He’s an absolute saint…he ran out to the store and came back with a couple of ribeyes. While he walked The Husky, I pan-seared them in some olive oil, salt, and pepper–about 3 1/2 minutes on each side–and called it good. So easy, but SO good:
He’s an absolute saint…he ran out to the store and came back with a couple of ribeyes. While he walked The Husky, I pan-seared them in some olive oil, salt, and pepper–about 3 1/2 minutes on each side–and called it good. So easy, but SO good:
Well, I didn’t feel like going all the way to the park (which is a whole mile from our house…don’t judge). So, we compromised and just did some Tabatas instead. Simple, fast, but oh, so schweaty…
1/2-mile run (around the block)
Tabata Push-ups
Tabata Squats
Tabata Sit-ups
Tabata Flutter Kicks
1/2-mile run
We were going to do burpees but I was in the mood for some abs-action (and let’s face it, burpees suck) so the flutter kicks were a last-minute addition. I’m pretty sure the neighbors thing we have issues since we were working out on the front lawn and making some not-so-discrete lunk noises.
As for today’s eats…
I’ve been working on a little something in the kitchen this week…One of the blogs I frequent featured an Apple Omelet yesterday and I was intrigued. If the thought of apples over eggs makes you want to dry-heave, never fear…the original recipe has an egg-and-flour base similar to a crepe, so what you get is basically a German apple pancake (staple of my childhood…oh, this was gonna happen).
I nixed the wheat flour, milk, and sugar and used coconut flour instead.
I’ve gotten better over the last few months about not weighing myself every day and I’ve accepted the fact that, if I keep working out to get stronger instead of skinnier and eating to fuel my performance instead of to diminish it, I’m going to (gasp!) put on some weight. It’s so painfully simple, but I like so many other women and girls was brought up in a world that put so much value in weighing so little.
Like anyone else, my weight has fluctuated almost daily though it managed to stay within the same 3-5 pound “window” for all of my adult life. Or it did until I stopped spending hours at a time on the trou chariot or the treadmill and started doing Crossfit and eating Primal/Paleo. Since then the scale has crept up about 5 pounds above my skinny-fat average, my quads are about a quarter of an inch bigger around, I have a four-pack (it’s a real six-pack, though, if I go about 48 hours without drinking any water…booyah!), and all of my clothes still fit just fine. Many of the athletes I admire so much–and even my own coach–have a good deal more weight than I do yet look great…no wait, AMAZING.
So why should I care? When I hopped on the scale this morning, I knew what the number would be! What got me was two things…1) That I’m still uber-insecure about being not only weighed and measured in front of a room full of people and having that weight recorded and entered into my personal records for the quarter, and 2) I have officially met my “panic weight.”
My “panic weight” has remained unchanged since I was about 14. It’s all of five pounds above my average weight (not a lot of wiggle room since I’m 5’8″), but was nevertheless the weight at which I would have officially considered myself “fat.” I’ve been at this weight before, but in all my noodly skinny-fat glory I did not look like I do now. I did not feel good. I did not have any abdominal definition, no matter how dehydrated I was. But then again, none of these things were really true at my “happy weight,” either.
Because I was never at my happy weight. My “happy weight” was always 5 pounds less than what I was, no matter how little. I could have weighed less than 100 pounds and I’d still have wanted to be less. Messed up? Sure. There’s nothing rational about my body image. At no point in my life have I ever been happy about how I looked.
But I am happy about how I feel. I’m proud of how much stronger I’ve gotten in such a short time. I feel like a goddamn idiot that it took less than twenty seconds to make me forget all of that completely, to step on a scale and read a number that means so little when you consider that I look, feel, and perform better than I have…possibly ever.
So is my “panic weight” obsolete? Should I actually be glad that I weigh more now despite being the same size? (Muscle weighs more than fat, right?) Even though I have a dramatically improved body composition, why does this number still mean so much to me?
Clearly my priorities need an update, but it’s hard. Really hard. Being able to stay on track without cutting and running from the gym (literally) and tossing every trace of dietary fat from my fridge is a daily struggle. When I put on my jeans and feel some new tightness in the legs–even though my old muffin top is no more–my heart skips a beat and my inner skinny girl screams in protest. Even taking a rest day involves planning and self-restraint.
But it’s further than I’ve ever gotten and even though I’m fighting a battle with my self-image and intuition, I’m still motivated by my recent success. I’m still so proud of myself for taking responsibility for my health, for pushing myself past where I’ve felt comfortable and “safe,” for being able to do things I couldn’t when I was skinny and malnourished (my 2-mile is as fast now running 6-12 miles a week as when I was running 55-60, and I can do pull-ups!!!!). So maybe my “panic weight” is a crock of sh*t, or maybe it’s not. But what I can tell you is that even though I sulked in my office for a good hour after the weigh-in, I’m not writing out low-fat meal plans for the next month. I didn’t take off on a marathon to sweat off the extra weight. And I didn’t for a second wish I could trade in what I’ve accomplished for those extra 5 pounds. I may not like this new number, but for once I’m going to give it a chance.
The solution? Carnitas…but instead of simmering and stirring in the stock pot for 3 hours, I wanted to see if it would work just as well in the slow cooker. Not only did it work, but it was delightful…even more tender than the stock pot version:
Pork Carnitas
It’s too easy to start eating more veggies and salads at every meal. I even eat salads for breakfast. But what of the creamy/vinegar-y/tangy toppers we know and love? Most commercial salad dressings are full of crap in all senses possible. Let’s take Hidden Valley Ranch dressing, a rich and delicious staple of my childhood. Oh, and they’ve got the cutest commercials…what’s not to love?
“Vegetable oil, egg yolk, sugar, salt, buttermilk, spices, garlic, onion, vinegar, phosphoric acid, xanthan gum, modified food starch, MSG, artificial flavors, disodium phosphate, sorbic acid, calcium disodium EDTA, disodium inosinate and disodium guanylate”
Um…yeah.
What’s more, even most “organic” or “all natural” dressings are full of some crazy sh*t, too. For our first Whole30, The Man and I scoured the aisles of Whole Foods in search of an acceptable salad dressing. Even the ones without ant crazy additives seemed to be canola or soy based…oy vey.
If you’re like The Man, you’d just throw your hands up and star eating your salads sans dressing and call it good. Me? I refuse to admit defeat. I know the guys over at Whole9 would probably be utterly disgusted with my inability to give up something so Neolithic as salad dressing, but what can I say? I just can’t palate raw greens without a little…something.
For the longest time, I would just toss some fresh-squeezed orange juice or balsamic (lemon juice is too sour for me) on my salads, then it was plain tahini or home-made baba ghanoush for a while…and they were all well and good but I’m the kind of person who appreciates options…which is why I’m sharing the next two recipes with you.
I may have mentioned The Man’s and my Sunday-yoga-followed-by-lunch-at-Whole-Foods habit. Whole Foods, despite its vegan agenda, has a pretty legit salad bar and I haven’t had a dressing I didn’t like. It kills me that you can’t buy their in-house dressings, but luckily they have all the ingredients right there on the labels for you to see. I was inspired by two of my favorites, tweaked them a little to make them Paleo-friendly, then made about a gallon’s worth of each through trial and error before I found the perfect combo.
Tahini-Date Dressing
10-12 Pitted Dates, chopped
2 c. Boiling Water
1/3 c. Rice Vinegar
3 T Nutritional Yeast
1 Garlic Clove
1 t grated fresh ginger
1 t black pepper
1/2 c. Tahini
Soak dates in boiling water for 15 minutes. Toss dates, 1 c. of the hot soaking liquid, and all other ingredients into a blender and blend on high until smooth. Makes about 2 1/2 cups of dressing.
Creamy Balsamic Dressing
10-12 Pitted Dates, chopped
2 c. Boiling Water
1 c. Balsamic Vinegar
3 T Nutritional Yeast
1 Garlic Clove
Soak dates in boiling water for 15 minutes. Toss dates, 1/4 c. of the hot soaking liquid, and all other ingredients into a blender and blend on high until smooth. Makes about 1 1/2 cups of dressing.
*Note: I save bottles and jars (from salsa, tomato sauce, etc) and keep my dressings in them. Recycle!
I’ll be posting a recipe later…it’s nothing special, just a new take on an old recipe, but I want to make sure this new version doesn’t suck before I publish it.
In the meantime, I cooked up some more chicken and eggs for the week, as well as some butternut squash. It’s so perfect for the fall. My breakfast for tomorrow is stupid with squash:
We got the idea from one of Mark Sisson’s posts a while back called The Tale of the Cat and the Crickets. I suppose it struck a chord with us because we do suffer the chronic guilt that comes with pet ownership whilst working the hours we do. While The Husky, at least, gets her daily walks (still not enough, I’m sure, for a doggie so naturally inclined to RUN), the cat lives exclusively indoors and has made a habit of spending a good deal of her time on the windowsill crying in agony as birds and bugs and rabbits and squirrels hop past in the yard.
My cats growing up were always outdoors cats–a luxury I took for granted in my rural upbringing. It turns out, though, that the “house cat” is a relatively new phenomenon. Cats are natural hunters that are best adapted to roam free, not spend day after day cooped up indoors with no natural prey except for shoelaces and toes under blankets. It doesn’t take a genius to know that poor Ms. Snugglebottom, like so many other cats, gets anxious and would so much rather be outside chasing those critters through the night like the wild little huntress she is.
The cat does get a fair amount of play time with The Husky…they’re a terrific pair and it never gets old watching a 7-pound tabby cat try to hamstring a dog almost 8 times her size. Leaving the two alone at home is enough to mute my conscience during our days at work, but this holiday weekend we were leaving the dog at a kennel in town…so instead of leaving the poor little kitty all by her lonesome for four days and praying she wouldn’t get so frustrated she’d take down the whole house, The Man ran over to PetsMart, shelled out a whole dollar and change, and came home with a round dozen of crickets…
We came home this afternoon and there wasn’t a trace of any crickets, living or dead, anywhere in the house. I’m assuming she ate them all, which would be great because I’m gonna be pissed if she just killed them all and hid them somewhere–like my bed–or if they just retreated somewhere hidden and started to breed…ick
I doubt it, though. In the article, the author mentions that his cat could hunt and eat a couple dozen per day. We’ll definitely be continuing the cricket hunts. It took her a minute or two to get her wits about her when they all scattered from the bag, but in no time at all our little lioness was on the prowel, chasing some under the couch, others along the baseboards and even behind a row of books.
It’s not exactly a forest full of natural prey, but we got a little closer. We made a happy kitty.
We got in safe and sound last night, headed to dinner with good times (and LOTS of food and wine) were had by all. Today I didn’t need to buy a whole lot but did get to spend some quality time with my Mom and Sister out and about.
I am so thankful that I was able to be here and spend the holidays with my family this year. Spending all last year away from my loved ones–and especially during the holidays–was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I am truly lucky to have these people in my life and I’ll never again take this time for granted.