Tag Archives: musings

The Perfection Misconception

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I think a lot of us struggle with the idea of what it means to be perfect. For me, I don’t necessarily attribute perfection to my physical appearance (okay, who am I kidding), but rather to how I am living my life. Am I exercising everyday? Am I eating well at every meal? Am I doing the work I need to do? Am I social enough? I tend to think that everyone else is doing everything right. Exercising 5 times a week, craving vegetables instead of chocolate, and being social butterflies.

I often measure myself against this image of perfection. When I start consistently exercising 5 times a week, then I will be perfect. Or rather, my life will be as it should. Until then, however, I have a lot to work on. When I go a day without eating chocolate, well then, I am a champion. Until then, every surrender to a chocolate craving, however small my indulgence might be, is a failure.

I’m realizing, however, that while I may have relinquished any sort of obsession with physical perfection, my idea of life perfection is pretty skewed. Because even though I think that everyone else has it right, they don’t.

Yes, we can strive to reach a certain goal. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a week where I consistently exercised! And if that happens, congratulations to me. But no longer do I think that such a feat will have marked a sort of “arrival” into the world of perfection. Because the next week may come and completely turn my routine upside down. Maybe I only exercise twice. But such weeks will no longer be seen as “failures,” or returns to the starting line. I so often think of a healthy lifestyle as a rocky mountain: either you make your way to the top with no slip-ups, or you fall down and have to start all over again.

But that’s not how it works. And I’m finally getting that. Crazy, right? It’s all about handling life as it comes to you. Doing the best you can. I’ve been pretty active the past few days and I’ve been fueling my body well. Fruits, veggies, and curried lentils galore. Minimal chocolate, surprisingly.

But today, I found myself craving chocolate. At lunchtime. So I made a bowl of chocolate peanut butter puppy chow (minus the powdered sugar), and a side bowl of some pineapple and watermelon. Sugary, yes. But delicious. And it wasn’t the start of any sort of binge. I finished lunch and went right back to what I was doing before I got hungry. And I know that at dinner, I’ll definitely be craving some kale. And even if I’m not, I’ll eat kale anyways, because I’ll need to load up on veggies for the day; my meals have been pretty fruit heavy lately. I could easily see my lunch decision as a failure, but I know that thinking that way isn’t going to help me progress in my quest for a healthier lifestyle. Instead, I choose to commend myself on limiting my intake of such foods by only eating them for lunch. I didn’t make them for a dessert and then keep eating them until dinner (has that happened before? uh…).

And while I did exercise today, it wasn’t how I thought it would be. I’m realizing that post-breakfast (after I’ve digested) is my ideal time to workout. Of course, not all of us have that luxury (I know you hate me, 9-5ers). But right now I do, and I’m going to take advantage of it.

This morning, however, I didn’t run out the door at 10 o’clock. I was actually finishing up some artwork that I was really excited about. I figured I would run later. As later in the day came, I wasn’t sure I would actually do it. I told myself it was only a 2-mile run and in my Vibram 5-fingers, which is always a treat for me. That thought made the idea of exercising less scary. And you know what? I did it. After a bunch of procrastinating on the computer, I finally realized that I had nothing left to do on the computer. No more procrastination options. And even though it was excruciatingly hot outside, I swiped on some Body Glide (my inner things are thanking the lord), turned on my iPod (my typical motivation technique), and headed out for two loops around my neighborhood. And when I got back, I hit the ground and beasted out some sit-ups and squats.

I find that once I establish some sort of consistency with exercise, even if I don’t keep up that consistency 100% of the time, I’m more likely to get back on the wagon than fall off for a few weeks. Especially now that I’m loving the side effects of consistent exercise. Weight loss, not really. But just a general feeling of being healthy. Getting your blood pumping. Releasing those endorphins. And working on your mean shorts tan.

I know that I’m living a charmed life over here, it being summer vacation and me working only a few days a week. And perhaps some of you are reading this and rolling your eyes, thinking that I am in no place to give advice because I don’t work a 40+ hour work week or have a family. And perhaps you’re right. But I’m taking my own realizations that I have found emerged from my own lifestyle and urging you to apply such a mentality to your own.

There is no such thing as perfect. Everyone has flaws, even that girl you see outside running everyday on your way home from work. We all have our own problems; they just manifest themselves in different ways. And we’re all just trying to live each day the best we can. And the best way we can do that is by accepting ourselves as we are, and not punishing ourselves for not living up to our image of perfection, whatever it may be.

So today, I have a task for you. Do something nice for yourself. Reward yourself (and I don’t mean by chowing down on a pint of Ben and Jerry’s) for all the effort you make in trying to be your best self. Go for a walk. Take a bath. Listen to some music. Cook your favorite dinner. Buy that shirt you’ve been obsessing over (if it’s on your budget… I’m not advocating shopaholism). Because you’re just trying to get through each day the best you can. That’s not a failure, nor a reason to punish yourself.

I, for one, got a pedicure. It was one of the incentives of my run today. “Go for a run, afterwards you can get a pedicure.” Yes, I’m doing it for myself, but also for the sake of mankind. My feet were/are disgusting. I brought my book, and I enjoyed every minute of that foot/calf massage. And those automatic massage chairs.

And yes, I did shave my legs just for the occasion. I feel so bad for whatever poor soul has to massage my hairy legs. It’s a situation that frequently happens. But no more. Today I was able to sit back and relax without constantly apologizing for my terrible idea of cleanliness.

So go out and have a “Treat Yo’Self Day.” Even if you don’t take an entire day, just try to find a way to do something nice for yourself. Even if it just means taking a moment to thank your body for doing so much for you, or congratulating yourself for something. Bring a little bit of positivity into your world.

Here’s some inspiration.

Finding the Happy Medium

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I feel like this past week has really encapsulated two opposite ends of the eating spectrum, if such a thing exists. I started off last week active and on with high hopes for my detox plans.

I ended the week bingeing on chocolate chips and finding little motivation to go running or do any other form of exercise.

Obviously, these two experiences are on such opposite ends of the spectrum that the only way to reconcile them in the future is by adhering to a happy medium.

I just need to figure out what that is.

I realize that I’m not happy at either end of the spectrum. Yes, I felt awesome doing the detox and I really started to see results  (less bloating, more energy, a svelte physique), but it didn’t leave me any room for error. I don’t regret doing it, especially since I didn’t go into it with a restrictive mindset; I was very aware that it would only be a two week experience. But while I was eating healthy whole foods, I was shirking mindfulness. Eating a salad full of protein and healthy fats is great for you, but when you get used to eating it in front of the television, it becomes less healthy. Because your brain no longer focuses on the experience at hand, the quintessential eating, but the television, which satisfies the brain with immediate visual pleasure. There’s no thought involved. It requires only one sense.

Eating, however, requires all 5. Try to argue with me on this, but I have some support. Sight to see what you’re eating. Smell to, well, smell what you’re eating. Taste to… that one’s obvious. Sound to hear our mouths break down the foods. (That explanation sounds kind of gross.) Touch to facilitate what we’re eating. OK, not suggesting we go ahead and play with our food… but unless we all eat snout-first like pigs (is anyone else thinking of Randy in A Christmas Story right now?), we need our hands to move the food from the plates to our mouths. When you eat while watching TV, the eating experience– that essential moment of nourishing our bodies with (most of the time) home cooked food– becomes secondary. Food becomes less important, and that balanced relationship between food and our bodies becomes nonexistent. It’s no wonder we’ll mindlessly eat dessert even though our bodies may already be full from dinner.

And that’s how I wound up on the other end of the spectrum. I guess you could say the bag of chocolate chips is what got me there, since I told myself I bought them to make some sort of dessert but knew deep down that I just wanted to endlessly eat chocolate chips for the heck of it. And I did make things, like raw cookie dough (raw like the raw diet, not raw eggs) or chocolate banana soft serve. But I made these to satisfy only one sense, the taste. I guess since I ate these in front of the TV, I was really satisfying two– sight and taste. But I certainly wasn’t making these to satisfy all five senses. And I knew that. When I toyed with the idea of enjoying dessert somewhere other than the TV room, the idea of dessert became a lot less appetizing. When I thought of sitting down and mindfully eating my bowl of banana soft serve, healthy as it may be, I didn’t want it anymore. But yet I made it, and I plopped down on the couch and watched TV.

So now you have a better idea of my past week. And yeah, running didn’t happen the past few days. Yesterday, yes. Today, yes. Only because I realize that I need to make a change, and no change happens without a little extra effort. I’ll write about my frustration with motivation to exercise another time.

I’ve been asking myself why, for two consecutive nights in a row (and after two mornings of vowing “never again”) I turned to some unnecessary and unworthy caloric creation (chocolate chip creation, to be specific) just to satisfy some weird craving that had been plaguing my brain. I didn’t think I was using food to supplement any part of my life that had been lacking, recently. I still keep in touch with friends, I still enjoy myself outside, I have a great family that loves and supports me.

I think it was fear. I was self-sabotaging myself because I was afraid of change. Of personal change. I was afraid that, after how healthy I had been with the detox, I would  finally start to leave all my food issues behind me and become a different– albeit healthier, and happier– version of myself. And I guess that scared me. While I have maintained a healthy diet and weight in the past, some hidden issues reared their ugly head and I found myself back where I started from. I think that I was afraid to move forward and put those demons behind me once and for all, because I would always worry that they would follow me. And how much easier to let them.

I think that’s why I kept pouring from that bag of chocolate chips. To be fair, that bag has not yet been depleted so I haven’t been doing any sort of disastrous bingeing. Or perhaps not even bingeing in the first place. And while I’m no psychiatrist, I think that fear is what caused me to keep heading into the kitchen, back to that chocolate chip bag, again and again. Fear of leaving behind my unhealthy relationship to food, fear that doing so would only invite failure in the future. Fear of living up to my full potential, fear of finally letting myself life life to its fullest, because deep down I would always have those demons, that potential failure lurking underneath.

But I’ve put a lot of those demons behind me. So all my fears are, pretty much, unbiased. I’ll always have an addiction to chocolate, but I won’t let it ruin my life. And any sort of effort I’m making to sabotage myself and my healthy eating is superficial. I’m just testing myself to see if I’ll overcome this challenge, and I let myself fail. I didn’t put up a fight.

But no more. I have so much to focus on in my life other than my past relationship with food. I have to much potential to live up to that I will not let myself get dragged down by these demons, imaginary or not. Nothing is easy, but success is worth it and feeling healthy and in control of my life and diet is ultimately more important than any unhealthy relationship with food I may have had in the past.

So here’s to the future, and a lifetime of happiness. Here’s to experiencing life in its fullest. Here’s to having a green smoothie and a cookie in the same day, and being okay with that. Here’s to overcoming our past and fulfilling our potential. Here’s to us!

I wish you all the very best in your own endeavors, and thank you endlessly for all of your support with mine!

About Time

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For those of you following the blog closely, you know that I returned to the States on May 22nd. And since it’s May 26th, I’ve obviously been home for a bit. But not blogging! The horror.

Like anything, I find it easy to forget something when it’s no longer a habit. The same goes for blogging. Last summer, I was fairly regular with my posts. This fall, the same. This spring? Ha.

So here I am at home. And it’s amazing to be back. It’s everything I thought it would be, and more. Honestly, it feels as if I never left. But my life at home now– compared to before– has radically changed. And I find it evidenced by my food choices.

Perhaps it had something to do with the vegan-nonvegan transition. Last summer, I spent most of the time at home mentally forcing myself to not raid the cupboard and make daily batches of vegan chocolate chip cookies. Hey, there are worse problems. But there was something about being home that wasn’t satisfying enough. I needed more out of life, and I looked for that satisfaction in food. Making it, eating it, what have you. Sweets, specifically. And I never thought I could be at home and not experience that constant draw to the kitchen cabinet, to the top shelf where the chocolate chips rest. Yes, I’m glad to be back in a country where there ARE chocolate chips, but I’m not welcoming them back into my mouth every second.

And that’s weird for me. Good, yes. In fact, it’s awesome, albeit the first time it’s happened. Because I’m a chocolate chip junkie. Mini hershey kisses man, come on! But this marks an exciting change–meh, occurence–in my life. It means that I am filling satisfied in all aspects of my life, and no longer need food to fill that void.

I attribute it to this past year. However many times I wanted to go home, the past 9 months in France was one of the biggest learning experiences of my life. I left my sophomore spring feeling lonely, isolated, and, though it wasn’t true, friendless. That was an idea I had created in my head, and I was sticking to it. But 9 months away made me realize that wasn’t true. And I can honestly say that spending 9 months away from friends–and bonding with those that were in Paris with me– actually did more for my friendships than when I was on campus. Obviously, I won’t be traveling across the globe every year just to test the strength of my friendships, but it’s a wonderfully reassuring thing to experience this feeling of fulfillment. And it’s not just my friendships. I think that coming home, after 9 months away, was the final piece of the puzzle.

I’m so excited to spend a lazy summer at home, baby/dog/cat/house-sitting and visiting friends in the Northeast.

I’ll be making some blog changes in the future, so stay tuned. Nothing drastic, but just a general re-evaluation of the blog after the direction it went in Paris, and perhaps some updated photos and links.

Not to mention a heck of a lot more cooking.

And Reflecting Back.

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I mentioned in my last post that I only thought it fair to make a list of everything I love– and will miss– about Paris– so here it is. It’s been a hard year, to be sure, but I’m also blessed to have spent it in such an amazing place. Only in Paris can you fix the worst day of your life with a nutella crêpe. Or munch on a hot baguette before dinner. Or… well, why don’t I just start the list already?

  1. Nutella crêpes. Anytime, anywhere. The best are when you find them for under 3 euro.
  2. Walking through the Jardin du Luxembourg on a sunny day.
  3. Sitting in the Jardin du Luxembourg on a sunny day.
  4. Crusty baguette sandwiches.
  5. Successfully navigating your way to your destination of choice. You’d be surprised, but it brings a huge sense of accomplishment!
  6. Thick, rich hot chocolate. My favorite is at Christian Constant, on a really cold day. Though Café de Flore wins for best atmosphere. (Hit up Angelina’s for the tourist fix, but the food won’t disappoint.)
  7. Running along the banks of the Seine.
  8. Walking down the street and realizing the Eiffel tower is right in full view.
  9. A pre-dinner apéritif at a sidewalk café with friends. Or alone.
  10. Walking home when everyone gets out of work… the “every french person carries a baguette” stereotype really comes into play.
  11. So many stores, everywhere. Nothing like sauntering around the 6th when you have nothing to do and just ducking into interesting stores.
  12. American solidarity… for the most part. If you have a fanny pack, I might ignore you.
  13. When the Eiffel Tower lights up, on the hour.
  14. Random sidewalk bands.
  15. Window shopping in the 6th, in the Marais, around Montmartre… anywhere.
  16. Decadent chocolate displays just in time for Christmas, Easter, you name it.
  17. Limited-time only desserts in boulangeries– like galettes des rois.
  18. The bursting sidewalk cafés on a warm evening.
  19. People watching at happy hour. Or any time.
  20. Crêpes on rue Mouffetard, specifically the huge ones at Chez Nico.
  21. Bonding with other Americans over shared experiences. In the states, everyone’s American. Nothing exciting there.
  22. Delicious smells wafting from neighborhood apartments around dinner time.
  23. The wide availability of baguettes. Like, on every corner.
  24. Croissant aux amandes. Pain au chocolats can eff off.
  25. The impressionists floor at Musée d’Orsay.
  26. The abundance of amazing restaurants no more than 30 minutes away.
  27. Chèvre chaud… no more explication needed.
  28. Accordéonistes on the bridges. Not in the metro. I will not miss those. But the ones on the bridge always make me feel like I’m walking in a movie scene.
  29. The hill on Rue de la Montagne Sainte-Geneviève where Midnight in Paris was filmed.m(“Woody Allen was here!!!!)
  30. Being in Paris.

It’s odd, as I got to the bottom of this list I became more and more sentimental. Sad, even. I did take about two weeks to think of everything on this list, but I have a feeling that I’ll come up with more and more things in the coming months. Months which are no longer “coming,” really, but just leaving.

As Ferris Bueller said, “Life moves pretty quickly. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.”

Le Semi-Marathon de Paris

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Today, Sunday March 11th, marks the one week anniversary of the Semi-Marathon de Paris, 2012.

At 10am last Sunday I was standing in a big crowd of people, anxiously waiting for the announcers to call my group (the 2 hour group) to the starting line.

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And before I knew it, we were off.

It was a good race, to be honest. At least, it is in my memory. Never have I given birth to a child, I ASSURE YOU, but I can’t help but think the experience is somewhat like childbirth. While you’re doing it, it is the most grueling thing of your life and you honestly think you could just stop and potentially keel over, but you keep going. And when you look back, you think it wasn’t so bad after all. And you think about doing it again. Next year, maybe.

If I adapt that timeline to my future child-birthing experiences, we’ll be in big trouble.

The race was hard. For quite a few reasons.

I wasn’t in the best shape. I’d trained pretty consistently for the past 3-4 months, but as the months advanced, I started to get burnt out with running– and stressed with work. So there were 2 long runs that I shirked in favor of more interesting things to do… like sleep and time spent with family. And while I don’t think those decisions made a huge difference at Race Day, I can’t help but think that they contributed. Plus, I focused more on just general mileage training instead of doing pace and tempo runs. My lack of speed workouts definitely added to the Race Day difficulty.

I didn’t have the best mentality. Going into a race, it’s important to be excited. I mean, why else would you have been running 10+ on Sunday mornings, simultaneously nursing a hangover, for the past 3-4 months? But towards the end of my training, I got burnt out. I’ve already mentioned that. Plus, I knew I’d be running it alone. No family at the end cheering me on. And all my friends had more important things to do. I’m not being passive aggressive, it’s true– I wouldn’t have wanted to subject anyone outside of a blood-relation to chasing me around Paris. So I wasn’t that excited for the experience. I just wanted to get it over with.

I’m pretty sure I was in the middle of a stomach bug. Ever since Saturday morning, I’d been having a hard time keeping food in me. I knew of a GI infection that had attacked a friend of mine, so I was worried I had the same issue. It was HORRIBLE. One often forgets how awful it feels to not keep anything in you. And I don’t mean throwing up, either. Yeah, that’s right. Other direction. My friend Gordon told me that night, as we ate Pink Flamingo pizza (my attempt at carbo-loading), that I was probably just nervous and I would be fine the next day. Well, I was. Until the end of the race. Ever seen that moment in the Sex and the City movie when Charlotte has the little accident? Well, I had the same feeling. Only I managed to hold it. There was actually one point where I swerved off the road in the direction of the woods because I didn’t think I could handle it, but my legs wouldn’t stop moving and my brain couldn’t think of anything else but the finish line.

Old running shoes. So I bought them in September. Early September. I probably need some new ones. I’ve been told one should change running shoes after ever 300-400 miles, or about ever 5-6 months. Depending on how much running you’re doing.  In retrospect, I’ve run a lot since I got those shoes, and I’ve been noticing signs of wear during runs leading up to the race. The shoes just left my feet feeling weird. And now, even though I’m only doing 2-3 miles at a time, I just notice weird little aches and pains here and there. I only have about 2 months left in Paris, however, so I’m going to wait to get new ones when I get home. They’re much less expensive there. And I’m not one to risk my physical health by trying to cut costs, but I just have visions of walking out of the local running store in West Hartford with a fresh new pair of Asics. Is it weird to say that it’s a favorite pasttime of mine?

The metric system. I’m used to thinking of half marathons as 13.1 miles. The French, however, think of half marathons as 21.1 kilometers. And since I’ve been tracking my training mileage in, well, miles, it was hard to mentally convert kilometers to miles. Though I certainly tried! (And that definitely helped take my mind off the race.) But it’s hard to know how much of the race you have completed when you don’t know the kilometer equivalent of 13.1 miles!

All in all, however, it was a good race. I finished it. I ran the entire time. I pushed myself. Really, what more could I ask for? Except for a mother and and aunt (and cousins!) waiting at the finish line with a car ready to take me to the Flying Biscuit Café. I was surprised by my time as well– it was much better than I expected or wanted! 2:09:51. 2 hours. 9 minutes. 51 seconds. I guarantee you (because I don’t remember exactly) that it’s almost exact, slighty after, or slightly before my previous half marathon time. WAHOO! That’s great! I was seriously expecting to come in at 2 hours 30 minutes. But like I said, I pushed myself. Had I been in better shape, and had I pushed myself the same extent, I can only imagine what my time would be!

Next year, perhaps?

Oh and about the whole pooping thing… while it didn’t happen during the race, it really and truly almost happened on Rue Saint-Jacques afterwards. It took an enormous amount of willpower and muscle (I’m being serious) to keep that from happening. Though they say that you’re not a real runner until you’ve pooped your pants!

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The Versatile Blogger Award

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I’m surprised people have still been reading my blog considering I’ve been absent for… ever? Well, since February 29th. But I’ve had absolutely no exciting posts, or at least– in my opinion– posts of any interesting subject matter.

So of course it surprised me when I saw Michelle, from Classic Confusion, had nominated me for the Versatile Blogger Award! I’ll happily accept the nomination, though I don’t quite think I’ve justified it in recent posts. But nevertheless, thank you to Michelle for continuing to visit the site and for nominating me.

(Also, question of blogging etiquette– is it taboo to use the blogger’s real name if she mentions it on her site, or should I stick to the blog name? So many life questions.)

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Apparently there are some rules for this award.

  1. Nominate fellow bloggers;
  2. Inform said bloggers about their nominations;
  3. Share 7 random things about yourself;
  4. Thank the blogger who nominated you; and
  5. Put the Versatile Blogger Award picture in your post.

I’d like to nominate Cassie, from Books & Bowel Movements. I don’t have that much time to browse the web (who am I kidding, all the time I do have is spent on facebook and pinterest), but when I do (when I venture from stalking pretty friends/pretty home designs), I find myself typing booksandbowelmovements into my search box… and Safari automatically finishes my sentence for me and takes me straight to Cassie’s site. She combines her love of books with other daily life happenings, including cooking and running! Always enjoyable to read, and I find myself learning so much just by scanning her recent posts.

Alright so… 7 random things about myself? Eh… here goes.

  1.  I played the tuba for 5 years. I’m pretty sure I still know how to play it… it’s hard to forget.
  2. I used to have a HUGE obsession with Tom Felton, the guy who played Draco Malfoy in the Harry Potter movies.
  3. I had a Legolas barbie doll. (and lunchbox…)
  4. Polar bears are my FAVORITE animal.
  5. Ah, to own a pair of Christian Louboutin red-soled heels…
  6. I was named Frances for 10 days before my parents changed my name to Louisa.
  7. When I’m bored, I look up apartments in San Francisco on craigslist. Really, whenever I want to procrastinate.

Happy beginning of March– it’s almost my birthday!

 

Why I Run

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I love to run. But lately, I’ve been doubting myself. Doubting how much I actually like to run. Maybe it’s the cold– I hate the cold. But I don’t like being a “fair-weather fan.” If I like to run, I should always like to run. (0 degree temperatures not included.)

This past week was very cold in Paris. It could have rivaled Clinton, NY, which is really saying something. It was impossible to walk outside and not get a headache immediately, or to even feel your fingers after 3 minutes– even if they were in very warm gloves.

So why on earth would I want to run in weather like this? I told myself that if I had a treadmill, I would run. But I didn’t have a treadmill. So I didn’t run. I got out, twice. But since I’m training for the Paris Semi-Marathon on March 4th, two runs a week doesn’t really cut it. Luckily, it was a taper week and I didn’t have to run as much as I thought I did, but still– I definitely slacked off. And I suffered a real identity crisis. I consider myself a runner. So… why do I not want to run?

Obviously, all runners have problems getting out the door. It’s one thing to think about going for a run, it’s another thing to change clothes (in a freezing house) and brave the freezing temperatures outside. But after I finally got myself out the door and did only half the mileage that I was intending to do, I knew I had to do some thinking. About myself, and about what I love to do: run.

This post is more for me than it is anyone else. But I had to get my thoughts out somewhere, and considering I have a blog, this seemed one of the better mediums. I’d also like to add that as I’m writing this, I’m happily awake after getting up at 7:30 and running 4 miles, eating breakfast, and showering. So I’m still on a runner’s high. And I hope that will influence this post in a positive way. Instead of self-doubting some of the things I write, I’ll have more conclusive answers– because after my run this morning, I know why I like to run. I guess I just had a hard time remembering. Probably from the cold.

1. Endorphins. I often get this word confused with Euphoria; I think that’s a good sign. There’s nothing better than finishing a run (that maybe you didn’t think you’d finish) and feeling this surge of happiness pumping through your veins.

2. The more you run, the better you’ll be. It’s directly proportional. And it will always be true. It’s a constant fact. If I feel like I’m having a hard time running, I start off slow… but I know that by that even by the end of that run, if not by the following week, I’ll feel more comfortable.

3. Pushing yourself. Surprising yourself with your ability. I used to run cross-country for the my last two years of high school, and there was nothing I loved more than races. I was always nervous beforehand (who wasn’t?) but during the race, the drive would kick in and I’d push myself more than I knew I was physically able.

4. Seeing people cheer you on along the race route– and at the finish line. No matter your running speed or experience, it always makes a difference knowing that you have people you love cheering you on and supporting you throughout the race– even if you don’t see them, you know they’re there!

(post-race brunch with southern cousins! couldn’t have asked for a better way to celebrate.)

 

5. Because I can. I know only too well what it’s like to not be able to run. After running the half-marathon in 2010, I developed a really bad knee problem after a killer session with my mom’s trainer. I felt like I was in the best shape of my life… but I couldn’t run more than one mile before I started to feel a slight pinching in my knee cap; in the next half mile, the pain would become unbearable. And this kept happening, like clockwork. I managed to heal whatever was going on with my knee with some help from an orthopedic doctor, but the sensation comes back every now and then. Still, I’m able to run so much more now, and I’m not going to make up stupid excuses for not running when I’m finally able to.

6. Because there are so many people that can’t. By that, I mean there are many who are physically unable to run; by running, it’s like I’m vowing to not take my legs for granted. If I’m able to use them, I can’t take that gift for granted.

I’m glad I wrote this post, because I’ve been making more of an effort to run lately (since 3 days ago when I started drafting this up). And everytime I run, it seems, I think of another reason that I’m glad I’m out in the freezing cold, running. So thanks for letting me get my thoughts out there, as I think sometimes that’s the whole point of blogging– not sharing our thoughts for other people, but for ourselves.

State of Bliss

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Ah, life is good. Just a quick post to say, well, exactly that. No, I don’t have any pictures or any exciting news (other than the fact that I moved host families). But I’m happy. Just blissfully happy. And that’s enough. Strangely, even the horribly awful grade that I got an exam yesterday (but like seriously, horribly awful) can’t phase me.

 

I am here, I am happy, and I have a stomach full of yummy things. Gratin de tomates et d’aubergines, simple green salads, and fava beans. Yes, I’ve already eaten the tiniest piece of chicken but life did not end and I’ve already talked about my attitude towards that whole deal. When I get home in late May/early June I am going on a vegan cooking/baking spree, bu for now, I’m just going with the flow.

Stay tuned in the next few days for some wicked posts about my adventures with my friend, Cordelia, who’s coming to visit– TOMORROW!

For now it’s time to go watch The Fantastic Mr. Fox (for the first time) while simulateously studying for vocab for my exam tomorrow. No judgment, I’m okay with it.

Finally There.

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For those who have been following the blog since my arrival in France, you’ll remember how many difficulties I had with my living situation. Food, isolation, etc. It just wasn’t working out. But I wasn’t able to change my situation immediately. In fact, I had to wait 2 months to do so. Though that was partly my choice– I had another option to move sooner, but it would have been to a similar situation– the past 2 months haven’t always been easy. My moving date got delayed. Twice.

But slowly, 7 weeks turned to 5 weeks, and 5 weeks turned to 3 weeks. And here I am, all packed and ready to leave tomorrow. I never thought I would get to this point. True, I’m not there yet, but I’m so close. Less than 24 hours.

I want to thank all of you who have been supporting me throughout this difficult time. It has meant so much to me to know that I have people thinking of me and sending me good vibes, all the way across the ocean. And even from right here in France! There was really a silver lining to the situation, and that was realizing I had a much bigger support system around me that I had ever thought.

Sending everyone so much happiness for the New Year. It’s bringing so many changes, already!

A Different Christmas

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I’ve always had a romantic image of Christmas, whether or not it may have been far from the reality of how we celebrated the day in suburban Connecticut. Christmas, as a child, brought with it Barbies, warm fires, chocolate crayons, hot chocolate with marshmallows, nutcrackers, sleds, and the excitement of putting up the Christmas tree ornaments.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve been forced to reconcile with the reality of the holiday. It’s not always possible to recreate that sense of childhood wonder that came unquestionably accompanied by the Christmas season. Thoughts of Santa and his magic reindeer have, unfortunately, faded with age. And yet despite myself, I feel a compulsion when December rolls around to have the quintessential Christmas. Such a requisite may or may not have been developed by yearly Martha Stewart Living Christmas magazines, boasting of easy holiday crafts and bedecked halls full of tasteful wreaths and garlands.

And then, of course, there are the Christmas treats. I’ve always possessed a fascination with gingerbread houses; such interest probably went hand-in-hand with the dollhouse that I had in the basement, but whatever the association, I loved the idea of an edible candy house. Mostly because I thought of a gingerbread house as essentially a candy platter, but such forays into the deconstruction of said house, brought on by bulldozing bites and curious fingers, always resulted in mother’s scoldings. I could never understand why someone wouldn’t want to eat all the necco wafers substituting as roof shingles. The chocolate ones are the best.

And then, of course, there are the other forms of sugar that make appearances around the holidays. Our family friend would always stop by with a tupperware container of fudge. Delicious, rich, creamy fudge. I think the entire afternoon that followed the anticipated drop-off was spent in a continuous cycle in and out of the kitchen, briefly– and silently– picking up the butter knife to cut just one more square of chocolately goodness. I’d always had good memories of that fudge, until my mother’s friend moved to California and I tried to recreate it myself. Somehow, after observing first-hand just what ingredients went into fudge– and consequently into my body– I’ve shied away from it.

Who can forget the crucial Christmas cookies? The thin, buttery sugar cookies decorated in beautiful holiday colors. The box of cookie cutters that mom would bring up from the basement triumphantly, and the subsequent unearthing of each shape like golden coins from a treasure chest. Angels, pine trees, stars, and candy canes; moose, sleighs, and dachsunds. Yes, we have dachsund cookie cutters. My former French babysitter– and a true French baker– stops by every Christmas with a plate of her delicious French butter cookies. In recent years, she has taken me under her wing in an attempt to impart the recipe– and it’s unusual, let me assure you– onto me. Try as I might, I can never get it just right. Though perhaps my standards for desserts are much lower than those of the French. Actually, I’m learning that’s true.

In recent years, I have taken on the role as the family Christmas Elf. I gave that title to myself. But after too many Christmases of coming home from school vacations and finding a dark, unlit, gloomy Christmas tree, I now take full responsibly for decorating the tree– and for motivating various family members who find themselves engrossed in video games to come and join me. Usually, it’s with the promise of cookies. Last year, I even made said family member (okay, who are we kidding, it’s my younger brother) string popcorn and cranberries.

Last year I also insisted on making vegan gingerbread houses, vegan fudge, vegan nutella, and chocolate Christmas bark.

This year, however, things are a little different. I find myself miles away from my family. Actually, on the other side of an ocean. While many of the group members awaited the upcoming winter vacation and their simultaneous entry back into the United States, I was mentally preparing myself for a Christmas in Paris, without my family. For various reasons, my family wasn’t able to come to Paris for Christmas, and I knew in my heart that if I went home, I’d have a really hard time going back. So here I stayed, in gay Paris, while my family spent Christmas back in Connecticut (great movie, actually, Christmas in Connecticut). And yes, I can confirm that the absence of the Christmas Elf definitely changed their holiday. I’m not sure there were any lights on the tree on Christmas Day.

I ended up spending Christmas weekend as a bit of a nomad, going in between two different family’s celebrations. My host family wasn’t exactly jazzed about the idea of me chilling at the apartment for the weekend (even though I would have been totally down with a solitary weekend of movie-watching and tofu-cooking to my heart’s content), so I had to rely on the goodness of friends, and their families, this holiday season. I spent Christmas Eve with one friend’s family, and then metro’d over to another’s, where I woke up on Christmas morning. Both families were so incredibly welcoming, and I give infinite thanks that I’ve had the opportunity of spending time with Jen and Emily this year– and this Christmas!

My mother even put together a present bag for me when she came to visit in November. Ok– I’d already opened up some of the presents, but there were still some to go on Christmas Eve.

I am so happy about everything I received this Christmas. Tea (a lot), a vintage Paris poster, some classic DVD’s (M*A*S*H is so good!), some tights, a great coffee table book on Paris pastries, some French magazines that I can’t wait to flip through, a sweet reusable bag, and a few other small things.

So yes, it’s been a different Christmas. But it’s been good in its own way, and I am so grateful for the family and friends who were able to share it with me, whether virtually or in real life.

And despite how different everything has been, I still managed to slip in some cookie baking. Stay tuned for a post!

 

 

Joyeux Noël à tout le monde… et Bonnes Fêtes!