If you've been running in races since the sixth grade, shit happens...literally.
5. I took a year and a half off from running between senior year of high school and spring of freshman year at Colby because of IT band problems...in this time, the most exercise I did was walking from my house to school. When I started running again in January of 2001, I found that I had, surprise, lost all fitness. My first race back, I got dead last in the 400...by five seconds. Five seconds in the 400 meter race is equivalent to at least ten minutes behind in a mile race. It was pitiful and embarrassing.
4. Again, freshman year of college. I attempted to triple jump as I had in middle school and high school. The bounding drills caused me to get incredibly painful shin splints so I would have to pull a "seagull on hot sand": shifting my weight from one leg to the other and then back again. The pain was particularly acute at one indoor meet, so I decided to take some ibuprofen. Well of course the regular dose was not enough...20 pills later I was feeling a bit loopy. At the end of the meet, I jump onto the bus and am ready to head back to Colby. One by one my teammates climb onto the bus and say, "Whose Colby sweatshirt is this?" "Whose Colby tank top is this" "Did someone leave their spikes on the risers" "Who left their Colby sports bra by the track." I embarrassingly kept raising up my hand. Whoops. In total, I had left ~20 items of clothing strewn about the track. It's a wonder that I was still fully clothed. Chalk it up to dehydration. Chalk it up to ibuprofen overdose. Whatever. That earned me the title (and end of season award) for "I-took-so-much-ibuprofen-I-left-all-my-shit-at-the-track-and-apparently-my-brain-too." Definitely felt a bit sheepish after that and stopped triple jumping. NB, my other end of season awards included "The Prime Rib" Award (I'm particularly fond/proud of that one) and the "Full-Body Spandex Suit" Award (let me know if you want to hear about that).
3. Sophomore year of college. I was at a race at Tufts and wicked excited because my whole family was coming out to watch. Before the race, my mom was standing next to me and helping me to take off my warm up clothes. Once down to my race tank and underwear bottom, my mom gives me a good look up and down, smiling in support..until her gaze rests on my neck. Instantly her eyes narrow and her smile transforms into a grimace. "What is THAT?" she barked. "What?" "You have a hickey on your neck! I can't believe it. Don't let your father see this." My hand automatically shoots up to try to cover the evidence. But what are we kidding, you can't hide anything in my skimpy track uniform. I then had to walk proud over to the start line to greet my coaches and teammates. Apparently my mom was correct, my boyfriend must have gotten a little too frisky before the meet, and left a nice love bite for all to see. And everybody did see it. Nice. My sprint coach laughed, my head coach raised her eyebrows, and at least my teammate threw up her hand to give me a high five.
2. In the eighth grade I was an awesome distance runner. I often placed first by a minute or two. At the end of the cross country season, we had a big state meet at Pingree School in Ma. Kids from all over MA were competing in this meet = more competition = more pre-race jitters for Nina. The first half of the race went very smoothly, I was in a solid standing in the top ten and was feeling smooth. Little by little however, I became aware that I had to go to the bathroom...and not just pee, but a full on number two. The race was only 3.1 miles, so I figured I would just hold it in. Unfortunately, after five minutes of holding it in, I started to get sharp pains in the ol' GI tract, pains that turned to stabbings. I had a choice. Pull over to a Jiffy John and lose precious time. Or relax. I mean really relax. Ha. I chose the latter option and just let it go. The results were twofold. On the one hand, pooping in your race bloomers is obviously disgusting. What if some came out and I left a trail of droppings? Oh God. And then there's the stewing. Ah, yes, yuck. But on the other hand, I got rid of the pains, I felt light and smooth again. I was able to kick it in and get 8th place (and a nice little trophy). The embarrassing part was not just the act of defecating in my shorts; the embarrassing part came afterwards when everyone came up to congratulate me. I had to make an excuse and high tail it to the Jiffy Johns (finally) and clean myself up as best I could. Wow. I was pretty committed/insane even back in the 8th grade.
1. Most embarrassing moment ever. May 5, 2007. Broad St 10 mile race. In the two weeks leading up to the race, I had been suffering from a bad case of bronchitis: coughing, wheezing, fevers. Obviously this is not a good way to prepare for a race. I was feeling better by race day and felt compelled to do it because my Dad comes down every year to do it; it's a special event that we share together (though we don't actually run it together). That year my running buddy Melissa and I were running it together. Things were going well at an 8 min/mile pace for the first 7 miles. Around mile 7.5 however, the consequences of the illness started to rear their ugly heads. I got a case of brick legs and my tummy started to act up and I start coughing lots of nice balls of phlegm. Fun fun. I was determined to just keep going, so I threw back some Gatorade and put one foot in front of the other. By the last 200 meters I was feeling like complete crap and my stomach was definitely having a bad reaction to the orange Gatorade. 100 meter mark comes into view and I realize that I'm not going to make it...not going to make it in the sense that I had to pull over and puke on the sidelines. This is unfortunately not the most embarrassing part. Melissa tugs at my hand and says, "Come on, Nina, let's just finish this. It's right over there." Me being masochistic, stupid, stubborn, easily goaded--however you'd like to describe it--totally let her pull me in. I hadn't gone more than 50 meters when I got that queasy feeling again. And oh man, in the last 100 meters, of course the street is jam packed with spectators and worse, CAMERAS. That's right film and video. I'm pleading with myself, "Please, please, please, not now. Not here!" I think that I'm in the clear when I reach two feet in front of the finish line, only to suddenly experience an involuntary heaving. Oh no. As Melissa observes that I'm slowing down and tugs on my hand again, the vomiting commences. Not just any kind of spew...uncontrollable projectile vomiting (and what was the culprit--uh huh, the orange Gatorade). In front of hundreds of people and, oh yes, right into the cameras (only five feet in front of me and I was projecting the Gatorade at least three feet. Impressive?). Yes, so what's my awesome race photo from that year? That's right, they caught the projectile vomit on camera. And not after the fact; as it's coming out of my mouth. OMG. Grossest (and, come on, it's a bit hilarious too) moment ever.
As I was writing this post, I realized that I have many embarrassing moments (none so disgusting as that last one, thank goodness). These ones are the first that came into my head. I haven't even gotten into the wonders (and pitfalls) of marathoning. Perhaps another time.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
A Meal To Remember: The Story of The Famed Bottle of 1997 Hermitage
In a previous post I mentioned how I've experienced several seven hour, very memorable meals. Two of these meals have been chez moi. This post shall detail the first seven hour meal that I created myself.
The Origins of My Own Seven Hour Meal:
As you can probably tell by now, I am a francophile. I've spent almost two years living over there, for school, work and pleasure. My junior year of college was spent in the south of France, more specifically in Aix-en-Provence. A lovely hill town/city, with narrow, winding cobblestone roads, and a splendid array of fountains--indeed, 'aix' means 'water' in Latin (vestige from the Roman times) and Aix-en-Provence derived its name from the many, many fountains that adorn the streets. In the fall of that year abroad, I volunteered on a small winery in the Rhone Valley in the Northwestern part of Provence. In the autumn, vinophiles come from all over the globe to help with the harvesting of the grapes.
Fast forward several years and I returned to the same vineyard and had to treat myself to a sumptuous bottle, errr ok, case of Hermitage from the year I was there. On my return home, I impatiently awaited the treasure to arrive. Three weeks later I opened up a case of 12 dusty bottles of 2003 Hermitage. I was giddy. As I was inspecting the bottles, I observed that one bottle had a lot more dust on it than the others and had a different color label. I quizzically perused the label and as realization hit me as to the contents, my eyes bulged and I started shaking; shaking so much that I had to put the bottle down for fear that I would drop it. It was a 1997 Chave Hermitage! This is by far the best bottle of wine that I've had in my possession. An accompanying note from the winery revealed that they knew the bottle was a the case and based on my very zealous ravings at the store, they knew it was in the right hands now and to enjoy. I let out a long breath (for I realized I'd been holding it in) and sighed to know that it wasn't a mistake, it really was all mine.
Now that I had this treasure in my possession, what would I do with it? Store it? Drink it?
I couldn't not partake in it. I had to have it now. But if I was going to have it now, I'd have to honor it the best way I knew how. Create my own seven hour french meal--using recipes that I had picked up whilst in France.
But who would I share this with? Who would appreciate it? Whether or not a person is educated in wine and knows 'what vintage means what' is irrelevant to me. It's all about the spirit of a person. Will the person appreciate the full sensual experience of the meal? Will they be able to be swept up into the moment and not think about time or other concerns?
My best buddy Melissa first flashed into my head. We spent the most amount of time together. However, two memories floated to the surface: "I wish they would make a pill for eating, it's such a waste of time sometimes" and "why use a recipe that takes a whole day when you can use Rachel Ray's 30 Minute Meals?" I knew in my heart that Melissa was too practical to appreciate the bliss.
Soon after, I thought of my long-time family friend, Grant Swisher. As I considered him as a candidate, I absently nodded in approval. He may not know anything about wine, but he enjoys sitting and enjoying the simple pleasures in life. Plus, I've known him my whole life and he would know exactly what this bottle and accompanying food would mean to me. Our fathers went to Dartmouth together; his Dad was my Dad's best man; our families went on ski vacations every year; we both spent a considerable amount of time living abroad; we both went to Colby; and now we both found ourselves living in Philadelphia. Two New Englanders and old time friends coming together to enjoy a meal. Yes, I liked the idea of that.
I sent him an email entitled "A Sumptuous Affair" and he of course eagerly accepted.
I took a full two weeks to plan out the meal. The majority of the time was spent researching what flavors would go best with the Hermitage. Four days before the event, I walked down to the Italian Market and bought supplies at the butcher, the cheese shop, the chocolate shop, the spice corner, and the fruit/veggie stand. This is one of my favorite parts of making a big meal. Taking an afternoon to leisurely peruse all the specialty shops and converse with the owners. The Italian Market makes me feel like I'm fifty years in the past and doing things that many, many women before my time have done. It makes the meal all the more special.
First Course: Assorted cheeses
Accompanied by 2003 Riesling
Second Course: Puff pastry filled with goat cheese and shitake mushrooms
Accompanied by 2003 Croze-Hermitage
Third Course: Roast Venison with scalloped potatoes
Accompanied by 1997 Jean-Louis Chave Hermitage
Fourth Course: Arugula salad with a broiled Crotin de Chavignole on top. Dijon dressing
Fifth Course: Mocha pot de creme
Sixth Course: Calvados
Grant came over around 7pm. We finally finished the meal around 2:00 am. It was sublime. The wine made me giddy. Grant had to pour it into our glasses because my hands were shaking so much. I was ridiculously caught up in its aromas, so much so that I told Grant not to talk while I was taking a sip because I wouldn't hear a word he was saying. I was in its trance, in its thrall, whatever you want to call it; I was completely enraptured. What did it taste like, I mean other than heaven? Hmmm, not very good at descriptions. Blackberries. Slightly acidic. After taste of tannins, but only slight. Full-bodied. Left a very good taste in your mouth, even five minutes later. The scent was the most powerful I'd ever experienced. That's what really got me giddy. Drinking in the aromas was just as satisfying as drinking the actual liquid.
I also learned a lot about Grant that I didn't know before. Growing up, he had an obsession with the number 11 and made his mom give him 11 of everything in his lunch (i.e. exactly 11 grapes has to be prepared). He also has to have the volume of the background music at the perfect level at all times. This means that he may have to inexplicably get up from the table--mid-conversation or no--and tinker with the volume knob on my speakers. The music selection was awesome. Radiohead, of course, as we are both avid fans, then a selection of music from my France days. In particular I played a type of music called Rai which hails from french-Northern Africa. This always gets me feeling very sentimental and reminiscent, so of course the conversation also drifted down my memory lane in France. Grant has a wide and eclectic range of music so he eventually pulled his iPOD out and set the conversation and tone into another direction.
And that is how the evening played out. I remember it remarkably well considering the haze that set in around the second course.
The Origins of My Own Seven Hour Meal:
As you can probably tell by now, I am a francophile. I've spent almost two years living over there, for school, work and pleasure. My junior year of college was spent in the south of France, more specifically in Aix-en-Provence. A lovely hill town/city, with narrow, winding cobblestone roads, and a splendid array of fountains--indeed, 'aix' means 'water' in Latin (vestige from the Roman times) and Aix-en-Provence derived its name from the many, many fountains that adorn the streets. In the fall of that year abroad, I volunteered on a small winery in the Rhone Valley in the Northwestern part of Provence. In the autumn, vinophiles come from all over the globe to help with the harvesting of the grapes.
Fast forward several years and I returned to the same vineyard and had to treat myself to a sumptuous bottle, errr ok, case of Hermitage from the year I was there. On my return home, I impatiently awaited the treasure to arrive. Three weeks later I opened up a case of 12 dusty bottles of 2003 Hermitage. I was giddy. As I was inspecting the bottles, I observed that one bottle had a lot more dust on it than the others and had a different color label. I quizzically perused the label and as realization hit me as to the contents, my eyes bulged and I started shaking; shaking so much that I had to put the bottle down for fear that I would drop it. It was a 1997 Chave Hermitage! This is by far the best bottle of wine that I've had in my possession. An accompanying note from the winery revealed that they knew the bottle was a the case and based on my very zealous ravings at the store, they knew it was in the right hands now and to enjoy. I let out a long breath (for I realized I'd been holding it in) and sighed to know that it wasn't a mistake, it really was all mine.
Now that I had this treasure in my possession, what would I do with it? Store it? Drink it?
I couldn't not partake in it. I had to have it now. But if I was going to have it now, I'd have to honor it the best way I knew how. Create my own seven hour french meal--using recipes that I had picked up whilst in France.
But who would I share this with? Who would appreciate it? Whether or not a person is educated in wine and knows 'what vintage means what' is irrelevant to me. It's all about the spirit of a person. Will the person appreciate the full sensual experience of the meal? Will they be able to be swept up into the moment and not think about time or other concerns?
My best buddy Melissa first flashed into my head. We spent the most amount of time together. However, two memories floated to the surface: "I wish they would make a pill for eating, it's such a waste of time sometimes" and "why use a recipe that takes a whole day when you can use Rachel Ray's 30 Minute Meals?" I knew in my heart that Melissa was too practical to appreciate the bliss.
Soon after, I thought of my long-time family friend, Grant Swisher. As I considered him as a candidate, I absently nodded in approval. He may not know anything about wine, but he enjoys sitting and enjoying the simple pleasures in life. Plus, I've known him my whole life and he would know exactly what this bottle and accompanying food would mean to me. Our fathers went to Dartmouth together; his Dad was my Dad's best man; our families went on ski vacations every year; we both spent a considerable amount of time living abroad; we both went to Colby; and now we both found ourselves living in Philadelphia. Two New Englanders and old time friends coming together to enjoy a meal. Yes, I liked the idea of that.
I sent him an email entitled "A Sumptuous Affair" and he of course eagerly accepted.
I took a full two weeks to plan out the meal. The majority of the time was spent researching what flavors would go best with the Hermitage. Four days before the event, I walked down to the Italian Market and bought supplies at the butcher, the cheese shop, the chocolate shop, the spice corner, and the fruit/veggie stand. This is one of my favorite parts of making a big meal. Taking an afternoon to leisurely peruse all the specialty shops and converse with the owners. The Italian Market makes me feel like I'm fifty years in the past and doing things that many, many women before my time have done. It makes the meal all the more special.
First Course: Assorted cheeses
Accompanied by 2003 Riesling
Second Course: Puff pastry filled with goat cheese and shitake mushrooms
Accompanied by 2003 Croze-Hermitage
Third Course: Roast Venison with scalloped potatoes
Accompanied by 1997 Jean-Louis Chave Hermitage
Fourth Course: Arugula salad with a broiled Crotin de Chavignole on top. Dijon dressing
Fifth Course: Mocha pot de creme
Sixth Course: Calvados
Grant came over around 7pm. We finally finished the meal around 2:00 am. It was sublime. The wine made me giddy. Grant had to pour it into our glasses because my hands were shaking so much. I was ridiculously caught up in its aromas, so much so that I told Grant not to talk while I was taking a sip because I wouldn't hear a word he was saying. I was in its trance, in its thrall, whatever you want to call it; I was completely enraptured. What did it taste like, I mean other than heaven? Hmmm, not very good at descriptions. Blackberries. Slightly acidic. After taste of tannins, but only slight. Full-bodied. Left a very good taste in your mouth, even five minutes later. The scent was the most powerful I'd ever experienced. That's what really got me giddy. Drinking in the aromas was just as satisfying as drinking the actual liquid.
I also learned a lot about Grant that I didn't know before. Growing up, he had an obsession with the number 11 and made his mom give him 11 of everything in his lunch (i.e. exactly 11 grapes has to be prepared). He also has to have the volume of the background music at the perfect level at all times. This means that he may have to inexplicably get up from the table--mid-conversation or no--and tinker with the volume knob on my speakers. The music selection was awesome. Radiohead, of course, as we are both avid fans, then a selection of music from my France days. In particular I played a type of music called Rai which hails from french-Northern Africa. This always gets me feeling very sentimental and reminiscent, so of course the conversation also drifted down my memory lane in France. Grant has a wide and eclectic range of music so he eventually pulled his iPOD out and set the conversation and tone into another direction.
And that is how the evening played out. I remember it remarkably well considering the haze that set in around the second course.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Block Rockin' Beats: Spin Profile #2
New addition last week to my instructor schedule: spin class for Penn Women's Rowing Team. I'll be meeting with the same group of women every Friday from 2-3. I'm trying to make a plan for the for the next couple of months so we're not just doing random workouts every week. First couple of weeks we'll work on general conditioning. Then move into an endurance & strength period, ending with power development. Last week I started off with Spin Profile #1. This Friday I'll be doing the following profile.
NB: In constructing these workouts, I have been carrousing two sites in particular:
http://spinningmixes.wordpress.com/
http://spinningmusic.wordpress.com/
I like the first site because Atwood has great visualizations and descriptions of each track. I also like the idea of having "themed" spin classes. Next week I'm going to look for songs that have the word 'fire' in them. So far I'm thinking Billy Joel's 'We didn't start the fire' and "Walk through the fire" from that Buffy the musical episode (Once more with feeling). Anyone else have suggestions??
Spin Profile #2 (60 min class):
Goal: Hit 'em hard and early with speed and resistance. Work on endurance and strength.
1. Break Myself by Something Corporate
Warm up. One minute flat road, easy cycling. 1 minute stretching. Notch up resistance to a 6 (enough so you can easily stand up). Ride it out to end.
2. I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch) by the Four Tops (2:46)
Still warming up. 1.5 min of standing run. Turn up resistance to a 7. Take it out into position 3, standing climb.
3. When I Grow Up by the Pussycat Dolls (4:06)
Turn resistance up to an 8 (another full turn). During verse do standing climb. During chorus sink back into saddle and sprint. 100%. Sprinting with resistance. If want to go easier, turn resistance down to 6 or 7 during sprint sections. "Sprint" here means anything faster than cadence pace. It's not meant to be a "flat road" sprint, so the wheels shouldn't be spinning too fast. Verses are not breaks! Turn back up the resistance and jump out to position 3/standing climb.
4. Jump Around by The House of Pain (3:36)
Resistance to a 7. A bit heavier than last week's jump song. And we're going double time. Fast 8 and 4 counts. 8 count jumps during the verse; 4 count jumps during the chorus.
Here is the start of our mountain (no hills for us!). 6 parts.
5. Teenage Wasteland by Puhdys (3:21)
We're going up quick! Start at 7 (starting heavier than last week) and increase resistance every 30 sec. Increase just enough so you can feel the change. Move from a 7-9. By end of the song, resistance should be so high that you are peddling just behind the beat of the song. Remind people to keep upper body stationary and the peddle strokes smooth through the hi resistance.
6. Lose Control by Missy Eliot ft Ciara (3:15)
Rolling Hills. Last song ended at a 10, bring it down to a 6. Each minute of music is a hill. Increase (then decrease) every 10 sec. Increase/decrease at least one full turn, trying to keep the same cadence.
7. Bust A Move by Young MC (4:22)
Modified jumps (alternating between postion 2 and 3/both standing). 30 sec modified jumps. One minute holding back in position 3. Push hips further back--really isolates the glutes. This should make your butt burn! This is a great core workout. Keep reminding people to push their hips back, lift up the hips, keep the abs tight, really focus on using the glutes to push the peddles. Resistance should be high, around an 8. If your butt is not on fire, turn it up, lean it farther back!
8. The Distance by Cake (3:00)
We're going the distance! Halfway done with the mountain! Steady climb. First 1.5 minutes standing climb; second half sit back in the saddle. Time to dig in. Last song was at an 8, turn it up to a 9. Should be hard to keep up with the beat = resistance up enough so you're on the beat (or slightly behind). For an extra challenge, crank it up to a 10 last 30 seconds of song. Form! Smooth peddle strokes!
9. Block Rockin' Beats by The Chemical Brothers (4:54)
Sprints with resistance. Turn down resistance to a 7 (maybe an 8 if not getting a good burn). 15, 30, 45, 60 second sprints with 15-30 sec recovery based on how people are looking. Ideally time it so last minute is sprint to finish (I usually do the 15, 30, 45 intervals and then leave one longer, 60 second sprint at the end). THIS SHOULD FEEL HEAVY! Time under tension = toning. This time you get a real rest in between sprints. But try to gradually get back to cadence and then a sprint (= anything faster than cadence pace) instead of going really slow then all of a sudden jerking back into a sprint. Remind people to preserve their form during the sprints. Don't ever sacrifice form for speed! Stay in control! For an extra challenge, jack up resistance quarter turn last 60 sec. It's the end, race it in!
11. 'Til I Collapse by Eminem (5 min)
Last hard song and last blast up the mountain (downhill after this). Seated Climb. Highest resistance song. Start at 9, make an increase every minute~enough so you can feel a change. Alternatively: middle two minutes pop out into position 3/standing climb then sit it back again into the saddle. This makes it a bit easier.
10. 15 Step by Radiohead (3:57)
Time to go down the mountain. Take resistance down to 6 (position 3/standing climb). Cadence. Get the blood moving through the legs again. Active recovery. Concentrate on form. Not done yet, no sitting back. 2 minutes standing climbs. 2 minutes eated.
11/12. I Envy The Wind by Lucinda Williams; So Long by Guster
Cool Down. Resistance all the way off. On bike streches. Off bike stretches.
NB: In constructing these workouts, I have been carrousing two sites in particular:
http://spinningmixes.wordpress.com/
http://spinningmusic.wordpress.com/
I like the first site because Atwood has great visualizations and descriptions of each track. I also like the idea of having "themed" spin classes. Next week I'm going to look for songs that have the word 'fire' in them. So far I'm thinking Billy Joel's 'We didn't start the fire' and "Walk through the fire" from that Buffy the musical episode (Once more with feeling). Anyone else have suggestions??
Spin Profile #2 (60 min class):
Goal: Hit 'em hard and early with speed and resistance. Work on endurance and strength.
1. Break Myself by Something Corporate
Warm up. One minute flat road, easy cycling. 1 minute stretching. Notch up resistance to a 6 (enough so you can easily stand up). Ride it out to end.
2. I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch) by the Four Tops (2:46)
Still warming up. 1.5 min of standing run. Turn up resistance to a 7. Take it out into position 3, standing climb.
3. When I Grow Up by the Pussycat Dolls (4:06)
Turn resistance up to an 8 (another full turn). During verse do standing climb. During chorus sink back into saddle and sprint. 100%. Sprinting with resistance. If want to go easier, turn resistance down to 6 or 7 during sprint sections. "Sprint" here means anything faster than cadence pace. It's not meant to be a "flat road" sprint, so the wheels shouldn't be spinning too fast. Verses are not breaks! Turn back up the resistance and jump out to position 3/standing climb.
4. Jump Around by The House of Pain (3:36)
Resistance to a 7. A bit heavier than last week's jump song. And we're going double time. Fast 8 and 4 counts. 8 count jumps during the verse; 4 count jumps during the chorus.
Here is the start of our mountain (no hills for us!). 6 parts.
5. Teenage Wasteland by Puhdys (3:21)
We're going up quick! Start at 7 (starting heavier than last week) and increase resistance every 30 sec. Increase just enough so you can feel the change. Move from a 7-9. By end of the song, resistance should be so high that you are peddling just behind the beat of the song. Remind people to keep upper body stationary and the peddle strokes smooth through the hi resistance.
6. Lose Control by Missy Eliot ft Ciara (3:15)
Rolling Hills. Last song ended at a 10, bring it down to a 6. Each minute of music is a hill. Increase (then decrease) every 10 sec. Increase/decrease at least one full turn, trying to keep the same cadence.
7. Bust A Move by Young MC (4:22)
Modified jumps (alternating between postion 2 and 3/both standing). 30 sec modified jumps. One minute holding back in position 3. Push hips further back--really isolates the glutes. This should make your butt burn! This is a great core workout. Keep reminding people to push their hips back, lift up the hips, keep the abs tight, really focus on using the glutes to push the peddles. Resistance should be high, around an 8. If your butt is not on fire, turn it up, lean it farther back!
8. The Distance by Cake (3:00)
We're going the distance! Halfway done with the mountain! Steady climb. First 1.5 minutes standing climb; second half sit back in the saddle. Time to dig in. Last song was at an 8, turn it up to a 9. Should be hard to keep up with the beat = resistance up enough so you're on the beat (or slightly behind). For an extra challenge, crank it up to a 10 last 30 seconds of song. Form! Smooth peddle strokes!
9. Block Rockin' Beats by The Chemical Brothers (4:54)
Sprints with resistance. Turn down resistance to a 7 (maybe an 8 if not getting a good burn). 15, 30, 45, 60 second sprints with 15-30 sec recovery based on how people are looking. Ideally time it so last minute is sprint to finish (I usually do the 15, 30, 45 intervals and then leave one longer, 60 second sprint at the end). THIS SHOULD FEEL HEAVY! Time under tension = toning. This time you get a real rest in between sprints. But try to gradually get back to cadence and then a sprint (= anything faster than cadence pace) instead of going really slow then all of a sudden jerking back into a sprint. Remind people to preserve their form during the sprints. Don't ever sacrifice form for speed! Stay in control! For an extra challenge, jack up resistance quarter turn last 60 sec. It's the end, race it in!
11. 'Til I Collapse by Eminem (5 min)
Last hard song and last blast up the mountain (downhill after this). Seated Climb. Highest resistance song. Start at 9, make an increase every minute~enough so you can feel a change. Alternatively: middle two minutes pop out into position 3/standing climb then sit it back again into the saddle. This makes it a bit easier.
10. 15 Step by Radiohead (3:57)
Time to go down the mountain. Take resistance down to 6 (position 3/standing climb). Cadence. Get the blood moving through the legs again. Active recovery. Concentrate on form. Not done yet, no sitting back. 2 minutes standing climbs. 2 minutes eated.
11/12. I Envy The Wind by Lucinda Williams; So Long by Guster
Cool Down. Resistance all the way off. On bike streches. Off bike stretches.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Kia Ora
Here it is finally. Blog entry about the Body Pump training. I've been sitting on this post for almost two weeks now. I changed my mind just about every day regarding what I wanted to say about this and how to best explain the experience. Two Sunday's ago I felt changed. Not in a huge "I'm not the same person at all" way, but in a more subtle, "new perspective on life" way. Confidence and positive energy were bursting from the seams (ok that may have also been my quads wanting to rip out of my jeans from all the squats and lunges). I was walking proud, albeit slightly bow-legged, with a huge grin slapped on my face, and my chin raised up, ready to take on the world.
But I was afraid to write anything last week--why? Was I not bustling with things to say? For sure. But as soon as I arrived back at my Philly apartment and melted into regular life, I felt absence and doubt. Absence because I had been living in a bubble of positive re-enforcement for the long weekend...I had become part of a team, a new family. Even though I had been suddenly thrown together with seven other strangers, the common goals and passions bonded us more than some people I've known for years. And what a group to be surrounded by! So enthusiastic and team-oriented. If we all could be surrounded by a team like this all the time, our lives would be so much more happy! This great team-experience confirmed what I had already known: surround yourself with positive people. It makes all the difference!
I felt doubt because I wasn't certain if this feeling was going to endure. No longer having my enthusiastic team in the audience whooping me on, would my perspective remain altered or would I fade back into the patterns of yesterday? Perhaps this is a morbid comparison, but I'm reminded of the classic funerary speech: "let's not forget how we're feeling today and how important it is to live our lives to the fullest." It's a great sentiment, but it seems as though the very next day we're all back in our routines and that passionate feeling of yesterday has faded into oblivion until the next eye-awakening event comes and is then forgotten. It is my hope to hold onto the new principles I learned last weekend and make them apart of my everyday life. Two weeks later, I'm still flying high, so I think at least for now I can rest aside my doubts.
So here we go.
Have you ever gone to something, i.e. a movie or a class, thinking you knew exactly what it was all about, and then later realize that you really had no idea at all? This is exactly what happened to me. I've been taking BP classes for over a year. I, as a participant, loved the workout: all the classic weight room moves set to rockin' music. I would tell people to go because it seemed to be the quickest way to build toned muscle. Me, marathoner, was finally building arm muscles--muscles you could see through my sleeves! Unbelievable.
When I went to the instructor training, I figured I would be taught the choreography and how to instruct it. I felt extremely confident about my technique and my ability to pick up routines, so I thought this would be pretty straight forward. Little did I know that BP is not just weights to music, but it represents a whole set of principles to live by: the program is based on psychological coaching techniques that can be applied to any part of your life. Thus, being a BP instructor is not just about memorizing and instructing moves: I am your coach and you are my team. We are working together to achieve your goals.
FYI: The following is a mix of my own notes/observations and information from the BODYPUMP manual.
Culture in the Weight Room?
BP is part of a larger organization called Les Mills. The founder, Les Mills, competed in 4 Olympic Games before opening his own gym in Aukland, NZ in 1968. Before long, Les Mills gyms were popping up all over NZ. In 1990, Les Mills created BP. Soon after, other programs were created like BodyVive, BodyCombat, and RPM. Now, there are 8 different programs, 5 million people per week taking classes from all over the globe, and ~80, ooo BP instructors globally.
Why do people love these classes so much? What's the big whoop? Well, as I alluded to earlier, Les Mills programs are not just about putting moves to music. I learned this past weekend that the BP program is based off of the Maori traditions and customs in New Zealand. According to the BP Handbook, two of the most popular Maori traditions are called the Haka and the Hongo. The haka is an ancient warlike challenge with fierce movements performed to a Maori chant. It is a regular custom at Les Mills events to symbolize the global challenge for our 'warrior-like' instructors in the war against obesity.
The second popular custom at Les Mills is called the hongi: the Maori welcome expressed by the pressing of noses (similar to kissing someone on the cheek to greet them). The literal meaning of hongi is 'the sharing of breath'. In the hongi (the traditional greeting), the ha or breath of life is exchanged and intermingled. Through the exchange of this physical greeting, you are no longer considered manuhiri (visitor), but rather tengata whenua, one of the people of the land. Les Mills trainers and instructors often greet each other with a strong Roman-style handshake incorporating the hongi into their greeting.
Sure enough, this was the first thing we learned about (and did) at the training. Seven strangers stood in a circle and one-by-one went around and pressed noses together while grasping forearms. We also said simultaneously, "Kia Ora Nina" meaning, "Greetings, my name is Nina." Not being accustomed to unknown persons entering my space, I definitely blushed and giggled a bit. This sharing of the Ha, or life breath, was a very intimate and surprising start to the weekend! I didn't realize it at the time, but this exchange represents one of the main principles at Les Mills: connecting to people.
Incorporating Maori traditions into a global exercise program gives participants a sense of belonging to something larger than themselves. I remarked several times over the course of the weekend how glad I was to become an instructor because I felt like I was part of a team again. This is what I miss most about college--being on the track team and having a constant source of camaraderie and passion.
Science in the Weight Room?
The big wigs in New Zealand coming up with the new BP routines every three months have a team of scientists, physiologists, choreographers, and coaches to research all the how's and whys:
How many squats can you do in a row safely and for how long?
How little rest can you get by with without passing out?
What are the best combinations of moves to get the most results?
In sum, the exercise selection, sequencing, and intensity are scientifically researched, debated, and rehearsed many times before the new release reaches the clubs. These routines are not just random moves that look good!
The physiological aims of BP are:
1. Burn calories (473/class)
2. Increase lean muscle mass by increasing muscle endurance and strength
3. Increase bone density
Basically, BP tones muscles without bulking you up, changes your body shape, increases your metabolism, makes you stronger, and gives you better muscle and cardiovascular endurance.
The training emphasized becoming familiar with the science and physiology behind the exercises. To be a great coach, you not only need to know what moves to do, you also need to be able to explain why you're doing them. For example, why do we do all the exercises in a "set position: to protect joints and muscles, to isolate one muscle group at a time, to work the core while working, for example, your biceps, etc. Being an athlete and a scientist myself, I appreciated this education as it deepened my own understanding of my own training as well as helped me to connect better with others and help them achieve their goals.
Philosophy in the Weight Room?
We're Coaches, Not Instructors
Before getting to the philosophy of BP, let me backtrack and explain the structure of the weekend. There were six of us folk who trudged to Swansea, MA (Where is that? In the stix.) for a three day intensive training course. Friday we met from 12-9pm. Saturday and Sunday from 8-5. Since I was staying with my sister in Charlestown, MA, I had a nice extra 70 minute drive out to a strip mall that is called the town of Swansea.
On the first day, I arrived on time (a miracle, I know) with a few extra jitters of anticipation. We started off the session with the Kia Ora and then an hour-long class of BP. I looked askance at the weight selection of the others and wondered if that was their regular weights: they had double the amount of weight that I usually do. They didn't look that much better in shape that I, so I concluded that they must be having some adrenaline-induced competitive flair and over-loading up the plates. I was well-minded of the fact that this was the first hour of a many hour workout and thus kept with the regular weight. This turned out to be very advantageous as we did two rounds of BP that day plus a lot of technique work (which required to hold each position in the correct form for ungodly amounts of time).
Anyways, our trainer, Tara, took the stage and ripped off her warm up clothes to start the class. OMG. Move over Sydney Bristow aka Jennifer Garner, here comes Tara. With her Nike Black Boots (we're talking laced up all the way to below the knee), spandex shorts and a BP sports bra, my jaw dropped to the ground. The essence of BP before my eyes (yes I was envious): toned, not bulky, with, of course, a cool jeweled belly button ring to accent a nice, flat four-pack. To top it off her hair was perfectly quaffed in cute, brunette pigtails (I know, "cute", but believe you me, it was HOTTT). Man, she had that sort of coolness about her that not only comes from her kick ass appearance, but also a sense of confidence that she exudes.
After the shock of her rocking bod diminished, I became aware of the fact that she kept calling us 'Team.' Not, 'Hey Guys, Dudes, or Whatever,' but Team. I immediately perked up to this notion of us, instructors-in-training, were all on the same team and out to accomplish our goal together. I immediately felt I had a clear place in this group of unknown persons. This was the first glimpse into the idea that BP is not just a class of individuals; the person leading the group is not just an instructor, but a coach who instructs, educates and motivates. It is a place where strangers come together, unite for an hour, grunt and sweat through an intense workout led by a coach, and then leave, feeling joyous at having accomplished a common goal. Does the saying, "Misery loves company" ring a bell? What better way to get through a tough workout when you know that a whole slew of people are going through the same exact agony??
After we swat through the class, Tara roped us in to introduce some coaching skills. I was pretty surprised to see her put up a big poster with two quotes on it. One by psychologist Carl Jung, "Criticism has the power to do good when there is something that must be destroyed, dissolved or reduced but is capable of only harm when there is something to be built." The second by author and motivational speaker Zig Ziglar, "A lot of people have gone further than they thought they could because someone else thought they could." The first quote introduces the CRC (connect, recommend, commend) model of BP coaching. It emphasizes how to create positive change. Tara pointed out to us that most people coming to class have very busy lives; since participants have elected to spend a whole hour of their day with us, which is a lot considering the many commitments people have, they should leave the class feeling better about themselves than when they entered. The best way to get the participant to improve (and keep coming back to class) is to be very mindful of how you correct bad form or how to get people to work harder. If you notice someone not executing proper technique, instead of shouting, "Hey Fartface, what are you doing? That looks terrible!," make eye contact and say something more general, "Let's try to to it this way." Sometimes, you may not even have to say anything at all, just make eye contact, then try a non-verbal approach, such as emphasizing the correct form.
The second quote alludes to the idea that people can achieve gads more knowing that someone else is there who believes in them and who gives them a positive experience. Tara illuminated that some people have no one in their lives who supports them going to the gym. It's hard for me to imagine a day without working out, since it's been a part of my daily routine since the sixth grade. I was reminded that there are many people out there who have lots of trouble just getting to the gym and moreover, have people at home telling them that they're crazy to go lift weights and tire themselves out. I mean, they might miss an episode of Idol, and that would just be insane! Therefore, as BP coaches, it is our responsibility to take participants to a place where they couldn't (or wouldn't) go by themselves. And to keep in mind that the individuals coming to class all have different reasons for being there and different self-esteem levels. A great saying that Tara used a lot was, "Can't lives on won't street." It's up to us coaches to motivate people to get to that next level of training.
In sum:
BP Coaches are here to create positive changes
BP Coaches are here to bring you to a place where you couldn't (or wouldn't) go on your own
Magic in the Weight Room?
Pump is not pretty. You sweat, you burn, you groan, you whoop. By the last run through of BP on the third day, we were the essence of Pump. Each one of us fed off of the the adrenaline/endorphin rush of the other. The harder it got, the more we swat, the more feral our cheers became. The seven of us created fitness magic together that last hour. This magic is created through mastery of the choreography, the technique, the coaching, and also by really connecting with the other members of the team. This may be the most important, albeit slightly intangible, element that underlies the BP. As a coach, you may have solid technique and know the chorey, but if you can't bring the people together, there will be something missing from the routine--probably something that they can't even identify. Recall the last time you were captivated by an experience. Maybe buried in a good book? Lying on the ground looking up at the stars in awe? Watching your favorite artist perform? How did it make you feel? Did the hairs on the back of your neck stand up? That's right; regardless of your specific feelings you were swept away on a journey. Your senses were heightened; you actually stopped thinking and started feeling. This is magic. And it is the overall goal to to create it in our classes--by bringing the chorey, the technique, the coaching, and the connecting together.
After learning all of the factors that go into leading a kick ass class, I started to doubt myself. Can I pull this all together? The first step is to learn the chorey so well that you don't have to think about it. It becomes intuitive (this is what is so great about the chorey and the music--once you become familiar with it, you can just feel what kind of a move you should be doing). It's only after this accomplishment that you can work on your coaching and connecting skills--the coaching happens WHILE you are leading the choreography and portraying correct technique. There really is no room for contemplating what move comes next if you want to be able to look to your teammates, observe if they have proper form, connect with them, and correct it...then you still have to remember to give people pre-cues so they know what move is coming next. This is what I have to work on. I find myself saying the cue exactly as the change comes. I myself have gotten to the point where I don't have to think about the chorey, but sometimes I forget that I have to let everyone else know before a switch happens.
I congratulate anyone who actually read all the way through this. It's amazing how much one can learn and be inspired in one long weekend. I still have loads to share, but I have to cut this lengthy post off. I've been writing this since Monday and the revision is cumbersome. I usually am very focused in my writing and determining what I want to say, but I have found this difficult. Maybe because it had a profound impact on me and I feel I can't really do it justice. Maybe because I learned so many things about coaching, training, and most of all myself, it makes it difficult to boil things down to their essence. Also, when something is important to me, I want other people in my life to get it too. Why am I obsessed with this? Whay am I talking about it all the time? This post is the tip of an explanay. Anyways, hopefully I've laid things out in a cohesive fashion.
A la proche.
But I was afraid to write anything last week--why? Was I not bustling with things to say? For sure. But as soon as I arrived back at my Philly apartment and melted into regular life, I felt absence and doubt. Absence because I had been living in a bubble of positive re-enforcement for the long weekend...I had become part of a team, a new family. Even though I had been suddenly thrown together with seven other strangers, the common goals and passions bonded us more than some people I've known for years. And what a group to be surrounded by! So enthusiastic and team-oriented. If we all could be surrounded by a team like this all the time, our lives would be so much more happy! This great team-experience confirmed what I had already known: surround yourself with positive people. It makes all the difference!
I felt doubt because I wasn't certain if this feeling was going to endure. No longer having my enthusiastic team in the audience whooping me on, would my perspective remain altered or would I fade back into the patterns of yesterday? Perhaps this is a morbid comparison, but I'm reminded of the classic funerary speech: "let's not forget how we're feeling today and how important it is to live our lives to the fullest." It's a great sentiment, but it seems as though the very next day we're all back in our routines and that passionate feeling of yesterday has faded into oblivion until the next eye-awakening event comes and is then forgotten. It is my hope to hold onto the new principles I learned last weekend and make them apart of my everyday life. Two weeks later, I'm still flying high, so I think at least for now I can rest aside my doubts.
So here we go.
Have you ever gone to something, i.e. a movie or a class, thinking you knew exactly what it was all about, and then later realize that you really had no idea at all? This is exactly what happened to me. I've been taking BP classes for over a year. I, as a participant, loved the workout: all the classic weight room moves set to rockin' music. I would tell people to go because it seemed to be the quickest way to build toned muscle. Me, marathoner, was finally building arm muscles--muscles you could see through my sleeves! Unbelievable.
When I went to the instructor training, I figured I would be taught the choreography and how to instruct it. I felt extremely confident about my technique and my ability to pick up routines, so I thought this would be pretty straight forward. Little did I know that BP is not just weights to music, but it represents a whole set of principles to live by: the program is based on psychological coaching techniques that can be applied to any part of your life. Thus, being a BP instructor is not just about memorizing and instructing moves: I am your coach and you are my team. We are working together to achieve your goals.
FYI: The following is a mix of my own notes/observations and information from the BODYPUMP manual.
Culture in the Weight Room?
BP is part of a larger organization called Les Mills. The founder, Les Mills, competed in 4 Olympic Games before opening his own gym in Aukland, NZ in 1968. Before long, Les Mills gyms were popping up all over NZ. In 1990, Les Mills created BP. Soon after, other programs were created like BodyVive, BodyCombat, and RPM. Now, there are 8 different programs, 5 million people per week taking classes from all over the globe, and ~80, ooo BP instructors globally.
Why do people love these classes so much? What's the big whoop? Well, as I alluded to earlier, Les Mills programs are not just about putting moves to music. I learned this past weekend that the BP program is based off of the Maori traditions and customs in New Zealand. According to the BP Handbook, two of the most popular Maori traditions are called the Haka and the Hongo. The haka is an ancient warlike challenge with fierce movements performed to a Maori chant. It is a regular custom at Les Mills events to symbolize the global challenge for our 'warrior-like' instructors in the war against obesity.
The second popular custom at Les Mills is called the hongi: the Maori welcome expressed by the pressing of noses (similar to kissing someone on the cheek to greet them). The literal meaning of hongi is 'the sharing of breath'. In the hongi (the traditional greeting), the ha or breath of life is exchanged and intermingled. Through the exchange of this physical greeting, you are no longer considered manuhiri (visitor), but rather tengata whenua, one of the people of the land. Les Mills trainers and instructors often greet each other with a strong Roman-style handshake incorporating the hongi into their greeting.
Sure enough, this was the first thing we learned about (and did) at the training. Seven strangers stood in a circle and one-by-one went around and pressed noses together while grasping forearms. We also said simultaneously, "Kia Ora Nina" meaning, "Greetings, my name is Nina." Not being accustomed to unknown persons entering my space, I definitely blushed and giggled a bit. This sharing of the Ha, or life breath, was a very intimate and surprising start to the weekend! I didn't realize it at the time, but this exchange represents one of the main principles at Les Mills: connecting to people.
Incorporating Maori traditions into a global exercise program gives participants a sense of belonging to something larger than themselves. I remarked several times over the course of the weekend how glad I was to become an instructor because I felt like I was part of a team again. This is what I miss most about college--being on the track team and having a constant source of camaraderie and passion.
Science in the Weight Room?
The big wigs in New Zealand coming up with the new BP routines every three months have a team of scientists, physiologists, choreographers, and coaches to research all the how's and whys:
How many squats can you do in a row safely and for how long?
How little rest can you get by with without passing out?
What are the best combinations of moves to get the most results?
In sum, the exercise selection, sequencing, and intensity are scientifically researched, debated, and rehearsed many times before the new release reaches the clubs. These routines are not just random moves that look good!
The physiological aims of BP are:
1. Burn calories (473/class)
2. Increase lean muscle mass by increasing muscle endurance and strength
3. Increase bone density
Basically, BP tones muscles without bulking you up, changes your body shape, increases your metabolism, makes you stronger, and gives you better muscle and cardiovascular endurance.
The training emphasized becoming familiar with the science and physiology behind the exercises. To be a great coach, you not only need to know what moves to do, you also need to be able to explain why you're doing them. For example, why do we do all the exercises in a "set position: to protect joints and muscles, to isolate one muscle group at a time, to work the core while working, for example, your biceps, etc. Being an athlete and a scientist myself, I appreciated this education as it deepened my own understanding of my own training as well as helped me to connect better with others and help them achieve their goals.
Philosophy in the Weight Room?
We're Coaches, Not Instructors
Before getting to the philosophy of BP, let me backtrack and explain the structure of the weekend. There were six of us folk who trudged to Swansea, MA (Where is that? In the stix.) for a three day intensive training course. Friday we met from 12-9pm. Saturday and Sunday from 8-5. Since I was staying with my sister in Charlestown, MA, I had a nice extra 70 minute drive out to a strip mall that is called the town of Swansea.
On the first day, I arrived on time (a miracle, I know) with a few extra jitters of anticipation. We started off the session with the Kia Ora and then an hour-long class of BP. I looked askance at the weight selection of the others and wondered if that was their regular weights: they had double the amount of weight that I usually do. They didn't look that much better in shape that I, so I concluded that they must be having some adrenaline-induced competitive flair and over-loading up the plates. I was well-minded of the fact that this was the first hour of a many hour workout and thus kept with the regular weight. This turned out to be very advantageous as we did two rounds of BP that day plus a lot of technique work (which required to hold each position in the correct form for ungodly amounts of time).
Anyways, our trainer, Tara, took the stage and ripped off her warm up clothes to start the class. OMG. Move over Sydney Bristow aka Jennifer Garner, here comes Tara. With her Nike Black Boots (we're talking laced up all the way to below the knee), spandex shorts and a BP sports bra, my jaw dropped to the ground. The essence of BP before my eyes (yes I was envious): toned, not bulky, with, of course, a cool jeweled belly button ring to accent a nice, flat four-pack. To top it off her hair was perfectly quaffed in cute, brunette pigtails (I know, "cute", but believe you me, it was HOTTT). Man, she had that sort of coolness about her that not only comes from her kick ass appearance, but also a sense of confidence that she exudes.
After the shock of her rocking bod diminished, I became aware of the fact that she kept calling us 'Team.' Not, 'Hey Guys, Dudes, or Whatever,' but Team. I immediately perked up to this notion of us, instructors-in-training, were all on the same team and out to accomplish our goal together. I immediately felt I had a clear place in this group of unknown persons. This was the first glimpse into the idea that BP is not just a class of individuals; the person leading the group is not just an instructor, but a coach who instructs, educates and motivates. It is a place where strangers come together, unite for an hour, grunt and sweat through an intense workout led by a coach, and then leave, feeling joyous at having accomplished a common goal. Does the saying, "Misery loves company" ring a bell? What better way to get through a tough workout when you know that a whole slew of people are going through the same exact agony??
After we swat through the class, Tara roped us in to introduce some coaching skills. I was pretty surprised to see her put up a big poster with two quotes on it. One by psychologist Carl Jung, "Criticism has the power to do good when there is something that must be destroyed, dissolved or reduced but is capable of only harm when there is something to be built." The second by author and motivational speaker Zig Ziglar, "A lot of people have gone further than they thought they could because someone else thought they could." The first quote introduces the CRC (connect, recommend, commend) model of BP coaching. It emphasizes how to create positive change. Tara pointed out to us that most people coming to class have very busy lives; since participants have elected to spend a whole hour of their day with us, which is a lot considering the many commitments people have, they should leave the class feeling better about themselves than when they entered. The best way to get the participant to improve (and keep coming back to class) is to be very mindful of how you correct bad form or how to get people to work harder. If you notice someone not executing proper technique, instead of shouting, "Hey Fartface, what are you doing? That looks terrible!," make eye contact and say something more general, "Let's try to to it this way." Sometimes, you may not even have to say anything at all, just make eye contact, then try a non-verbal approach, such as emphasizing the correct form.
The second quote alludes to the idea that people can achieve gads more knowing that someone else is there who believes in them and who gives them a positive experience. Tara illuminated that some people have no one in their lives who supports them going to the gym. It's hard for me to imagine a day without working out, since it's been a part of my daily routine since the sixth grade. I was reminded that there are many people out there who have lots of trouble just getting to the gym and moreover, have people at home telling them that they're crazy to go lift weights and tire themselves out. I mean, they might miss an episode of Idol, and that would just be insane! Therefore, as BP coaches, it is our responsibility to take participants to a place where they couldn't (or wouldn't) go by themselves. And to keep in mind that the individuals coming to class all have different reasons for being there and different self-esteem levels. A great saying that Tara used a lot was, "Can't lives on won't street." It's up to us coaches to motivate people to get to that next level of training.
In sum:
BP Coaches are here to create positive changes
BP Coaches are here to bring you to a place where you couldn't (or wouldn't) go on your own
Magic in the Weight Room?
Pump is not pretty. You sweat, you burn, you groan, you whoop. By the last run through of BP on the third day, we were the essence of Pump. Each one of us fed off of the the adrenaline/endorphin rush of the other. The harder it got, the more we swat, the more feral our cheers became. The seven of us created fitness magic together that last hour. This magic is created through mastery of the choreography, the technique, the coaching, and also by really connecting with the other members of the team. This may be the most important, albeit slightly intangible, element that underlies the BP. As a coach, you may have solid technique and know the chorey, but if you can't bring the people together, there will be something missing from the routine--probably something that they can't even identify. Recall the last time you were captivated by an experience. Maybe buried in a good book? Lying on the ground looking up at the stars in awe? Watching your favorite artist perform? How did it make you feel? Did the hairs on the back of your neck stand up? That's right; regardless of your specific feelings you were swept away on a journey. Your senses were heightened; you actually stopped thinking and started feeling. This is magic. And it is the overall goal to to create it in our classes--by bringing the chorey, the technique, the coaching, and the connecting together.
After learning all of the factors that go into leading a kick ass class, I started to doubt myself. Can I pull this all together? The first step is to learn the chorey so well that you don't have to think about it. It becomes intuitive (this is what is so great about the chorey and the music--once you become familiar with it, you can just feel what kind of a move you should be doing). It's only after this accomplishment that you can work on your coaching and connecting skills--the coaching happens WHILE you are leading the choreography and portraying correct technique. There really is no room for contemplating what move comes next if you want to be able to look to your teammates, observe if they have proper form, connect with them, and correct it...then you still have to remember to give people pre-cues so they know what move is coming next. This is what I have to work on. I find myself saying the cue exactly as the change comes. I myself have gotten to the point where I don't have to think about the chorey, but sometimes I forget that I have to let everyone else know before a switch happens.
I congratulate anyone who actually read all the way through this. It's amazing how much one can learn and be inspired in one long weekend. I still have loads to share, but I have to cut this lengthy post off. I've been writing this since Monday and the revision is cumbersome. I usually am very focused in my writing and determining what I want to say, but I have found this difficult. Maybe because it had a profound impact on me and I feel I can't really do it justice. Maybe because I learned so many things about coaching, training, and most of all myself, it makes it difficult to boil things down to their essence. Also, when something is important to me, I want other people in my life to get it too. Why am I obsessed with this? Whay am I talking about it all the time? This post is the tip of an explanay. Anyways, hopefully I've laid things out in a cohesive fashion.
A la proche.
Friday, January 9, 2009
BP and Spin Profile #1
Blurb on BP:
Today I am back in MA (staying in C-town with my sister) for a weekend of Body Pump training. Body Pump (BP) is a 60-minute workout class set to music. Each music track focuses on a different muscle group: Glutes/thighs (squats), Chest, Upper and Lower Back, Tri's, Bi's, Quads/Glutes (lunges), Shoulders, and Abs. Basically, you use a barbell and your choice of weights to perform the classic weight room exercises like squats, presses, dips, lifts and curls in a ball-busting routine set to music. BP is great because you get your heart rate up while doing high intensity lifting: so it's both a cardio and muscle building/fat burning/toning workout in one! I'll be doing a whole post on this after the training. Just wanted to put a quick "definition" out there for those of you wondering what the heck I'm doing this weekend.
Blurb on Spinning:
This week I've had inordinate amounts of adrenaline and endorphins coursing through my body; not only have I been getting ready for my BP training, but also my first official spin class at the Penn gym. It's going to be Monday morning at 6:30 am, less than 12 hours after the finish of the BP training. I hope that I'll be able to get on the bike! Anyways, I've been prepping all week for the spin class: selecting music and the accompanying workouts. This is called a "spin profile".
For those of you who have never been to a spin class (what are you waiting for, get yo' ass into gear!), spinning is more than getting on a stationary bike and riding fast to music. There are a variety of hand positions on the bike which each work a different grouping of leg muscles (see www.spinning.com for positions). Also, there is a "resistance knob" on the bike that controls how difficult it is to pedal. Turning up the resistance creates the illusion of going up a hill. Thus by adjusting the hand position, resistance, and tempo, you can get a variety of workouts on the bike.
And remember, the goal is not always to pedal as fast as you can; sometimes it's all about trying to get up a steep hill at a slower cadence. We often say that if you're able to pedal faster than the beat during a hill song, you don't have the resistance jacked up high enough. "Honest changes in resistance" are key to getting the most out of the workout as per my old spin instructor, Joanna, at the Beverly YMCA.
This is why spinning is so great: the workout is as hard as you want to make it. If you're not sweating by the end of a spin workout, it's most likely because you haven't challenged yourself enough.
One of the nicest aspects of teaching spin is that we instructors have complete freedom in selecting music and workouts (barring profanities of course). The creative juices really start to flow as I listen to music and to try to figure out what the best workout would be to the proposed song. Indeed, more and more I catch myself listening to all music everywhere with this spin-sensitive ear.
For my first official class at Penn I have created the following spin profile. I have no idea what kinds of people are going to be coming to the class (obviously intense people--6:30 am Mon morning!), so I tried to add a wide variety of music.
Warm Up: Save Me by Remy Zero (Smallville :) & Single Ladies by Beyonce
Standing Run: Can't Buy Me Love by The Beatles
Seated/Standing Climb: Disturbia by Rihanna
Standing Climb: Under Pressure by Queen/David Bowie
Seated Climb: Chasing Cars (remix) by Power Workout Music
Sprints: Phantom of the Opera (remix) by Harajuku
Jumps: Jump by Madonna
Modified Jumps: U Can't Touch This by M C Hammer
Seated Climb/Standing Run: Proud Mary by Tina Turner
Cool Down: Aicha by 1, 2, 3 Soleils
I'm also subbing a class on Tuesday @ 4, and I have another spin profile lined up for that one--to be shared at a later time.
I'm starting to understand why aerobics instructors always appear so freakishly peppy. It really is exciting to build a workout and then get to share it with other people (and you want everyone to love your workout as much as you do). Plus, I'm being PAID to workout! How awesome is that!!! Lastly, when you prepare and workout this much, large amounts of endorphins and adrenaline course through your body, which really masks any pain you may be feeling...I'm counting on that this weekend!
See ya on the flip side.
Today I am back in MA (staying in C-town with my sister) for a weekend of Body Pump training. Body Pump (BP) is a 60-minute workout class set to music. Each music track focuses on a different muscle group: Glutes/thighs (squats), Chest, Upper and Lower Back, Tri's, Bi's, Quads/Glutes (lunges), Shoulders, and Abs. Basically, you use a barbell and your choice of weights to perform the classic weight room exercises like squats, presses, dips, lifts and curls in a ball-busting routine set to music. BP is great because you get your heart rate up while doing high intensity lifting: so it's both a cardio and muscle building/fat burning/toning workout in one! I'll be doing a whole post on this after the training. Just wanted to put a quick "definition" out there for those of you wondering what the heck I'm doing this weekend.
Blurb on Spinning:
This week I've had inordinate amounts of adrenaline and endorphins coursing through my body; not only have I been getting ready for my BP training, but also my first official spin class at the Penn gym. It's going to be Monday morning at 6:30 am, less than 12 hours after the finish of the BP training. I hope that I'll be able to get on the bike! Anyways, I've been prepping all week for the spin class: selecting music and the accompanying workouts. This is called a "spin profile".
For those of you who have never been to a spin class (what are you waiting for, get yo' ass into gear!), spinning is more than getting on a stationary bike and riding fast to music. There are a variety of hand positions on the bike which each work a different grouping of leg muscles (see www.spinning.com for positions). Also, there is a "resistance knob" on the bike that controls how difficult it is to pedal. Turning up the resistance creates the illusion of going up a hill. Thus by adjusting the hand position, resistance, and tempo, you can get a variety of workouts on the bike.
And remember, the goal is not always to pedal as fast as you can; sometimes it's all about trying to get up a steep hill at a slower cadence. We often say that if you're able to pedal faster than the beat during a hill song, you don't have the resistance jacked up high enough. "Honest changes in resistance" are key to getting the most out of the workout as per my old spin instructor, Joanna, at the Beverly YMCA.
This is why spinning is so great: the workout is as hard as you want to make it. If you're not sweating by the end of a spin workout, it's most likely because you haven't challenged yourself enough.
One of the nicest aspects of teaching spin is that we instructors have complete freedom in selecting music and workouts (barring profanities of course). The creative juices really start to flow as I listen to music and to try to figure out what the best workout would be to the proposed song. Indeed, more and more I catch myself listening to all music everywhere with this spin-sensitive ear.
For my first official class at Penn I have created the following spin profile. I have no idea what kinds of people are going to be coming to the class (obviously intense people--6:30 am Mon morning!), so I tried to add a wide variety of music.
Warm Up: Save Me by Remy Zero (Smallville :) & Single Ladies by Beyonce
Standing Run: Can't Buy Me Love by The Beatles
Seated/Standing Climb: Disturbia by Rihanna
Standing Climb: Under Pressure by Queen/David Bowie
Seated Climb: Chasing Cars (remix) by Power Workout Music
Sprints: Phantom of the Opera (remix) by Harajuku
Jumps: Jump by Madonna
Modified Jumps: U Can't Touch This by M C Hammer
Seated Climb/Standing Run: Proud Mary by Tina Turner
Cool Down: Aicha by 1, 2, 3 Soleils
I'm also subbing a class on Tuesday @ 4, and I have another spin profile lined up for that one--to be shared at a later time.
I'm starting to understand why aerobics instructors always appear so freakishly peppy. It really is exciting to build a workout and then get to share it with other people (and you want everyone to love your workout as much as you do). Plus, I'm being PAID to workout! How awesome is that!!! Lastly, when you prepare and workout this much, large amounts of endorphins and adrenaline course through your body, which really masks any pain you may be feeling...I'm counting on that this weekend!
See ya on the flip side.
Monday, January 5, 2009
The phenom of the 7 hour meal...
What makes good food good? aka the phenomenon of the seven hour meal.
Regardless of whether a restaurant is Michelin rated or not, I find that a solid indicator of a good meal is length of time at the table. This rings true for dinner parties as well. In this chaotic world that's driven by the clock, it is quite a feat for a meal to transport you away from the daily worries, make you forget about the time, and be "in the Now." I know that I've prepared a good meal when my friends say, "Dear God, we arrived here at 7 and now it's 1am. What happened to all that time?" Maybe this is another reason why I love the art of eating so much, it's one of the few things that can bring me into the Now--into my yen place--without much effort on my part to focus. As I'm eating and enjoying conversation, I'm here at the dinner table. My mind is not wandering off. I'm just enjoying the moment. I also actively try to enhance this "Now" atmosphere in my dining room/kitchen by not having any clocks around. Indeed, you can't see any clocks in my entire apartment. I find this state more difficult to achieve during yoga (maybe because I don't practice it as often as I do eating...) when I really have to fight with my brain to turn off and just be in the Now.
In the history of seven hour meals with Nina, there have been four that have stood out. Two in France, two chez moi. The first one is the very first seven hour meal that I ever had. It was in Rouen, France and it was random. Random because I was not particularly looking for a seven hour meal nor did I really know that that kind of bliss existed. I was in Rouen following a morbid desire on my part to see the exact spot where Jeanne d'Arc was burned at the stake. I had dragged my friend all the way from Dijon (yes, where they make the mustard) to this ville about two hours to the Northeast of Paris. NB: I spent my first semester of college in Dijon, France; I know it's a bit nontraditional, but it's a legit program at Colby.
Once I had communed with the historic spot (which took all of one minute), we found that there wasn't really anything else to do in town. We spotted a restaurant across the square and decided to get some lunch. The restaurant was called the Toque d'Or: simple, rustic, yet bustling. Immediately after being seated by the host, the sommelier appeared and asked if we'd like an aperitif. Neither of us had had one before, so we asked for a recommendation. This is when I was introduced to kir. Kir is a mixture of black current liqueur and white wine and in my opinion is the perfect (and necessary) start to any seven hour meal. The subtle fruitiness of the kir, served with a complementing amuse-bouche (pre-appetizer), prepares your palate and psyche for the joys to come. Little did I know at the time that this apero would become an honored ritual to most of my meals.
Once settled with our aperos, the menus arrived. You could either go "a la carte" and pick and choose the parts of the meal or you could select "prix fixe/table d'hote." The latter means that the menu lists fixed meals at fixed prices. This is usually the best deal. You can get anywhere from three to five, six, or seven courses for a much cheaper price than if you selected the courses individually. It is also preferable to choose this because the chef selects the courses very carefully so that they all go together: each course adds up to a whole and the consumer experiences the meal exactly as the chef wants him to. I always pick this menu if it's available--I'd be pretty egotistical if I thought I could choose better than a master french chef.
I could describe to you exactly what I had that day, as I somehow remember the meal like I had it last night for dinner. This would take a lot of time. In sum, it was filled with the terroir of Normandy...apples, cider, calvados, roast chicken...each course built upon the last, leaving the palate feeling complete by the end. The simple and the complex were blended subtly into an ecstasy of experience. We worked our way through each course slowly, pausing after every bite to savor and talk. Each course was complemented with a different wine as per the sommelier and each was completed with a swipe of bread across the plate. We had seven courses in total, each one building a haze around us, til the outside world no longer existed--all that was there was us and our plates and our conversation.
And just when we thought the meal had come to the end, the patron of the resto came over and commented on how he had never seen Americans with a zest for eating equal to our own. Not only was he impressed by our spirits, he loved how we spoke in french the entire time we were there--not just to the staff, but in normal conversation. In a token of appreciation, he had the sommelier bring over some digestifs (on the house), calvados (apple brandy) to be exact. Calvados is the traditional after dinner drink of Normandy. Again, we had never had digestifs and were excited after our pleasant experience with Kir. I've learned since then that I'm not as fond of digestifs in general as aperitifs. They tend to be extremely potent and always bring a tear to the eye and a flush to the cheeks. However, in honor of that first seven hour meal, I always serve a spot of calvados after all meals chez moi. I actually have grown to like it, especially on a chilly evening. It's definitely an acquired taste though.
This "on the house" offering of a digestif became a trend at all the restaurants I went to in France. By the end of every meal, the patron would love me and my dinner companion, come over and say how delightful we are, and give us digestifs on the house. What a great country! A place where my love for enjoying a good meal and disregard of time is praised and rewarded! Yes, I'm a francophile if you couldn't tell already...
To be cont'd...
Regardless of whether a restaurant is Michelin rated or not, I find that a solid indicator of a good meal is length of time at the table. This rings true for dinner parties as well. In this chaotic world that's driven by the clock, it is quite a feat for a meal to transport you away from the daily worries, make you forget about the time, and be "in the Now." I know that I've prepared a good meal when my friends say, "Dear God, we arrived here at 7 and now it's 1am. What happened to all that time?" Maybe this is another reason why I love the art of eating so much, it's one of the few things that can bring me into the Now--into my yen place--without much effort on my part to focus. As I'm eating and enjoying conversation, I'm here at the dinner table. My mind is not wandering off. I'm just enjoying the moment. I also actively try to enhance this "Now" atmosphere in my dining room/kitchen by not having any clocks around. Indeed, you can't see any clocks in my entire apartment. I find this state more difficult to achieve during yoga (maybe because I don't practice it as often as I do eating...) when I really have to fight with my brain to turn off and just be in the Now.
In the history of seven hour meals with Nina, there have been four that have stood out. Two in France, two chez moi. The first one is the very first seven hour meal that I ever had. It was in Rouen, France and it was random. Random because I was not particularly looking for a seven hour meal nor did I really know that that kind of bliss existed. I was in Rouen following a morbid desire on my part to see the exact spot where Jeanne d'Arc was burned at the stake. I had dragged my friend all the way from Dijon (yes, where they make the mustard) to this ville about two hours to the Northeast of Paris. NB: I spent my first semester of college in Dijon, France; I know it's a bit nontraditional, but it's a legit program at Colby.
Once I had communed with the historic spot (which took all of one minute), we found that there wasn't really anything else to do in town. We spotted a restaurant across the square and decided to get some lunch. The restaurant was called the Toque d'Or: simple, rustic, yet bustling. Immediately after being seated by the host, the sommelier appeared and asked if we'd like an aperitif. Neither of us had had one before, so we asked for a recommendation. This is when I was introduced to kir. Kir is a mixture of black current liqueur and white wine and in my opinion is the perfect (and necessary) start to any seven hour meal. The subtle fruitiness of the kir, served with a complementing amuse-bouche (pre-appetizer), prepares your palate and psyche for the joys to come. Little did I know at the time that this apero would become an honored ritual to most of my meals.
Once settled with our aperos, the menus arrived. You could either go "a la carte" and pick and choose the parts of the meal or you could select "prix fixe/table d'hote." The latter means that the menu lists fixed meals at fixed prices. This is usually the best deal. You can get anywhere from three to five, six, or seven courses for a much cheaper price than if you selected the courses individually. It is also preferable to choose this because the chef selects the courses very carefully so that they all go together: each course adds up to a whole and the consumer experiences the meal exactly as the chef wants him to. I always pick this menu if it's available--I'd be pretty egotistical if I thought I could choose better than a master french chef.
I could describe to you exactly what I had that day, as I somehow remember the meal like I had it last night for dinner. This would take a lot of time. In sum, it was filled with the terroir of Normandy...apples, cider, calvados, roast chicken...each course built upon the last, leaving the palate feeling complete by the end. The simple and the complex were blended subtly into an ecstasy of experience. We worked our way through each course slowly, pausing after every bite to savor and talk. Each course was complemented with a different wine as per the sommelier and each was completed with a swipe of bread across the plate. We had seven courses in total, each one building a haze around us, til the outside world no longer existed--all that was there was us and our plates and our conversation.
And just when we thought the meal had come to the end, the patron of the resto came over and commented on how he had never seen Americans with a zest for eating equal to our own. Not only was he impressed by our spirits, he loved how we spoke in french the entire time we were there--not just to the staff, but in normal conversation. In a token of appreciation, he had the sommelier bring over some digestifs (on the house), calvados (apple brandy) to be exact. Calvados is the traditional after dinner drink of Normandy. Again, we had never had digestifs and were excited after our pleasant experience with Kir. I've learned since then that I'm not as fond of digestifs in general as aperitifs. They tend to be extremely potent and always bring a tear to the eye and a flush to the cheeks. However, in honor of that first seven hour meal, I always serve a spot of calvados after all meals chez moi. I actually have grown to like it, especially on a chilly evening. It's definitely an acquired taste though.
This "on the house" offering of a digestif became a trend at all the restaurants I went to in France. By the end of every meal, the patron would love me and my dinner companion, come over and say how delightful we are, and give us digestifs on the house. What a great country! A place where my love for enjoying a good meal and disregard of time is praised and rewarded! Yes, I'm a francophile if you couldn't tell already...
To be cont'd...
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Revelations from a straight man at Brewhaha
Yesterday I was sitting on a couch at Brewhaha, my favorite coffee shop, and reading The Tears of Artamon trilogy, when this guy sits down next to me. This was not particularly out of the ordinary as there are usually more males than females at this particular coffee shop--being in the heart of the gayborhood and next to the 12th st gym, it tends to attract this populace. For the record, I have only seen 1 or 2 straight men there in the 3 years that I've been frequenting it.
I turned to him briefly, gave him a semi-welcoming smile, then turned back to my reading.
30 minutes later he pokes me in the arm and says, "This is my favorite coffee shop in the city, but I always feel like I'm on display...it's a really disconcerting feeling." I turn, slightly confused, and finally really consider my couch companion: the baggy jeans, the t-shirt, the north face fleece...Could it be? A straight guy in Brewhaha? As he gives me a friendly/flirtatious grin, I find myself blushing and return a questioning look in reply. He explains to me that this one particular guy has been stalking the couch, walking by at least every five minutes just to give him a head to toe perusal. "I feel so dirty," he complained, "like he's undressing me right here. I didn't come here to get hit on, I just want read my article." I had to smirk at the reversal of the situation--I mean, what woman has not experienced that same feeling? He then further delighted me by realizing, "This is what women must feel like. It sucks."
I immediately exclaimed, "Yes I know! There's this guy at work who every time he sees me gives me an extremely obvious head to toe check out...it's so gross, not to mention unprofessional." He replied that it'd be one thing if he was at a club or some place where the come-ons were expected, but he just was going about his business and didn't expect/desire any attention. I revealed that this is one of the reasons I like going to Brewhaha--I don't have to worry about unwanted runins; it's safe for me. Of course he then threw up his hands and said, "I swear, my intentions are pure. I just had to get this horrible feeling off my chest!!"
Had a good chuckle about that. I felt the universe slide into balance for a couple of moments there.
I turned to him briefly, gave him a semi-welcoming smile, then turned back to my reading.
30 minutes later he pokes me in the arm and says, "This is my favorite coffee shop in the city, but I always feel like I'm on display...it's a really disconcerting feeling." I turn, slightly confused, and finally really consider my couch companion: the baggy jeans, the t-shirt, the north face fleece...Could it be? A straight guy in Brewhaha? As he gives me a friendly/flirtatious grin, I find myself blushing and return a questioning look in reply. He explains to me that this one particular guy has been stalking the couch, walking by at least every five minutes just to give him a head to toe perusal. "I feel so dirty," he complained, "like he's undressing me right here. I didn't come here to get hit on, I just want read my article." I had to smirk at the reversal of the situation--I mean, what woman has not experienced that same feeling? He then further delighted me by realizing, "This is what women must feel like. It sucks."
I immediately exclaimed, "Yes I know! There's this guy at work who every time he sees me gives me an extremely obvious head to toe check out...it's so gross, not to mention unprofessional." He replied that it'd be one thing if he was at a club or some place where the come-ons were expected, but he just was going about his business and didn't expect/desire any attention. I revealed that this is one of the reasons I like going to Brewhaha--I don't have to worry about unwanted runins; it's safe for me. Of course he then threw up his hands and said, "I swear, my intentions are pure. I just had to get this horrible feeling off my chest!!"
Had a good chuckle about that. I felt the universe slide into balance for a couple of moments there.
Friday, January 2, 2009
L'Art de Manger
In case you don't know me that well, I like to eat. Not just eating for eating's sake, meaning to satisfy my metabolic needs, but I enjoy every aspect of eating: the build up (what am I going to eat, where am I going to eat, and with whom am I going to eat), the meal itself (the presentation, the flavors, the surroundings, the conversation, the "close my eyes and savor each bite" part, the perfectly paired wine), and the after glow (the "you're going to have to throw me in a wheel barrow and cart me out of here" feeling, the "I wish there was a bed next to my table" feeling).
This passion actually has an interesting history. When I was born, I had many, many allergies to many, many different types of foods. I was basically on an all white food diet. Most foods made me incredibly sick--poor mom. I only remember eating rice, though there must have been other foods as well. I do recall that when someone would offer me a saltine cracker, I thought it was a cookie. Really, I thought I was getting a real treat when I got to nibble on those saltines. To this day, I think fondly on those simple treats. This limited lifestyle ended when I was four. Not because my allergies suddenly went away, but because my longing to experience the array of foods that other people were consuming could no longer be repressed. I recall sitting at the kitchen table one evening with my usual bowl of plain rice and looking at the other people's plates that had large hot dogs in buns with the full panel of condiments on top. As my mouth salivated and my eyes bulged, I made a life changing decision. I reached out and plucked a hot dog off of my mom's plate and stuffed it into my mouth--barely chewing as I gulped it down whole. Oh man was it good. That hot dog was the best thing that I had ever experienced. I had made my decision: from that day forth, I would eat whatever I could and damn the consequences. I'd learn how to deal with it.
Of course, after so many years of eating the plainest foods around, I went to the other extreme and ate too, too much. I soon acquired the reputation of being a "big eater" and found that I had to fulfill that image for many years after, eating more than I cared to, just so people would have this opinion of me. It really became a part of my identity and distinguished me from, for example, my sister who has always been a picky eater. My grandmother used to tell everyone the story of how one Thanksgiving when I was eight years old, I asked if I could have the leg of the turkey. My mom of course loaded the huge leg onto my plate without a pause. My granddad turned to gram and stated disapprovingly, "Oh, what a waste, giving the little girl all that food." My gram just smiled knowingly, "Oh, just you wait and see." Sure enough, I sucked down everything on that plate and then was nosing around for seconds.
Soon, relatives and friends forgot that I had ever had problems eating foods and figured I had just grown out of my allergies. I would never complain: I was silently defensive all those years, wanting it to seem that I was normal and feared being pitied like that child who thought saltines were cookies...
Fortunately when I went away to college, I realized that this "big eater" identity was stupid and unnecessary and was just making it harder for my already dysfunctional digestive system. Now I just eat like a regular person, except with a deeper appreciation, I think, for food and its seductive powers.
So, now that you have a better understanding of my roots, you can see why I'm always in search of a good meal. And by good I mean a perfect blending of tastes and experiences; a symphony; a fuzzy haze; a bit of heaven. Since college, I have traveled to many places in search for good meals. Most notably, I lived in France with a family for a year and a half. Not only was I able to enjoy meals at some of the best restaurants in the world, I was also fortunate to be taught how to cook and bake from my french mom. My next food themed post will show you a bit about what I experienced and learned there...I'm salivating just thinking back to those meals...
Just as a little extra note before I sign off here, Philly is a perfect place to reside if you have a passion for food. Okay, we do have a reputation for cheese steaks and tastykakes and Obesidelphia...this is all true. However, there is also a large BYOB culture, which is one of the greatest features of Philly (there are over 200 here). I plan to do a whole posting on my favorite BYO's of Philly... I was up in Boston over the holidays and a friend of mine had never heard of BYOB. For those of you sad creatures who have yet to experience this phenomenon, let me explain. BYOB = bring your own bottle. This means that the restaurant doesn't provide alcohol, you have to bring your own. Why is this great? All restaurants live and die by their food. But that fact is truer when the restaurant doesn’t mark up alcohol. The difficulty in producing great food while running a small business is intensified without the safety net of bar proceeds. Consequently successful proprietors of BYOBs have a heightened focus on the quality of their cuisine. BYOBs are also usually small joints, giving you and your dinner partner a very intimate feeling while sharing the meal. Anyways, it's going to take some time to put together a post on this, as I want to go out and take pictures of my favorite places too...
This passion actually has an interesting history. When I was born, I had many, many allergies to many, many different types of foods. I was basically on an all white food diet. Most foods made me incredibly sick--poor mom. I only remember eating rice, though there must have been other foods as well. I do recall that when someone would offer me a saltine cracker, I thought it was a cookie. Really, I thought I was getting a real treat when I got to nibble on those saltines. To this day, I think fondly on those simple treats. This limited lifestyle ended when I was four. Not because my allergies suddenly went away, but because my longing to experience the array of foods that other people were consuming could no longer be repressed. I recall sitting at the kitchen table one evening with my usual bowl of plain rice and looking at the other people's plates that had large hot dogs in buns with the full panel of condiments on top. As my mouth salivated and my eyes bulged, I made a life changing decision. I reached out and plucked a hot dog off of my mom's plate and stuffed it into my mouth--barely chewing as I gulped it down whole. Oh man was it good. That hot dog was the best thing that I had ever experienced. I had made my decision: from that day forth, I would eat whatever I could and damn the consequences. I'd learn how to deal with it.
Of course, after so many years of eating the plainest foods around, I went to the other extreme and ate too, too much. I soon acquired the reputation of being a "big eater" and found that I had to fulfill that image for many years after, eating more than I cared to, just so people would have this opinion of me. It really became a part of my identity and distinguished me from, for example, my sister who has always been a picky eater. My grandmother used to tell everyone the story of how one Thanksgiving when I was eight years old, I asked if I could have the leg of the turkey. My mom of course loaded the huge leg onto my plate without a pause. My granddad turned to gram and stated disapprovingly, "Oh, what a waste, giving the little girl all that food." My gram just smiled knowingly, "Oh, just you wait and see." Sure enough, I sucked down everything on that plate and then was nosing around for seconds.
Soon, relatives and friends forgot that I had ever had problems eating foods and figured I had just grown out of my allergies. I would never complain: I was silently defensive all those years, wanting it to seem that I was normal and feared being pitied like that child who thought saltines were cookies...
Fortunately when I went away to college, I realized that this "big eater" identity was stupid and unnecessary and was just making it harder for my already dysfunctional digestive system. Now I just eat like a regular person, except with a deeper appreciation, I think, for food and its seductive powers.
So, now that you have a better understanding of my roots, you can see why I'm always in search of a good meal. And by good I mean a perfect blending of tastes and experiences; a symphony; a fuzzy haze; a bit of heaven. Since college, I have traveled to many places in search for good meals. Most notably, I lived in France with a family for a year and a half. Not only was I able to enjoy meals at some of the best restaurants in the world, I was also fortunate to be taught how to cook and bake from my french mom. My next food themed post will show you a bit about what I experienced and learned there...I'm salivating just thinking back to those meals...
Just as a little extra note before I sign off here, Philly is a perfect place to reside if you have a passion for food. Okay, we do have a reputation for cheese steaks and tastykakes and Obesidelphia...this is all true. However, there is also a large BYOB culture, which is one of the greatest features of Philly (there are over 200 here). I plan to do a whole posting on my favorite BYO's of Philly... I was up in Boston over the holidays and a friend of mine had never heard of BYOB. For those of you sad creatures who have yet to experience this phenomenon, let me explain. BYOB = bring your own bottle. This means that the restaurant doesn't provide alcohol, you have to bring your own. Why is this great? All restaurants live and die by their food. But that fact is truer when the restaurant doesn’t mark up alcohol. The difficulty in producing great food while running a small business is intensified without the safety net of bar proceeds. Consequently successful proprietors of BYOBs have a heightened focus on the quality of their cuisine. BYOBs are also usually small joints, giving you and your dinner partner a very intimate feeling while sharing the meal. Anyways, it's going to take some time to put together a post on this, as I want to go out and take pictures of my favorite places too...
Commentary is open!
My mom pointed out that I didn't have the correct settings for the commentary posts...this is fixed and presently anyone can leave a comment. Aren't you excited? She also complained that my "science of taste" background is boring and that she didn't really read it...nice. I forget that not everyone is a fan of biochemistry (so shocking!); so don't you fret, it'll be more interesting in the future.
Hope you all had a great holiday! I think this was my best one yet. My friend Jane had a house party; or rather a dance party in her house as it turned out. One of my favorite moments was when I decided to do the Thriller dance (look for the pix on FB). Also, after the ball dropped I decided we should all take to the streets and dance around in homage to the great Phillies Parade Day when everyone took to the streets and made merry (all day AND all night long, awww yeah). No, we didn't ignite any fires or throw chairs through the sporting goods stores, but there was much revelry. Another bonus (for me at least) was that my good friend Cristin got stuck here in Philly. she's one of those crazies traveling on the Eve and of course the flight got canceled because of the blizzard in Boston. Bad for her, but good for me as it's always great to have an old-friend-connection unexpectedly join in the festivities. Today was equally as great: late wakeup, watched National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, then went out to the Wiss with Emily for some trail running. Afterwards, we stopped in Manayunk at the Burrito Bar and then headed back to her house to warm up with some hot apple cider while watching Teen Wolf (gotta love that M.J. Fox). Perfect day.
Compare this to other years when I would watch the 24 hour marathon of the 3 stooges at my parents house or tag along at one of my sister's parties. I never really felt the spirit of the New Year before and I certainly had never screamed out the count down as robustly.
Thanks to all my new and old friends for making the evening so special...I feel pretty lucky!
N.B. I highly recommend "taking it to the streets" if a chance should ever present itself. So freeing!
Hope you all had a great holiday! I think this was my best one yet. My friend Jane had a house party; or rather a dance party in her house as it turned out. One of my favorite moments was when I decided to do the Thriller dance (look for the pix on FB). Also, after the ball dropped I decided we should all take to the streets and dance around in homage to the great Phillies Parade Day when everyone took to the streets and made merry (all day AND all night long, awww yeah). No, we didn't ignite any fires or throw chairs through the sporting goods stores, but there was much revelry. Another bonus (for me at least) was that my good friend Cristin got stuck here in Philly. she's one of those crazies traveling on the Eve and of course the flight got canceled because of the blizzard in Boston. Bad for her, but good for me as it's always great to have an old-friend-connection unexpectedly join in the festivities. Today was equally as great: late wakeup, watched National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, then went out to the Wiss with Emily for some trail running. Afterwards, we stopped in Manayunk at the Burrito Bar and then headed back to her house to warm up with some hot apple cider while watching Teen Wolf (gotta love that M.J. Fox). Perfect day.
Compare this to other years when I would watch the 24 hour marathon of the 3 stooges at my parents house or tag along at one of my sister's parties. I never really felt the spirit of the New Year before and I certainly had never screamed out the count down as robustly.
Thanks to all my new and old friends for making the evening so special...I feel pretty lucky!
N.B. I highly recommend "taking it to the streets" if a chance should ever present itself. So freeing!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
