Pilates a Go Go

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually like pilates.

I'm surprised because I do not do well in yoga -- two totally opposite yet equally terrible yoga experiences and I swore never to go back to a class -- and pilates certainly has elements of it. But although you get the stretching and some of the poses as in yoga, there's no Sanskrit 'n' shit in pilates. There's no kum bah yah, and no talking in a soft voice, and no bowing. And thus, I'll likely be back.

My month off of working out is almost over, so I did the pilates thing and I signed up for my first run-only race -- a mere 5k -- since 2006 (it was actually three years ago this weekend at the Bucktown 5k that I met my boyfriend, Brian, and the last run-only race I've done because of my knees. But I digress!). The run also involves hot chocolate, which may or may not have anything to do with it, but basically, I'm pumped and ready to get moving again. One month off -- save for a couple runs and one 30-mile bike ride --and I feel "squishy." I'm stiff! I'm not toned! And I don't want to lose any more of my base.

This month has taught me that you can take a month off and should take a month for your body to heal and without fear of losing everything. But it's also a reminder of how quickly stiff joints and a lazy attitude can set in -- it took me about two weeks.

I'm ready to go!

***
Speaking of being ready to go, I'm toying around with the idea of doing an Olympic distance triathlon this coming season -- that's double what I'm used to. It's terrifying considering I can't train well on the run. But, I've got the stamina to do the bike and the swim (what I did in the aquabike this year), and I figure I can suck up the run. We shall see.

Glimpse into Transition Area

Ever hear a triathlete talk about trying to improve their transition time? Or never heard the word transition in context of a triathlon to begin with? Here's a shot of the transition area -- post race -- of the Chicago Triathlon, which is pretty much the largest you're ever gonna get (9,000 people registered this year; by comparison, popular local races have about 600, 1,000 or 3,000).

"Chicago" was my first triathlon ever. These rows of bikes freaked the shit out of me before the race, and I wasn't particularly fond of them during the race either. I vowed to never do Chicago again (although for more reasons than that). Now it's one of my favorites.

Yours truly navigating Bangs' Lake Multisport Fesitval (I did the aquabike)

Transition is the place where triathletes go in between each leg of the race. It's where you throw your wetsuit after the swim and collect your bike and gear, and it's where you dump your bike gear and pick up your running shoes. No matter how big the race, transition always looks the same: rows and rows of bikes squeezed in like sardines.

Before the race -- usually before the sun rises -- you get to transition, find a place for your bike, and set up your gear around your tires. The entire space is not more than 2 feet wide.

So yes, everyone's gear -- thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars worth of equipment -- is all in one place. Pretty nuts, but the triathlete community is a safe one. Hopefully, it'll stay that way for a long time (some of you might recall my bad experience. I'm the lone example with bad luck, so why tell it and scare everyone off?).

What We Eat at Home

Here's a sample of some of the dinners Brian and I have cooked together. I really love cooking with him, even if he is learning to give up control in the kitchen. :) Brian's schtick is fancy dinners; he prefers to cook gourmet meals and does a great job at it. I'm the middle-of-the-week gal; I like doing simple, quick but tasty and homeade (or mostly homemade) meals. It works well.

Seared black peppercorn crusted tuna with avocado, tomato, mushroom salad tossed with crushed, dry ramen noodles

Heirloom tomatoes with basil, mozarella and a little olive oil

Chicken sauteed with garlic and onions; cous cous with paprika-sprinkled poblano, green and red peppers with onion

Mmmm, chicken sandwich

It's funny, because Brian used to think that because I don't do gourmet that I don't know how to cook. I've showed him. ;)

Girls' Night: The Menu

I'm having a girls' night next weekend and am kicking around menu ideas. Here's what I'm thinkin':

Apps:
Cheese and crackers
Lil' Smokies
Guacamole or hummus
Maybe some fruit

Main:
Veggie, beef and chicken shish kabobs
Cous Cous
Tomato, basil and mozarella salad

Dessert:
Cookie cake!
Root beer floats

And drinks, too. It has to be simple and accessible for crowd with a full range of food interests.

Ideas? Creativity? YES, PLEASE

I never told you how my first day of school turned out!

It was awesome.

I did worry about my clothes and the people and the instructor -- blah blah blah. But that evaporated quickly when I remembered I didn't care what people thought of me (well, within reason -- if I had bad breath, YES; if I as just being me, no) AND when I was reminded that the class was about ideas and creativity and brainstorming and all these things lacking in my career these days.

We did get a warning that our ideas will be crushed, our egos shredded. But that's OK. I'm up for a challenge that I like.

I don't know where this will lead and am not anticipating becoming a creative director right outta the program -- or at all. But it will be a good challenge and something new.

Bring it on.

Do They Have Brunch in College?

I made reservations for Sola for this Sunday, and because I'll be with my parents, I bypassed the brunch option; I want them to experience Sola's great dinner menu (try the tuna!). But it got me thinking about when the joy of brunch entered my life a few years back.

I know that's when the brunch crazy had settled in; prior to that I thought of brunch as some stuffy meal served awkwardly between breakfast and lunch in some hotel that charges a ridiculous amount of money for high-style Denny's breakfast buffet ("Do you have Moons Over My Hammy?" I would have inevitably asked if I had attended).

But you now know brunch as the best.thing.ever: a last fling before the weekend ends, late enough that no crawling out of bed takes place and the meal holds you over for most of the day. It's a perfect time to digest the two days prior or wake up slowly. (Eggs benedict, anyone?)

So my question: do they have this in college now? Or is it an old-person's deal? How amazing would college have been with brunch? (College Park, Md., first would have needed to get a decent restaurant back when I went, but I digress).

I'll investigate and let you know.

An Odd First Day of School

I don't write a lot about writing, but that's a big part of who I am. I've had experience writing everything from personal narrative to hard core news. I even tackled a children's book (still in the editing phase, but a draft is there).

At work -- I'm a managing editor for home building trade publications -- I write short articles; design features; a variety of online copy; and short, catchy blurbs that go into our TOC (table of contents) or on the cover. For the most part, it's been journalistic, nonfictional type stuff.

But lately, my interests is in information and -- gasp! -- promotional copy. Biased copy that is supposed to lure unsuspecting readers into my cause for structural insulated panels! Steer them to my link to free information from our Major Sponsor! Beckon them to register for an economics Webinar that will knock their socks off. 

And what really gets me going these days? Business reports. That's right: those documents that get passed to team leaders across the country who would rather be planning strategy are exciting to me.

In short, I'm crossing over to the dark side.

Don't get me wrong: I'm still able to produce journalistic writing and enjoy it at that. But the direction I'm headed is what I was trained to avoid. I can do it -- I pride myself on being able to write for whatever project's thrown to me -- but I'm not trained in it. I can't spout off marketing lingo. I question the terminology behind what I'm seeing and writing.

So I signed up for an advertising copywriting sequence of courses that includes marketing through Northwestern's School of Continuing Studies, and tonight's the first class. I'm nervous and leery for several reasons:

• I haven't been in school for seven years. A lot has changed. I know that kids these days bring laptops, but I really don't want to lug my 7 pounder to class. But will that decision designate me asan old-school, out-of-touch-with-technology fogey? Thank God I got Internet on my phone two weeks ago, I find myself saying aloud.
  
• I really don't want homework.
  
• I haven't received ANY information about ID cards, books, etc., and my digging around online has turned up zilch, too. I figure I'll show up on the first night, suss out the situation and get what I need tomorrow.
  
• I worry said approach is being lazy. Shouldn't I have physically gone to the bookstore? Called the admissions office? Back in day, I would have been on the phone asking all these questions in July, when I registered.
  
• I'm a different student now than I was in college, when only senior year did I realize I had been putting more effort into things than I needed (not to say it wasn't valuable -- just misdirected energy).
  

By the way, I sat down to write this blog as a means to procrastination: I've got a feature to write. At least I'm procrastinating by practicing my craft, right?

Good friends, good food, good times

Scene from the deck, Union Pier, Mich., Sept. 18

Birthdays Through the Years

I've previously mentioned loving my birthday because it's an opportunity to think about and appreciate my friends. These are people who treat me like gold. And what other way to test friendship than by having them take care of you while you're toasted?

As I celebrated my 29th birthday this year, I reminisced with my friend Cynthia about my 26th birthday party. We were laughing about incidents uppublishable here, but part of her story included her detail about taking the garbage out and trying to find the bin outside. Imagine, it's your friend's bday, you're in a houseful of people -- most who you don't know -- she's happily blitzed, and you're stuck with the garbage. That's a true friend.

But that's the least of it. That year Cynthia was part of a group that insisted on organizing a party that was my idea -- and that was the day after they kidnapped me for a night out on the town. It's one birthday of a series of awesome birthdays my friends have made me feel special. At minimum, every year I have a wall full of cards, phone calls, texts and emails remembering me. A few highlights:

28th: Twenty-something friends meet me at Piece restaurant and brewery in Wicker Park. We eat a lot, we drink a lot, and the night is capped off when my friend Tim, a kickass drummer in an amazing karaoke band, sings Oasis' "Don't Look Back in Anger" to me by substituting my name for "Sally." The entire bar claps and wishes me a birthday. I proceed to do shots with my friends and the band and fall asleep that night drunk and weepy -- tears of happiness.

26th: This is the aforementioned kdinapping and party. The first night, I thought I was going to a random gallery opening with my roommate Suzy and open the door to find two other friends, Laurie and Cynthia. I was blindfolded and brought to a tapast bar for a cocktail -- where I drank sangria with the blindfold on -- then driven to Batteries Not Included where I got to choose a toy. We ended the night at Corosh for pasta.

And that was the first night! The next day, Laurie, Suzy and Cynthia hosted a party I started to organize, complete with Comadena (Laurie's mom's amazing food) rigatoni and a three-tier cake.

23rd: Home from college, I end up with gastroenteritis and am forced to cancel a series of dinners with friends and families for an entire month. (I should mention that I found out I had the bug during a birthday night with Laurie out on the town; she proceeded to escort me the next day via ambulance to the hospital). But my friends insisted I celebrate: Jackie, Jennifer, Diane and Pete -- all good friends to this day from high school -- surprised me at my house, toasted with Gatorade and took me to a local jazz club. How nice is that?

21th: Oh, the memories. Senior Year college. A large but close group of friends from every year at Maryland and prior -- my best friend comes over from Georgetown and is my designated babysitter -- come to my apartment alcohol in tote (my goal was to have a full bar) and even some awesome gifts (blenders and more!) for some predrinking. Those who are old enough head to a local bar, Cornerstone, where I don't take long to hit the wall. A group proceeds to walk me back to my apartment where I spend a good time throwing up (with hair pulled back, thanks to friends); and while I'm indisposed, my awesome guy friends clean the kitchen and apartment. I pee on myself in my bed that night, but my best friend, Sabrina, cleans me up. I'm a mess, but I wake up hearing that the party was awesome and teary-eyed b/c I knew how much my friends took care of me.

20th, 19th, 18th: I'm surprised in some way -- a night at a comedy club, an organized dorm floor get together, my favorite cake (coconut), etc. -- by my roommates and friends.

Other memories:
19th: Sabrina treats me to the Melting Pot
Throughout high school: Locker decorations!
12th: Only two weeks into my new junior high school, a friend decorates my locker. How nice is that?

I know I'm failing to remember surprises, awesome gifts and touching phone calls of wishes. I didn't even mention my family get togethers. It's easy to see why I love my birthday. That's why I love to help people celebrate, too! I'm expecting next year to be a biggie -- after all, it will be the big 3-0. We'll see.

Icy Pop Grape: Misunderstood

It turns out I've been misjudging the authenticity of icy pops' grape flavor for 29 years.

I always equated that sugary-yet-tart pungent smell (and taste) with crap grape flavoring. Whatever the purple Red dye No. 5 equivalent is never did it for me. Same thing with grape jelly. It all seemed fake as a kid, and the smell and taste hasn't really won me over as an adult, even for nostaliga's sake.

But we're in southwest Michigan's Harbor Country -- specifically Union Pier -- and while taking advantage of stunning weather and miles of country roads on bike, we passed a few vineyards.

We might as well have been riding through a grape icy pop manufacturing plant. All these years, icy pops' "natural flavor" was spot on. Who knew?  Did the icy pop founders really work hard to match the smell of real grapes? I can picture them in product development meetings, pushing their R&D teams to match the scent of grapes off the vineyard.

Maybe that's not how it happened. Whatever it is: I apologize.

Shawn McClaine's Off to Vegas!

I just learned that Shawn McClaine -- executive chef of one of my favorite restaurants, Spring -- is branching off from his restaurant group and heading to Vegas to launch a restaurant called Sage in CityCenter. A waiter told me the news while we celebrated my birthday at Custom House last night (really good! 3.5 out of 5 Zs), although it was reported earlier in the month in the press. Good thing I went while he's still there.

I guess I'm OK with this, although the upscale restaurants I've been to in Vegas have never been as good as they're made out to be -- their original counterparts seem better.

Our waiter also noted this is Shawn's last week and that he'll retain Spring (although my boyfriend recalls he said he'd retain Spring AND Green Zebra). Hear my sigh of relief?. It all makes perfect sense: Custom House was his last restaurant to open in Chicago, and that was three years ago. He's clearly a success; I had been wondering why I hadn't heard anything recently.

Good luck to him, good luck to the new executive chefs who have to fill his shoes, and bummer for me, who can't get to Green Zebra before he leaves.

Happy Birthday to Me!

It's three days since my last blog post. I'm better, I'm well-fed and I'm now 29. Happy Birthday to me!

I love my birthday, and I love it even more the older I get. Some people shy away from their birthday and look at it as some doomesday countdown or something else terrible. I look at it as a perfect day to toast my kickass life. I have great friends! I have a great family! I have my health and am blessed with experiences that are the envy of some people out there. Why wouldn't I celebrate being me?

It sounds selfish, and maybe it is. Does my birthday enthusiasm have something to do with my being an only child? Maybe. It has nothing to do with getting gifts or special treatment. Life is too short, and I'm going to raise my glass to every year I'm around for it, gosh darnit.

I Know I'm Sick When ...

I don't want coffee in the morning.

I lose my appetite.

I'm ambivalent to what I eat.

Horrors! I'm a foodie!

I'm sick now -- I can't tell if it's a full out head cold, sinus infection or partial cold, too (I was really achey and overall tired the past couple days) -- and my eating habits are out of whack. Funny thing, I'm still probably eating more than most people do.

Here's hoping my cold (or whatever) is over with by Tuesday. We're off to Custom House, and I have a foodie crush on the chef -- Spring's Shaun McClain -- so I have to be ready and able!

Foodie Overload

I still feel gross.

It's been a week since my my boyfriend's family's Labor Day Extravaganza, and I can still taste each and every cream-cheese- and mayonaise-based dip as if I devoured it seconds ago. I may as well have bathed myself in hydrogenated oil; it might have been easier to wash off.

Instead, I gorged on an amazing lineup of food: Chess Squares; brownies; shrimp n grits; eggs, spinach and goat cheese with onions; fritos; cream cheese and Pickapepper sauce; shrimp boil ... the list goes on. And none of the food was face value; the brownies had a layer of Symphony chocolate bar at the bottom; the grits were cheesy; the onions sauteed in bacon fat. I can picture my taste buds drunkenly stumbling and eventually passing out from gluttony. I don't want to step on the scale.

I feel this way after this weekend every year. Labor Day with his family is pretty simple -- his parents, brother and sister's family all I've get together at a lake house in Arkansas to hang out, ride in a pontoon boat and eat. I vowed this year to only gain a pound that weekend, even though I know I won't weigh myself. I might actually be making up for it a bit because I've been sick the past few days and surely consumed less calories than normal.

Usually I can take a weekend and indulge -- I'm specifically thinking of our now annual trip to New Orleans' Jazz Fest that's filled with nothing but oh-so-tasty fat grams -- because I'm mid-season and therefore have a great metabolism and a regular, solid workout schedule. But Labor Day weekend follows the weekend of my last race, the Chicago Triathlon, which signals the start of September: my month off.

I've tried to maintain a constant stream of veggies. Honestly, I pry won't feel back to normal until I'm working out regularly again. Maybe that's my problem -- not the food.

Another Season Down, Almost Injury-Free

I found out today that I have ulnar neuritis. The name sounds a lot worse than it is, but basically the nerve that runs on the outside of my arm from my elbow to wrist has been aggravated, and I need to rest it. It's a common sport injury from tennis, cycling and swimming. I do two of the three.

The good news is that it isn't painful, per se, but it does make the top of my wrist, fingers and forearm tingle and ache. When you're a writer like me or finishing up a triathlon season, like I was when the problem started, it's hard to rest it.

The timing is good, b/c I go easy in September, but it's bad b/c I'd really like to be able to get outside more for fun rather than just quit altogether. I don't have to go cold turkey, but if I want to jump back into a routine in October, I need to lay off. I need exercise to keep me happy, so this'll be a challenge.

Most athletes get injuries of some sort much worse than mine, and I'm amazed that they're able to push as hard as they do until something does pop up. I don't consider myself a die-hard athelete. I do work out regularly and push myself, but I'm not going hard-core distances. I'm above the casual athelete but not much more serious.

I feel like as soon as I get into something and push myself, my body reminds me that it's just not cut out for going hard. When I got into running faster and farther -- up to 5 miles regularly -- that's when my knees freaked out. Even physical therapy and strengthening my muscles didn't cure me enough. I basically can run 3 miles with minimal pain.

When I cycle, I'm cardiovascularly able to go farther than I do. But then my knees kick in and remind it's time to take it easy.

If I swim too much, no matter how much or what variety of stretching I do, I start to get muscle damage.

So I feel stuck in this range, with improvement in going harder but for shorter periods, or going longer but not as hard. Can't do both. I'd love to be able to train for an Olympic Distance triathlon, but considering the small increments I'm able to push myself, it seems like it would be more painful than fun. And it's always supposed to be fun, right?

But I'll try! I'll keep at it. And in the meantime, I'll rest up. Gotta listen to my body to stay injury-free.

Time for a Run

It's been four days since I finished my last triathlon of the season, and I need exercise.

I vowed I'd take a break.

I promised to let my body heal.

I'm going for a run.

Two Years Later, My Love for Spring Continues

Two years ago this month, my boyfriend took me to Spring for my birthday. We had been dating for just over six months at that point, and I had only been to a couple nice restaurants prior -- Blackbird for his birthday, and Hopleaf in Andersonville as a thank you dinner to me -- so although I had some great comparisons, I didn't really know food too well. Nice restaurants still made me nervous, and while I loved the different foods and combinations I was putting in my mouth, I didn't know why I loved them. I lacked the vocabulary, repeating after each bite, "I really love this," and "That's so good." Spring set a standard in my newbie foodie head, even if I couldn't explain what that standard was.

We went last night with Brian's aunt, and Spring is still amazing, right up there in my Top 3 as always. The staff are still warm and incredibly helpful, and everything tasted like heaven to me. I wasn't crazy back in 2007. I wasn't in a haze of fine dining, the kind that can overpower anyone not used to eating in a higher end restaurant. As of 2009, Spring really is that good.

The staff hit the spot. They're still unpretentious and low-key, and they're able to talk about anything on the menu. If you say, "I'm debating between the tenderloin and the scallops," they don't respond, "Well, it depends on what you're in the mood for. Those are so different." No shit Sherlock. Spring staff go into the finer details of what's not listed on the menu. And they're attentive.

I had grilled octopus in a creme fraiche for a starter and the scallops and oxtail for my main. Both fish were cooked perfectly, and the flavors played off one another really well. Scallops and ox tail? It works, trust me. I sampled my boyfriend's and his aunt's food, and it was equally tasty. Our dessert -- panna cotta with ginger sorbet, and an almond cake with cherry sorbet - knocked our socks off. I was thrilled the chef still offers a basil hot chocolate end-of-meal chaser, served in the same cute cups as the chef's tasting potato curry soup (definitely bowl-worthy).

I'm proud to announce Spring still ties three ways for my top restaurants. )The other two: Schwa here in Chicago and Bayona in New Orleans.)

In Defense of Yellowtail

My coworker just called Yellowtail one of the "worst wines you could possibly drink." The Dissing coworker just couldn’t understand why someone wouldn’t spend $3 to get a nicer bottle of wine.

I had to chime in on behalf of the brand: if you’re not a wino and can deal without analyzing the details of a wine, Yellowtail will do you good. So wine snobs, back off.

Are you going to have a conversation about it’s color, aroma and flavors? No. Would I recommend Yellowtail if you’re cooking a gourmet dinner? No. But in all other cases, Yellowtail is a sure bet to be smooth and balanced. I love opening it in the middle of the week. If I don’t finish the bottle in a day or so – likely – the $5.99 to $7.99 pricetag won’t leave me feeling guilty.

My coworker’s right: you cold drop $5 more and maybe upgrade, but b/c there are still a decent number of crappy wines in the $12 range, and you still have to know what you’re doing. And that’s fine! I've had my share of beautiful wines in all types of price ranges, and when chosen well, they have their time and place. For those of us who don’t want to think about it, though, Yellowtail is great.

Sometimes you’ve just got to defend those sure things. Yellowtail is one of ‘em.

The Eating Commences!

Some people worry about gaining weight over the holidays. For me, I fear the pounds of September.

As of today, I'm no longer working out on a set schedule and won't be working out, period, for at least a couple weeks -- it's part of my body's recovery period after my last race of the season (Sunday's Chicago Triathlon -- see post-race party celebratory burger at right). That means I have to get used to eating less because I'll be burning fewer calories, all while wanting to indulge because of several key end-of-summer events: my boyfriend, Brian's, birthday; his brother's birthday; a family Labor Day weekend filled with mayonaise and cream cheese-based dips; my birthday; and a weekend away with friends in Michigan. Did I mention we're all foodies? When we eat, we do it right.

I'm aiming to gain no more than 2 pounds this month. The challenge is on!