Tag Archives: Primal

Bike Rides. Pumpkin Curry. Period. Cultural Studies.

Bike Ride

When we left school today to walk the quarter mile to our cars, I almost had Lisa, my friend and colleague, pinch me, because it’s January 30 and the temperature was hovering nicely around 50 degrees. The sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, and the air just smelled joyful and springlike. I felt like running and playing, but since I had just run on Saturday night, I thought I’d play it safe by taking my dogs for a walk. We walked down to the dam, where I like to watch the water spill over, and where the dogs like to sniff things and pee on the concrete wall that separates the road from the water.We lingered there for a bit enjoying the weather and the majesty of the water before heading home.

When we got home, I brought the dogs inside to play for a bit, but I was feeling antsy, like I didn’t quite want to settle in for the night, so I decided to go for a bike ride. I rode down the White River Greenway to Jackson Street, staying on the pavement the entire time. As I turned off of Jackson back onto the Cardinal Greenway, I got a little adventurous notion—probably a side effect of the paleo lifestyle, I mean who doesn’t like to play?—and I cut off the path to ride cyclo-cross style (on my mountain bike) back along the river bank, stopping only to carry my bike across two railroad tracks. While I realize this little side trip off the asphalt isn’t that adventurous, riding on private property along the river is not my usual bike trip.

I always see this group of guys—and, yes, they are all guys—riding along the river bank at night, wearing headlamps. They always look like they are having such fun. I think they are the same guys who practice their cyclo-cross skills by riding in circles around the trees in the field at Minnetrista. The riding in circles is a little odd, but I can see how liberating it is to ride near the river in the grass. I may even give the circle riding a whirl! Even that little bit of transgression against the societal norm here in Muncie makes the world seem like a little bit better of a place. A little less restrictive and a bit more free. Maybe once I get in better shape, I can join them sometime. They have to be some kind of Ball State club. Maybe I’ll check into it.

Pumpkin Curry

During the fall and winter, I can’t resist a good, hearty soup, stew, or chowder. Tonight for dinner, Bec and I had Creamy Pumpkin Curry. The soup/curry was amazing just like the recipe is written, but when I make it again, I plan to halve the amount of shrimp to one pound and add in some fish chunks for a bit of variety. I may also add in some kale for a little bitterness to offset the sweetness of the pumpkin. I found that since I eat very little sugar these days, things like pumpkin taste really sweet to me, particularly when paired with coconut and spices like coriander. Don’t get me wrong: the soup was amazing like it was. I just like to experiment, and I needed one more layer of flavor to dilute the pumpkin-sweetness.

Period: Yes, That Period.

I was beginning to feel sorry for myself because I hadn’t lost any weight this week and because I was having all these cravings for sweet things the past couple of days. Then I realized that I am supposed to start my period soon, and that means all bets for normalcy are off. I must say, though, that being paleo has really cut down on the PMS and mood swings I typically experience during this week. In fact, had it not been for the constant craving for ice cream this week (coupled with not losing weight) and my new-found obsession with writing everything down including the days of my menstrual cycles, I wouldn’t have even realized that this was the week before my period.

I wonder if other people have the same experience with paleo living and their menstrual cycles or if it’s just me. I can only assume this is yet another excellent bonus of living this lifestyle, though I am unsure if my non-angst-riddled pre-menstrual mental health can be contributed to diet or to my general physical well-being and differentiated exercise routine. Either way, I’ll take it.

Cultural Studies

I’ve decided to take a new approach to teaching my high school literature class, particularly the modernism section that we are heading into right now. For some reason, Modernist literature seems like the most difficult genre/time period for my students to understand. This could be because of my own apprehension at defining Modernism, or it might be because of their own inability to understand that historical period. They seem to get tripped up on what that time period really entails historically. They know the wars and some of the industrial situations, but as far the rest of the cultural milieu of the early 1900s, they are at a loss.

I decided to fix this difficulty this year by having them do some historical/cultural situation of events in the time period. For tomorrow, each student will come to class with a newspaper article from 1890-1935, one that was written then, not about then. They will use these articles as background knowledge for the texts we’ll read. To choose from, I gave them topics, such as fashion, industry, war, science, psychology, agriculture, music, art, and politics. I hope they come in with a broad range of “current” events to discuss, and I hope they have lots to say about their articles and what those articles tell us about the Modernist time period and the few years leading up to it. We’ll see how this works out, and I’ll keep you apprised.

Winter Trail Run. Frittata. Swimming and Grading.

Winter Trail Quarter Marathon

Last night I ran my first race of the year, the Planet Adventure Trail Quarter Marathon. It was 4.55 dark miles of pure bliss and 2 miles of hell, but the whole 6.55 miles was an amazing experience I’d sign up for again and again. After the first two miles, one of which snaked along an icy narrow trail on the edge of the Eagle Creek Reservoir—and I mean right on the edge, one misstep and you’re in the drink, down an eight or ten foot drop—I got into my groove and thought to myself, This isn’t so bad. I will kick this race’s behind.

Little did I know that mile three would be one of the most spiritually beautiful, yet one of the most physically grueling miles I’d ever run. I had heard some other runners talking before the race about running across a land bridge between the two lakes and was pretty excited about that prospect. However, I had no idea that the land bridge would be covered in railroad rocks, the big jagged pieces of limestone that had nothing better in mind than to macerate the bottoms of my feet with their pointy little edges. My VFFs, though they performed amazingly well throughout the rest of the trail, were no match for those tiny torture devices. In short, I walked the almost mile across the reservoir to keep from making hamburger of the bottoms of my feet, and they still bruised a bit. While I was walking—and stubbornly sometimes jogging—along the land bridge, I turned off my headlamp and relished the pitch blackness. It doesn’t get pitch black by my house, and I can’t see the stars for all the streetlamps. So I was in awe when I discovered the heavens were arrayed in their full glory, and I could see Orion and the Big Dipper, along with all of their individual stars. I walked along worshiping, meditating, and feeling blessed.

I can’t capture in words how majestic it was to be moving along between two bodies of water, under the beautiful night sky, with my breath steaming out in rhythmic puffs, and my body reveling in the physicality of the experience. Just when I thought I couldn’t feel more joyful, I looked up around the shore, and I realized I could see the headlamps of everyone who was running the race bobbing along the trail circumnavigating the water. At that moment, I gained a better understanding of what humanity is, and I was overwhelmed by the feeling. I got a lump in my throat that could only be an Emersonian revelation that we are all one. Though we are many individual people, we are one humanity, and every one of our hearts vibrates to the same iron string. I tried hard not to let the water come into my eyes, because I was afraid it would freeze. But I couldn’t help it. Surely that must be what life is all about. Beauty, grace, joy, and camaraderie.

Once the land bridge ended, we were off and running on a wide road, which eventually headed into a double-track trail for most of the rest of the race. I much prefer double- or triple-track trails to single-track. The single-track trails make me very self-conscious about being a slow runner, and I feel like I have to move over for the faster runners to get by. I swear my times would be better if I could just get over moving over and let the speed demons figure out how to get around me. I don’t suppose that’d make anyone happy though. And since I am not competitive, running for fun than times, I will probably continue to move over so they can get by. Some even say thank you.

Everything was moving along fine until mile six, which was just pure hell. I would say a good half to three-quarters of mile six was just mud. A thick, goopey, cold, muddy hell. There was nothing majestic about mile six. Although I am sure there is some good theological metaphor buried there beneath the dark, wet dirt.  In spots, the mud was up past my ankles, and we just had to make do. My VFFs were two to three times their normal size and weight, and I am not sure if my favorite (a.k.a LUCKY) socks will ever be the same color they once were. So much for white and rainbow. Running this mile reminded me of running the Mudathlon, only the weather was slightly, okay drastically, colder and more oppressive. I thought at one point when I stepped in a puddle up to mid-calf that my toes on my left foot were just going to freeze off, but I kept running and they eventually warmed up.

Luckily I didn’t fall at all. I blame my ability to stay upright on all the recent plank work I’ve been doing. I saw a guy slip on the ice on the narrow, treacherous path and  nearly slide into the reservoir, save for grabbing onto the tree that happened to be next to him. My friend Teresa—who had planned to run the half marathon, but stopped after the first ridiculous lap—fell three times. She was covered in mud, wet, cold, and miserable enough to stop. We both agreed this race was one of the most difficult we’d ever done. Even though it was ridiculous, it was amazing, and I’ll likely do it again next year.

My Finisher's Medal: Made From a Fallen Tree at Eagle Creek

Sunday Morning Frittata

This morning, because I was starving from my workout last night, I decided to try a new recipe. I won’t try it again in the same pan I used today, because it stuck like glue, so if you try this one, make sure to use a very nonstick pan. Aside from sticking, it was pretty tasty. I’ll probably add some onions and some garlic next time, too.

10 eggs
a bunch of spinach
a bunch of mushrooms
6 slices of bacon
a splash of heavy cream
a bit of butter if necessary
salt and pepper to taste

Fry the bacon to your likeness. Remove from pan and crunch it up. If you need a little extra grease, add some butter and then saute the mushrooms. While they are doing their thing, whisk together the eggs, salt and pepper, and the splash of cream. When your mushrooms are the way you like them, add in the spinach and bacon, then pour the eggs in on top of them. Cook at medium-low, or low, heat until the eggs are done all the way through. I put the lid on for part of the time, because I think it makes the eggs fluffier.

Deliciously Eggy

Swimming and Grading

Later today, I am going to swimming at Ball Pool where I finally have a locker, so I don’t have to lug all of my stuff back and forth with me every day. I need to work out my sore muscles, so I can sleep better tonight. (And I probably won’t drink three or four cups of caffeinated coffee right before trying to go to bed, like I did last night. Dumb.) I find that swimming, especially in the warm waters of Ball Pool, really helps my mood, my blood pressure, and my fatigued, old body. I am hoping that today it will loosen up my back, which is a little tense from running up and down those slick and muddy/icy hills. I know it will relax my mind and prepare me to grade.

After swimming, I am going to Starbucks for the great grade-a-thon. My high schoolers have turned in two reflections and a couple of other assignments, so I need to get them graded and returned to them. Likewise, I am sure my 8th graders would love to have their book reviews back. They were supposed to be their last grade for first semester, which ended two weeks ago, but they are going to be their first grade for this semester instead. They are gracious. They don’t mind my getting a little behind. Besides, they’re too busy reading Anthem to care about their old papers.

How It Must Have Sucked to Be Jacob! Hunter Stew. And Homecoming.

Bible reading for today: Genesis 28-30, Matthew 8

As I read the familiar story of Jacob this morning, all I could think about was how much it must have sucked to be Jacob. I can’t imagine working for seven years for a beautiful wife, and then being saddled first with her freaky-eyed sister. And then to have to turn around and work for seven more years to earn the pleasure of the beautiful wife. I have to admit that if I had been Jacob, I’d have taken Rachel and run. I don’t have much patience in that regard.

It’s funny how when I was growing up, I remember hearing the story as Jacob working for seven years to get Rachel, but then Laban tricked him and gave him Leah. Then he had to work seven more years in order to get Rachel. In other words, he was stuck for seven years sleeping with a woman he didn’t love while working all day to purchase the woman he did love. The actual story is that he is given Leah, asked to finish his “bridal week” with her, and then immediately given Rachel. And if you’re Leah, this story is even more heart-breaking. Here you are with freaky eyes, being given to a man who doesn’t want you, being asked to finish out a “bridal week” with him, all the while you know he’s fantasizing about your sister?! What the hell?

I remember distinctly, when Genesis 29 came up in our Sunday School rotation, questioning how this particular story related to my Christian life. I think I was in middle school or high school when I asked what I was supposed to learn from it. I was probably waved off or given some kind of inadequate answer. I think now, from an adult perspective, I can see that it boils down to a Rolling Stones song title, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” True story, my friends, you can’t always get what you want, but if you’re Jacob, in this instance, I suppose you get what you need.

Seriously, I am sure there is some deeper theological meaning behind this story, and we know that out of this chaos and with a few children had by handmaidens comes the Twelve Tribes of Israel. After the small issues of jealousy and a little treachery, Leah, Zilpah, Rachel, and Bilhah gave birth to lots of boy children. The youngest of whom is Joseph, the deliverer of his family from famine. And, I suppose this is a huge lesson in grace. Jacob didn’t cut and run, like I would have. He patiently worked for the love of his life.

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Best stew ever:

1 pound of beef, some butter, four strips of bacon, one big onion, two cups of carrots, four cups of cabbage, three apples, 4 cups of beef broth, a bit of salt, a polish sausage

First: In a big pot, cook the bacon, which you’ve cut into 1-inch squares. Remove the bacon from the pot but leave the grease, and add the butter. Brown the beef, which you’ve cut into 1-inch cubes. Add the onion, which you’ve chopped, and the apples, which you’ve also chopped. Cook for a bit, then add the beef broth and let it all simmer for an hour and 30 minutes.

Second: Add in the carrots and the polish sausage and simmer for 20 minutes.

Third: Add in the cabbage and the bacon, which you removed earlier. Cook for another 10 minutes or until the cabbage is tender.

Last: Eat it because it’s delicious.

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This week at school is homecoming week. Let’s just say I have almost as much school spirit being a teacher as I had being a high school student. Next to none. Woot.