much tastier. This is an area where I need to change; I go to the market about once a week and never have enough produce in the fridge. With my new job, I’ll walk past the market each way everyday and I hope this helps nudge me to be different. Also, I’m getting more involved with the Phoenix Farmers’ Market.

I also figure a great way to have ready access to fresh produce is getting off my lazy duff and gardening. I’ve lamented countless times how my patio garden is tiny and gets the wrong sunlight and a dozen other reasons why it won’t work to grow a thing. However, the main reason nothing has grown is because I haven’t been here long enough to keep it watered and pay it enough attention. And frankly, I want a magic garden too! This resource for Phoenix gardeners and my new schedule are giving me hope this will change.

Peter Hoffman was recently interviewed in Bon Appetit. Hoffman is the owner of several restaurants in New York City and is a champion of buying local, supporting farmers’ markets and eating healthy food. A bit I enjoyed, while we’re on the topic:

Bon Appetit: Why should Americans support local farmers’ markets?

PH: Buying from local farmers is about getting off the grid — not the power grid, but the food-system grid. Money stays local, our outlying regions can remain agriculturally productive, and the landscape is preserved. The food tastes better because it hasn’t traveled as far and is fresher.

Bon Appetit: If someone says to you ‘I don’t shop at farmers’ markets because they’re too expensive,’ how do you respond?

PH: Get with it. That is the real cost of food. Vote with your fork and your belly, and support the opportunity to buy directly from farmers — and eat better food by buying from them.

Getting with it, Peter.

~K

Want to take a break from whatever you are doing? How about a 10 minute escape to the jungle for a heart-pounding adventure? You are breathing some of the cleanest air on earth. A cool breeze and light mist keep you perfectly chilled while climbing the rolling path. Vervet monkeys jump above in the thick jungle canopy; their boisterous and happy cries fall downward on spellbound interlopers.
If fairies exist, we just found their Nirvana.

Feel better? Yeah. Me too. Same time tomorrow? I’ve got another expedition to share.
~K

*

I haven’t posted much lately about my “training” because with 7 weeks on the travel docket this summer, there isn’t much planned for Fall races. I’ve got three Splash and Dash left and a sprint triathlon next weekend for the Spring tri season, and then a long hiatus until the Tour de Scottsdale come October.
And you know what? I couldn’t be happier. I’m going to pick up Ultimate again this Fall (and possibly tennis) and swing by this new running shop in Tempe that is getting rave reviews to be fit for a great new pair of sneaks. Then, the Tucson 1/2 come December with a goal of 2 hours. My current personal best is 2:14, so this would be a rocking improvement.

My day-to-day routine when I’m without a specific training race for goes something like this: Monday, Wednesday, Friday — lots of running and cycling. I’ve recently taken up spin classes because if I fall off that bike there is no risk of being hit by a car. And if I fall of the spin bike, I am officially too dumb to be on a bike and should never return to riding the open roads with the Rudy the Tempest. It is just getting light enough to make my annual transition from the treadmill to the canal and head back outside for morning runs. (We once had a serial killer here who was randomly picking people off with a sniper gun. I stopped running outside by myself in the dark during this time and have yet to return with any confidence. Too many crazies, even though they caught this nut.)
I try to run 15-20 miles per week, typically at at 10 minute mile pace. There is are a few weights sprinkled in there too; more so on the weeks when I receive my copy of Shape and feel particularly motivated. I am actually considering buying this bikini and hanging it up in my bedroom as a daily reminder of my annual Mexico trip this fall. It is wowza cute, very much my style and I will certainly need to curb my late night cereal snack habit to rock that baby with any sort of sober confidence.

Tuesdays and Thursdays I am coaching the master swim program and put in 1.5-2 miles pre-work. I try to walk or take yoga in the afternoons, but it all depends on my dance card. Social events take precedence because frankly, I can have a flat tummy and be home alone or be jolly out with friends. Jolly wins.
Weekends are a mix of errands on the bike, running when so moved and hiking with friends. I try daily to be moving at least 30 minutes a day, ideally 90. I know that I’m a cardio freak, but I am my happiest with those exercise endorphins flowing. Anytime I can be outside and not melt, I’m on the patio.

A few great resources new to me for those fellow wannabe athletes:
1. Fantastically free calorie web site. Food journaling is my friend.
2. Bike I am currently coveting.
3. Did you know they made watches that monitor caloric output? And you can find them for a smoking deal on eBay.
4. Love this magazine. Just read my first copy this week and it is really different from the other health stuff out there. Entertaining, stylish and informative in useful portions. Hmm… useful portions…

~K

* A super secret project for a certain friend’s 11th birthday party. Let’s just say she is a huge Phoenix Suns fan and we are going rock climbing.

Tri for the Cure: Checkity check. The “Tempe Y Tri Babes” did well and had fun in the process. Positives: my relay partners were prepared, raced hard, and had great attitudes. Negatives: poor race organization. Not only were there swarms of people without the foggiest idea of the course map, transition area rules, etc… but wowie — we started a good 1.5 hours late. This screws everyone up as far as energy (eat breakfast? Don’t eat?) and bathrooms. There were 900 women racing and few facilities. Now imagine 850 of them who are hungry and doing a very cranky pre-race dance standing in bathroom lines.
Yikes.

My eyes: much better. Thank you. And thank goodness for leftover drops because I’ve got another Tempe Town Lake splash and dash in a couple weeks. You can lead this horse to water, and chances are I’m going to jump in and swim, even if the water is gross.

Being in this environment is such a kick. First, there is the people watching. You wouldn’t believe the variety of age, size and physical shape of triathletes, especially in these sprint events. Without a doubt I know I’ll get my ass handed to me by someone 15 and under and someone 65 and older. Competing is good for humility if nothing else. Also, the tattoos! I think triathletes are probably second only to Harley Davidson folk for the number and variety of tattoos clearly labeling their favorite hobby: swim! bike! run! I once wanted an Ironman tat, but I’m reconsidering after the variety I’ve seen. While no doubt they are special, they aren’t unique.

There is nothing else in my routine that motivates me like being around other athletes. I stand up straight and throw my broad shoulders back with pride from the countless swim workouts that created them. I watch with body-confidence envy at the women who sport tri bikinis, for those rocking six packs and those who enjoy a good six pack. I cheer for the newbies and watch the elite athletes in awe. From start to finish, I am overwhelmed with the desire to simply be better. I want to eat smarter, train harder, stretch more and be stronger. I want to compete at the top of the field instead of hanging around the flabby midsection. (Correlation noted.)

~K

I cannot sprint like a Kenyan, but I can swim with the best of Arizona brats who grew up in fancy swim clubs. Last night’s race was a fun reminder of why I wish the swimming came last.

Let me paint the scene:
Me and 100 other folk waiting for the start of a two-lap swim around a Tempe Town Lake course. The other 99 (most with wet suits) are in the water. Me at the starting dock with my toes in waiting for the horn to start the race. I dive, I find my place in the pack, I emerge 20 minutes later or so in the first 20 or so folk. The advantage of not wearing a wet suit is apparent as I throw on my tennis shoes and sunglasses and take off. Soon enough I’m cruising through the out-and-back 1.8 mile course when I hear a set of feet behind me. A dude cruises by. Then another. Then another. Then it is a torrent of slower swimmers who’ve caught the hare and are flying past me in their fancy, sprinty, Kenyan ways.
I finished mid-pack and was pleased as punch; I swam and ran as hard as I could. I was so tired at the end I nearly puked, and considering these races provide some of the best male eye-candy in town, I’m really glad I didn’t. Instead, I pulled myself together and went out with a group for post-race happy hour.
Yet when I woke up this morning with two swollen pink eyes, I had to wonder if the dip in the city lake was worth the infection. It was a lot of fun but I am not going to be a happy camper if this morphs into another $50 spent on antibiotic drops for these wimpy peepers of mine.

Next up: Tri for the Cure on Sunday. It’s a sprint tri I’m doing as a relay with a couple girlfriends. And guess what? I’m doing the run. Thankfully I can hide behind a pair of sunglasses if necessary.

Happy weekend!

~K

I swam in the state masters meet this weekend — the mile last night and four events this morning. I am blogging on nothing more than anxiety and exhaustion. I’m home, a wee bit sunburned and very happy to have competed. And yes, I took knitting to the meet. I’m just that strange.

I notice that in true Kelli fashion I underestimated myself. My entry times were stupid slow — as in I swam in heats with an 81-year-old dude.

Yep, I beat that old man silly. Okay, really I waited in the water for him each time to finish and then shook his hand. I mean, how cool is it that he is still competing at 81? Lou and I were fast friends by this afternoon. He didn’t seem to mind I completed the mile 22 minutes faster than him and tread water the entire time waiting for his finish.

For the swimmers out there — did you learn to stay in the water until everyone is finished and shake hands with your competitors? I thought this was common courtesy. Safe to say this is not a level of competition that should be void of manners. Also safe to say I’ve got to find a new team to train with because next year I’ll be greeting Lou from the fast heat.

~K