Double Digits

In elementary school each year we had to complete the President's Fitness Test.  It was comprised of doing sit-ups, pull-ups, the sit and reach and a one mile run.  I didn't mind doing most of the tests -- except the run.  I hated running.  I was a chubby kid growing up and whenever I ran I was even more aware of how my weight made me different from other kids.  I simply couldn't run for long or at that fast of a pace.  I was always at the back of the pack.  Typically it'd take me between 14-15 minutes to get done with one mile.  

Flash forward to the current day and my running skills haven't improved that much.  I still can be found at the back of the pack.  I run at what some would call a snails pace.  But for me I can at least say that I can run a mile in a slightly faster time that I did in elementary.  I'm down to 12 minute miles.  Even though I've made some improvements I don't consider myself a runner.  I'm not sure when I will cross over that line.  I think I came a step closer to crossing over the line this weekend.  

On Saturday I did my first ever double digit run.  I logged 10 miles. I ran 9.6 of it and worked in a few short walking breaks equaling .4 miles.  At times during my two hour run I was cursing my decision to train for the Fargo Marathon.  However, once I was done with my miles I felt great.  Ok, thats a bit of a lie.  I did enjoy a "runners high" but my knees were definitely feeling some pain.

My training is on track for a good run in May.  Before that Fargo event I will be traveling to run a half marathon in Albany Georgia.  The half marathon is in two weeks time and it fits in perfectly with my training plan. The race also allows me a chance to meet up with Pat my neighbor from China.  He will be running the full marathon in Albany.  

My Mom’s Recipes

I’m sure many of you have family cookbooks. You know the type. The contain the tried and true family favorites. Perhaps the recipes are handwritten. Maybe some are typed. If you look at the pages I’m sure you can find a stain or two from a food splatter or spill. My family has one just like this. We simply call it the “Brown Cookbook” as the binder is brown in color it is not necessarily a truly original name.

Many of the recipes in the book bring back childhood memories. I can remember the endless line of casseroles that we had for dinner when I was in elementary school. There are the mint melt-a-ways, an extremely rich chocolate dessert. There are simple recipes for the many dips and spreads we used to have at family gatherings.

Over Christmas, I started typing all of these recipes up so that we could share a copy between our whole family. I’m still working on the project. Each time I open the book I see a mixture of typed and hand written pages.

The cursive writing seems to envelope me every time I look at it. I struggle at times to decipher the swirls and curves of my mother’s penmanship. As I work my way from one recipe to another I relish the images that come to mind. The memories seem to come out from the darkness, from the far recesses of my brain. I welcome them all as most include at least a brief glimpse of my mom. I treasure these memories because as each year passes I struggle more and more to recall what my mom looked like, what her voice sounded like.....