A new friend, who has been staying with me for a few months, is a professional runner. Yes, I realize I’m setting myself up for a very odd pattern of having professional athletes live with me. But, then again, it is nice to have company and someone else to take Nelson for walks.

Fine. Sarah takes him for distance runs. I take him for easy walks.

Having someone in my home who monitors every single bite that goes in her mouth as part of her job has been, well…. let’s say interesting. It’s made me take a much closer look at my fridge, plate, and scale.

I once dreamed of swimming collegiately after spending the majority of my childhood in a Speedo, but it didn’t pan out. Come to find out I am not fast. I’m not a quick swimmer, runner, cyclist, tooth brusher, etc. I can, however, go the distance. The mile was always my event swimming. The half marathon became my event as an adult runner. I loved the one half Ironman I completed. These events take as much mental discipline as they do strength; I love the dual challenge.

Thankfully, I’ve got exercise-loving genes. My parents were both incredibly active when I was growing up and continue to exercise today. My brother was on the  path to being a world class swimmer once upon a time, and today can climb mountains like a monkey. Our family vacations were planned around beach time, where we’d swim and run and goof off with the paddle ball set until we’d barely be able to lift fish tacos to our tired mouths.

Living with a professional female runner has stirred up emotion I didn’t anticipate, nor considered once when hosting Matty for three years. Come to find out, I deeply wish I’d made strides athletically then, and could run more than 3 miles today without my body failing today. This buried emotion emerged recently at the end of yoga classes, bubbling up unexpectedly. It’s strange to recognize a disappointment that lay dormant for 15 years, waiting for just the inopportune time to be mined into daylight.

What can you do? I wish I’d been fast. I’m not. Boo-freaking-hoo. That doesn’t mean I can’t be a great athlete (yogi, hiker, cyclist, bowler, driving range golf ball destroyer) today.

Cooking with Sarah has been an education in dietary diversity and odd supplements. I now regularly eat brewer’s yeast. There is fish oil in my fridge. There are hemp hearts in a canister on the counter. I’m eating a ridiculous, Costco-amount of spinach each week and have started carrying a water bottle wherever I go. Sometimes an old dog can learn new tricks.

Frankly, it is more fun to be challenged to those things I can change — headstands in yoga, a healthy diet, cycling up Lookout Mountain — than spending any more time pouting about the history I cannot. I thank a regular yoga practice for both digging up what I didn’t want to address, and for learning to let it go.

Namaste, y’all.

~K

Her: White water raft!

Me: Pedicures!

Her: White water raft!

Me: Mimosas and hot stone massage!

Min is notoriously nervous about travel, but loves a great rush of completely non-controlled adrenaline — like rafting and climbing trees full of bee hives.

I, on the other hand, have no problem taking a prop plane into a tiny African town, but a weekend activity that requires a helmet and public display of lycra?

No thank you.

(More about that lycra later. )

Needless to say, Mini won and by the end of the day, we all agreed white water rafting Clear Creek was one of the most fun things we’d ever done. We screamed, giggled, yelled and talked over chattering teeth as we dipped and bobbed down the 6 mile trek. Our guide, Chelsea, was the perfect fit for our high strung, type A raft. Like the Aussie surfing turtles in Finding Nemo, she was so laid back and sweet — it was hard to think what we were doing was in the least bit dangerous, dude. With a head full of dreads, arms weighed down with dozens of bracelets and tanned arms and legs that showed she rarely left the river, she called commands as we paddled like mad.

It. Was. Awesome.

So fun, in fact, I’m now trying to talk my dad into a long float trip down the Grand Canyon. I love rafting for the same reasons I love fly fishing — it brings you to the most beautiful places you’d likely otherwise not see from that vantage point. The river was breathtaking. And I’m hooked.

So, in rare form I’ll admit Mini was right. This was such a good idea. Perhaps even better than a spa day.

~K

* Our raft trip included 6 boats full of people, including a boy scout troop. I was the only one who didn’t plan on wearing more than a Speedo to go down the river. The yoga pants I brought wouldn’t work and I just didn’t think to bring shorts. So, there I stood on the side of the highway with 35 clothed folks wearing only my lap swim bathing suit and a pair of Chacos. It’s not like I’ve got some sort of ridiculously fit bravado at the moment where I didn’t care that my butt was the only one flapping in the breeze. Oh, I cared. But when life turns out to resemble a cliche fashion nightmare, what can you do? Throw back your shoulders, slap on a fake smile and pretend you MEANT to be the only one in a Speedo.

Yep. Meant to.

Gulp.

The fact Mini and Bec were willing to claim me during this public display of humility? Well. They are very good friends.

When you take census of the things you own and the things you are willing to move 1000 miles, you are reminded of who you truly are. Our things, especially those of which we are unwilling to part, define our values. We’ve voted with our wallets. These dishes, this piece of art, this bike. They each have a story.

Part of this move is to pull myself from the vain and excessively materialistic culture I find myself so attracted to by working in north Scottsdale. BMWs, fancy designer bags that cost twice my mortgage, prescriptions to grow eyelashes longer and plump lips. Being a part of this life is my default. It’s where I find myself without any work. In fact, it feels great to walk into a trendy restaurant wearing designer jeans and having a great pocketbook tucked under my arm and diamonds in my ears.

Like these things tell everyone in the room I’m successful. I’ve made it. And really, how silly is that? My heart could be as tiny and black as the Grinch’s, but with the right clothes, I’d feel noticed and admired.

This isn’t who I want to be. I need a shedding of skin  — to remind myself of the values that made me the weirdo through primary school (save the trees! recycle!) and in college (why blow dry your hair when you can spend that time reading/hiking/looking at the clouds?). Of course, with a change in jobs and income I’ll no longer be shedding that skin with a fancy spa treatment, so much as a homemade sea salt scrub.

Who do you want to be? Exactly who you are? If so, my hat is off to you. Each day I awake and think of how I could have handled the day before a bit better. What I could have said differently, how I could have acted a bit more gracious. I often hear from friends, “I don’t know who I want to be when I grow up.” Never mind most are in their 30s. We aren’t a lost generation so much as one that wants to balance luxury with meaning.

I want to be a woman who is confident without a mirror. One who regularly volunteers. One who always makes room for others in her home and at her table. One who gives generously and doesn’t care about her car because she’s on her bike. One who can get along with her mother no matter what, because for heaven’s sakes — I’ve only got one and she is dang special. I want to eat less meat, grow more of my own food and have a home that reflects a family trying to tread as lightly on this sweet earth as possible. I want to be confident in sharing my faith with others when they ask. I want people to know I’m a Christian by my actions — and I want that to mean something good and honorable in my community.

I want to spend less time navel gazing (ironic, on a blog) and more time photographing life.

(And I kinda want to change the world, so I’m going to start with mine.)

Too much? I dare say not.

Letting my homemade, optimistic, hippie freak flag fly,

K

This weekend I ran the inaugural Mountain to Fountain 15k with a team of friends, aptly named “Natalie Merchant and the 15k Maniacs.”  The race started in the McDowell Mountain State Park and finished at the giant fountain in Fountain Hills. While it was a “net” downhill run, there are several considerable hills and it was one heck of a run.

I had more fun with this race than I’d have had running in a long time. It renewed my love for the sport; I can’t wait to get through a cortisone shot this week in my heel so I can get back to distance running. (Add that to the list of sentences I never thought I’d say.) Everything about this race reminded me why I like distance running: the variety of participants, the glorious scenery, the repetitive one foot after another, the battle of your mind vs. the pain, the powerful surge for the last half mile showing you can run farther and faster than you ever thought you could. There is nothing as sweet as being stronger — both mentally and physically — than you thought.

I finished smiling knowing I couldn’t have run it one bit faster or smarter than I did. That in itself was a complete victory.

And who doesn’t need the occasional win?

Thanks to my compadres, the Maniacs: Juliann, Adam, Dave and Octavio. And the mystery member of our team who signed herself up obviously because of the rad name. Whomever you are, we salute you — random Maniac. Also, many thanks to Kilimadog for photographing and driving.

~K

P.S. Lookie who surprised me at the finish — Finny! Such a good supportive friend of crazy athletic endeavors she is.

Juliann and I ran the Women’s Half Marathon together this morning. The course was hilly by Arizona standards, but also quite lovely. We started in south Scottsdale, wound around the Papago Mountains, over the Mill Avenue Bridge and around Tempe Town Lake to finish at the park. While my time was far from a personal best, it was a great dive back into the pool of running.

I’m now looking for a couple more halves this winter. Even though today was slow, it felt great. In so many ways, it filled my sails. I can’t wait to get back out there and race again!

~K

I’ve had a sinking feeling for the last few months that I was going to have to wave the white flag of defeat and by bigger jeans. I’ve always crammed into my jeans as soon as I could on the weekends. Paired with flip flops and a t-shirt, they are my comfort clothing. But, not surprisingly after having canceled my gym membership about a year ago, they aren’t fitting so comfortably today.

My friend Adam tells me regularly I’m good with accountability and discipline. My waistline these days says otherwise. I’m by no means fat, or even technically overweight. But I am not happy. I have an entire section of my closet that I’d really like to wear without sucking in, shimmying and having a stomach ache all day from the tightness.

I haven’t become sedentary; in fact, I think the extra cush is in part because of being more social. I’ve spent much less time in the last six months cooking for myself, or just being at home. The after work happy hours, weekends with bowling and bar food and that taco festival? Well. You can do the math.

I weighed myself yesterday for the first time in a few months and I am about the same as I was 10 years ago when I left for the Peace Corps. Granted, prior to leaving, I spent the better part of  a couple months curled up in the fetal position on the floor of a Cold Stone Creamery, mainlining mint chocolate chip. I was worried I’d never see anything cold in Africa. I was not worried about my jiggle.

Today is another story. So, I have a plan! Rather than waiting until January with all the other lemmings, I’m taking this pants vs. my waist circumference challenge by the horns today. And because I tackle few projects without waxing poetic, I figured I’d share the details and progress. You know. Just in case anyone else may have a few extra pounds to lose?

1. I’ve downloaded a calorie counting app on my phone. Every bit of research I’ve read lately says writing down what you eat makes you more accountable and keeps things in check. You see what you are really doing to yourself with those after work nachos and margaritas. (Oh, those calorie numbers hurt.)
2. I joined a gym. As much as I hate the gym rat routine anymore, it is just too dark outside this time of year for the hours I have available to work out alone. A gorgeous trainer named Natalie is scheduled to start shaping up my flab tomorrow afternoon.
3. I’m cooking. It is a lot harder for me to be disciplined about this than ever before because my work schedule is nuts. Yet the sodium content on a lot of the foods I’ve been eating — both brought back to life from the depths of the frozen food section and “healthy” eating out — is off the charts. My heart needs a break.
4. Specifically, I am cooking with more vegetables. I’m also going to try to eat less meat. I know the hype with protein is “eat more! lose weight!” but in my mind, that more often than not translates to “have sausage on your morning bagel! the meat will be good for you!” Wrong.
5. And, of course, I’m going to be a lot more selective about what I’m drinking. Far more water, far less wine. I’m unwilling to cut it out entirely. But for the time being, there will be fewer cocktail parties and more Netflix and knitting.

The goal is 30 pounds by April 1. Yes, it is a lot of weight. Yes it is completely possible. Yes, I can do this.

Each week, look for a new recipe, new weight loss tool and weight update. There is nothing as motivating as public shame.

Blog, keep me accountable.

~K

I do my best with a firm plan in place, which is why once upon a time, I created a similar chart for my 1/2 Ironman. That chart got me through thousands of miles of training (okay, maybe 1 thousand miles) on my own and saw me through the best race of my life. I’m hoping this chart sees me through a summer of running and yoga and to a couple personal best times in the 10K and 1/2 marathon. I’m also participating in the 100 Pushup Challenge.

The truth is, I’m not a natural athlete*. I’m not particularly good at any single sport I’ve ever tried to master. But I am stubborn, which comes in handy when trying to finish a novel, a 60-day-yoga challenge, manage three jobs, or any of the other crazy challenges I’ve pushed myself through. So, I may not be running any races at an Ethiopian pace, but I can promise you I’ll finish and give it all I’ve got.

I’m looking forward to a summer of long and short runs through the desert, around Tempe Town Lake, with friends, alone, with dogs, with music and with my two legs that I know will see me to success.

What are your goals this summer?

~K

* And yet? This doesn’t stop me from making bold statements at dinner parties, challenging friends and friends’ husbands to tennis matches, golf, bowling, etc. I wish my athletic ability could actually keep up with my cocky confident blabber mouth for once.

Juliann talked Adam, Matty and I into running a 6 mile mud run with her this weekend; it was one of the silliest things I’ve done, and so worth it. Not only did it provide an opportunity to swim, crawl and jump in mud pits, but I got to do so with some of my closest friends and a gazillion strangers too. The shrieks from a bunch of adults jumping in mud — our collective inner child returned happily and had such a great time.

Matt and Adam, logically, pre-gamed with some breakfast beer. (And gravel guards.)

Next year I am going to wear a two-piece Speedo, old running shoes and a bandana. Wardrobe malfunctions were plentiful at this race. If you can imagine, I was left to run more than 5 miles with yoga pants full of mud in the mid-section — if you get my drift.   It wasn’t pleasant. It was actually a bit rashy and abrasive. I had also foolishly worn hiking shoes. My legs and shoes were weighed down with so much mud, it was like running with kettle bells attached to my ankles. But we sucked it up and made the most of it, mainly by walking most of the race and thoroughly having fun when mud obstacles came into play. (It was also very helpful to have Juliann at my side. She is remarkably encouraging. Adam just made me giggle. Matty met us at the finish line, clean and dry — long having finished. Whatev.)

Thankfully, it did remind me of my love of running and my inherent competitive spirit. It has been far too long since I’ve run regularly or raced for anything. Time to get back into the routine and pick out a new goal.

Just an average Saturday morning!

~K

I was reading the other day how you shouldn’t trust the calorie counters on cardio machines at the gym; they can be misleading, even if you enter your accurate weight and regularly have it keep up with your heart rate. I conducted a bit of an experiment this morning and wore my heart rate monitor while I worked out on the treadmill. After 42 minutes, the machine said I’d burned a whopping 540 calories. Woo!

But not so fast. My heart rate monitor says I burned 384. Which one is correct? I have to go with the lower number, but considering they are using the same information, it does make me wonder. What’s the equation and which one is correct?

Also, do I need a new heart rate monitor? Because if I had the extra $400, plus $80 a month for the subscription fee, I’d be fueling my obsessive compulsive nutrition and exercise hobbies with that fabulous Bodybugg thing The Biggest Loser participants wear. Have you seen those? Wow. (You think I’m crazy now. I’d be super nuts with one of those.)

Alas, it is just simple math for me: calories in vs. calories spent. I’m not sure I’ve got the math down perfectly, (still having a hard time figuring out what I burn on an average day without wearing the stupid monitor all day long) but I am learning more everyday from my trainer, the nutrition blogs I pour over and spending time with friends with similar interests. I am also pushing myself just about as hard as I can go in the gym and loving every second of it. Also? Learning how to eat every 3.5 hours with diligence. It speeds up my metabolism and also helps with portion control. I’m eating fewer calories than the typical 3 meals a day and don’t deal with the blood sugar highs and lows of eating large meals.

I’d love to hear your experiences with nutrition and what’s working for you.

~K

Why the goofy smile?

Because yesterday was “new running shoes day!,” one of my favorites. I get new sneaks every 500 miles or so and was in great need. I can always tell when it is time to trade in a pair because my arches ache after a couple miles. (And sometimes you can feel a pebble or two through your sole if you’ve really worn them too long.)

Thanks to Santa, I had a generous Foot Locker gift certificate to use toward these fabulous New Balance babies.

They made getting out for an afternoon run yesterday that much more fun!

Happy Friday friends,

K

P.S. Sticking with those resolutions, I signed up for Ultimate Spring Season today. Let’s hope this time around it goes much better than last.

2008 was a banner year. While I didn’t buy that house (thanks economy!) or get the dog, I did create a garden, feed friends regularly at community dinners and flew past my goal of reading 40 books. I’m not necessarily any more financially secure this year than I was last, but I did manage to get a great new job and a sweet new ride. Plus, there were several a splash and dash, a couple triathlons and those five weeks in sweet Africa. I also found a great new church, saw myself published in newspapers and secured a ghost-writing deal. There was Mexico, Nicaragua, Steamboat, Portland, San Antonio, Denver and even a jaunt to our Capitol. While I could join the chorus of moaning, I’d rather not look at my 401K. Instead, I’ll just be thankful for what a great year this has been otherwise. I’m healthy and happy. There is a family moving into the White House who I admire and am proud of. My own family is doing great. Last year treated me very well.

I’m hoping in 2009 to see:

• The novel published.
• A new sew-along with Finny.
• More than a dozen meals cooked from those new cookbooks.
• 60 books read.
• 1500 miles on the bike. Chris rides 500 a month. My friend JT rode 2400 last year. I can do this!
• Less TV watching. (This is actually a pretty easy one since my TVs soon won’t work.)
• More time being social.
• Giving Ultimate another shot.
• Giving dating another shot.
• Taking yoga and pilates regularly.
• Resisting buying new and instead rocking what I already have.
• Learning to sew a dress.
• Learning to hand quilt.
• Learning to knit a pair of socks.
• Scheduling and running a couple more 1/2 marathons.
• Giving my trainer and his new eating plan a fair shot.
• Having my blog redesigned and expanded.

I’m going to post where I’m at with each of these monthly, including a weight/health/strength update. If 2009 had a theme, it would be accountability.

What are you hoping for in the New Year?

Wishing us all the very best,

Kelli

P.S. Roscoe is growing up and some how keeps getting cuter!

Little did I realize I was really not lifting weights, so much as pretending to. How do I know this? Well, my fingers are pretty much the only thing I can use this week that don’t ache. About a month ago, I got a lead (via Twitter no less) that a local gym-owner was interested in hiring a ghost writer to help with a fitness book. With a complete lack of being able to control my priority or responsibility list, I jumped at the opportunity. H and I have been meeting regularly since.

He is exactly what you’d imagine. He’s a former professional bodybuilder, literally built like the Hulk and yet very kind. His gym is for women only and his speciality is making women feel really, really good about their accomplishments by having trainers regularly compliment you on the smallest of improvements. How do I know this? Because I fenagled training as part of my payment and am now on week two of torture.

And sheer torture it is. Three times a week I go to his gym to be bullied into an hour’s worth of weights. I swear to you, I have never been this sore. Not after a marathon. Not after a 1/2 Ironman. Not after hiking through the African bush for a couple days. I’ve woken up in screaming pain in the night this week because I rolled over and some muscle cramped in the process.

But, you know what? I feel pretty darn good. Another part of this training is to keep a food journal this week to show them my normal eating habits. Having to write down every morsel for a stranger to judge has made me really take a closer look at what is going in my body. I’m being much more mindful of my diet and in combination with the new torturous routine, I’m seeing a new me.

To be honest, I’ve always had this athletic chip on my shoulder. My dad, a natural athlete, has never had a problem maintaining his physique. He’s fit and as a result has always looked considerably younger than he is. My brother, also a natural, can look at a new sport from afar, jump in half-assed and be pretty good at it from the get-go. Me? I am more like my mom. I have to work really, really hard at something to make it stick. But I have a fierce determination that my brother doesn’t. He’s the sprinter. I run distance. While he could probably still beat me silly at a 100m sprint, he’d be done. I could keep going for another 5 miles or so.

My point is that I’ve never felt like I could be the athlete. (It is really ridiculous to feel this way, I recognize. I’ve been swimming regularly (minus 5 months in Cameroon sans pool) steadily since I was 4 or so.)  It is fun to surprise yourself, to change habits, to see yourself in a new way. And if this all happens right before you slide into your red dress before the lengthy list of holiday parties? Even better.

Have you ever surprised yourself with a new way of living? What did you do? How did it make you feel?

Cheers,

Kelli

P.S. There is a considerable lack of photos this week because I’m working on holiday projects. This will change pronto! Tonight — community dinner with gobs of food porn opportunities.

Christmas card making

More Portuguese sweet bread baking (although this time I ditched the raisins and instead added lemon zest. It was fantastic! I made the muffins for a potluck this afternoon and as a dry-run for Thanksgiving.)

A bit of sewing too. Market bags and new fabric (bunkeys!) for a Christmas project.

What I didn’t manage to photograph was the 7-mile run Saturday morning that left me lame most of the weekend. It was the brutal reminder I needed to: get off the treadmill and back outside for longer runs, clean up my diet and get out of my exercise rut. I’ve got my workout clothes ready for a 5-miler tomorrow and hope to start increasing my mileage to 20-25 a week. When I’m running that much I find my mind is more focused, I’m more emotionally even and I am much happier with the way my jeans fit. With turkey day around the corner, my new found enthusiasm for my Nikes is perfectly timed.

Hope your weekend was also fabulous, but that it moved considerably slower than mine.

~K

This truly is the week of focus. It’s working! Not only did I get that market bag done and wrapped, I started reading a new book for NaNoWriMo and got a fair amount of plotting done for novel #2 this morning. I did not, however, swim. I’ve got to do something to revive my zest for swimming. Getting up in the dark to haul myself to a pool that is regularly left uncovered, and is therefore freezing for this Arizona native, is getting old. I am considering rejoining my previous Masters team. The expense isn’t that big of a deal; I am a teensy bit worried it will take me a couple months to hang with the group. I am not swimming 3000 meters in an hour right now, more like 2000 in 40 minutes and calling it good. I am also worried about abandoning the few masters swimmers I coach at the Y. I don’t have a huge group, but they are dedicated and I get a good bit of feedback on the workouts I post. Oh, the silly things I’m pondering this week…

Additionally, I read this article yesterday and wow, does it make sense. Common sense, that is. Hope you are also finding the focus you need this week, even if it is just focusing on good television and a comfy spot on the couch.

~K

Dinner: spaghetti squash with sauteed veggies, tomato sauce and a tiny glass of red wine.

With enough left over to fill the new lunch box. I actually like spaghetti squash considerably more than spaghetti. I’ll take my carbs in bagel form, thankyouverymuch.

~K