Keys to Beautiful Bread

Ferment!

So I've started a phase of bread baking experimentation lately.  I've made various breads before, but now I'm exploring the world of wild yeast starters.  This basically means you mix some flour and water together and let it sit out so that little yeast guys floating in the air and bacteria in the flour inoculate your flour sludge, until it starts to bubble and smell a bit sour.  After a week or so of tending to it, you can start to bake with it.   This stuff becomes what you use to leaven your dough, instead of the dried yeast cultures you can buy. This process is fascinating and fussy and so far has produced two delicious loafs. 

I'm learning that bread baking is very much an art as well as a science.  In addition to measuring everything fairly precisely, you need to learn what the dough feels like and looks like and smells like in its various stages to get the timing right.  Given the cool temperatures in SF, which can affect the rate of rising, I'm finding I have to really get to learn to listen to and respond to the dough. 

So what is all this stuff doing on a training blog?  Wait for it.  (Deep, semi-profound, hardly-insightful analogy coming, I swear.)  Last night I started my leaven for another loaf of bread.   This morning, I mixed the leaven with more flour and water and salt.  Then I left for my morning run (a ha, training!) with the team down at Ocean Beach.  It was a gloriously beautiful day today, albeit extremely cold.  Probably about 39 when we started.   My lungs do not do well in cold, especially when I'm still recovering from a cold.  The run was only 5 miles, but I really struggled.  It was painful and I stopped a lot to walk.    And I had force myself to run even slower than I normally do, which is the only way I can run when my asthma is flaring up.  I was the VERY LAST runner out there, which is always a fear of mine. I don't mind being slow, but I hate being last.   I did manage, however, to put my ego aside and remind myself to listen and respond to my body.  I slowed it down a lot, and finished the run, thoroughly discouraged.

Bench resting.  The dough is chillaxin'

The team went out to brunch afterwards, but I declined since I had to tend to my bread back at home.  The recipe calls for a 3-4 hour fermentation at this stage.  By the time I finished showering and eating, I was at the 4.5 hour mark.  Still feeling dense and heavy -- not right.  I let another hour go.  Still not quite right.  Now I was feeling little discouraged thinking perhaps I had screwed up this batch.  But low and behold at hour 6, it finally came together.

The next phase is to shape the bread and let it rest.  When I started all of this, I was doubtful that the resting would do much, but in the short 20 minutes it chills out on the board, the glutens relax and the dough transforms into this supple and wonderful thing.  Just to finish off the process, you shape it again and let it rise again for 4 more hours or so before baking.

Ok, so here's today's realization learned from the dough.

1)  Things don't always go as planned or how you would like to go.  Today's run falls squarely into the disaster category. But I shouldn't feel so discouraged about it because I listened to my body.  I didn't allow the pressures of the other runners or the bread recipe dictate what I should do.  I responded to the slow rise of the dough, adapted, and waited patiently for things to come together.

Final Product!

2)  Rest can make all the difference in the world.  I tend to beat myself up when I don't work out according to the schedule.  But sometimes I just need to rest.  So I'm done feeling bad for missing workouts.  Rest can transform me.  Listen to your body.

3)  In the final step of this dough, you invert it into a hot pan.  I totally screwed this up as it stuck to the towel.  My lovingly risen dough was all twisted and a mess.  But I forged ahead and look what I produced!  So yes, even screw ups and bad days of training can produce something beautiful.

I'm still in bread training, and think it will be a long adventure, much like triathlon training.  Still enjoying the journey.

PS.  I'm still in fundraising training too.  $1400 from my goal.  Can you help me cure blood cancers?  I'll share some of my bread with you, if you'd like :-)

PPS.  Check out Tartine's bread baking book if you want to learn more about the process.

A Good, Swift Kick

Sometimes you just need a good, swift kick in the arse to get you going. I know this about myself.  I know I have good intentions and fail on the execution.  Alot. 

Like on Friday.  I got up and thought, "I am going on a run at lunch time. So I won't shower this morning.  I'll put on my sports bra and running shirt, and be ready to go when I get a break from work."  Around 6pm, I look up from my computer, all stinky from lack of showering, all chaffed from wearing spandex all day, and all stiff from not making it out the door.  Luckily, I look and smelled like I had exercised, so Chris never knew the difference. . .

When I signed up a month ago for another round of Team in Training to train for the Wildflower Half Ironman triathlon, I was well aware this type of day would come.  It always does.   The only way to combat this kind of day, is to sign yourself up for a team that has scheduled trainings where your friends expect you to be there.   And because I am not beyond letting my friends down from time to time (sorry guys),  I have to take the extra measure of publicly committing to all of my friends and family that I will train and fundraise for this event.  There is nothing like public shame to motivate.

And now you can help with the swift kick and the public shaming, by helping me with my fundraising efforts for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society.    Please won't you consider a tax-deductible donation to help find a cure for blood cancers?  At least 75% of your donation goes directly to patient services and research to find a cure for  diseases that an estimated 957,902 people in the United States are living with, or are in remission from. Every four minutes, someone new is diagnosed with blood cancer. Every 10 minutes, someone dies.

These statistics are always staggering to me every time I read them.  And recently, I just learned that a friend's sister-in-law was diagnosed with an advanced case of non-hodgkin's lymphona.  So many people I know are affected by these diseases.  It's hard to ignore it.   It's hard to not do something about it.  It's kind of like a swift kick.

So wind up that foot, and give me a swift kick, won't you? 

Woefully Delayed Race Report and Thank You

It's 2011.  And my first new years resolution is to be more diligent about my writing.  And since I pretty much gave up on this very same resolution fairly early on in 2010, I'm going to make good for last year and catch up on this blog.

I failed to write a report on my Chicago Marathon experience in October.  So without further delays:

My last training run 3 weeks before the race went really well.  21.5 miles and I was still smiling and walking the next day.  My training ladies came out and kept me company on the cold, wet day.  I was feeling pretty good about it all.  But then about 2 weeks before the race, my plantar fascitis flared up. I wasn't able to walk without pain.  I couldn't sleep because of it.  I started to freak out a bit.   I went to see Dr. R who told me to not run for the next two weeks, to ice daily, and to take a deep breath.   He said, "You can run the race, but it's going to hurt."  Hard to get excited about that.

But we packed our bags and headed to Chicago.  We ended up staying right downtown, very close to the race finish.  The city was buzzing with skinny people in sneakers.  I spent the two days before the race icing, massaging, and trying to stay calm.  My foot still hurt, but I was determined to do the race.

Pre-race jitters

On race morning, we got up at some ungoldy hour, and walked the .5 mile to the race start in the dark.  I met up with the Chicago Diabetes group, for whom I had been fundraising.  My foot was aching, and my stomach was in knots by the time I got to the start line.  Chris kissed me a on the check and left me to face my challenge all alone -- alone with 40,000 other people.

It took about 25 minutes to get to the start line, which was surprisingly short given how far back I was in the pack.  But I took off slowly, sticking to my plan to run/walk the whole race to give my foot a break.  8 minutes of running, 1 minute of walking.  Repeat about 25 times and then I'm done.

The sun had risen by the time I started running, and a smile emerged across my face.   I felt pretty good.  My pain in my foot had stopped aching.    I stopped at the bathroom around mile 6 and remember thinking, OK, this isn't going to be so bad!  Then I put my headphones back in and headed off dodging people all the way as I picked up my pace every so slightly.  The crowds cheering us on were amazing. 

Then about half a mile later, my foot started aching.  And then the front of my shin started seizing up.  I had to slow to a halt and stretch it out.  This was an entirely new pain.  A few minutes on the side of the road, and it was gone.  OK.  minor set back.  Still on schedule to meet my goal of 4:29 (to beat Katie Holmes).  Still feeling mentally strong.

10 minutes later, the pain came back.  Instead of 8 min of walking 1 minute of running, I was running 8 minutes, and stopping and stretching for 2 or 3 even 5 min at a time. But some how, I kept it together.  Just one foot in front of the other. Stop and stretch, but keep moving forward.   This is pretty much how the remaining 20 miles went.  The temperature was rising quickly, topping out around 84.  I concentrated on staying hydrated and just moving forward.

I'm in there somewhere, about to cross the finish line!

Everyone says that around mile 20, you hit a wall and you don't want to go on.  But I never really did.  I knew I was going to finish, was determined to finish, and in fact, by mile 22, I knew I wanted to do a marathon again.  I knew could do better, and most importantly, I knew that was not going to beat Katie Holmes, so I had to do it again!   I saw Chris and my friend Marion finally around mile 21. Ran and gave them a hug and then kept on running/limping/stretching.

The marathon is an interesting emotional experience.  After a while, you're sort of out of your body, just observing the pain, observing your emotional ups and downs.  You find that trying to keep up with the woman in the pink shirt turns out to be the most important thing ever.   And that seeing the guy running with an 8 foot Eiffel Tower costume on really pisses you off.  You find the fact that the race has run out of bananas hysterical.  And you find it perfectly acceptable that you are eating food from random strangers on the side of the road.  Even seeing the man who had fallen down and was bleeding 250 ft from the finish line was mildly entertaining.  Things aren't quite normal in this marathon state.  Events seem to take a back seat to emotions.

Somewhere around mile 24 my right contact came out of my eye.  I ran for about a mile winking and running into people.  Finally stopped and managed to put it back in, more annoyed by the sweat in my eye than the fact I couldn't see.  Somewhere around mile 25, I bit the bejezus out of my cheek and was dripping blood down my lip.  And somewhere around mile 26, crossed the finish line.

I don't really remember too much in the last few miles, but I do remember crossing the finish line having to fight back a few tears as I had my photo taken with my medal.  And then I remember being really pissed off that I had to have a new found respect for Katie Holmes, by 4 minutes.

Anyhow, I really enjoyed the race.  Chicago is beautiful.  The race is well run, and there were people on every block of the the 26 miles to cheer us on.  It was a great first (but not last!) marathon experience. Thanks to everyone who donated to my fundraising, too!

How I Think About Running

6:00 am - 1.5 cups of coffee, black
6:30 am - 2 slices of rye bread with almond butter
8:45 am - 1 electrolyte tablet
9:30 am - 3 GU Chomps Chews with Caffeine
10:30 am - 4 sips of blue Accelerade (Thanks Pam)
10:45 am - 1 ginger candy and 1 electrolyte tablet
11:00 am - 1 Hammer gel, banana flavored
11:30 am - 1 electrolyte tab
12:15 pm - 20 oz Hammer Heed Recovery drink, Orange flavored
1:00 pm - 1 Mixed Nut Mojo bar, handful of Goldfish crackers
1:30 pm - 4 slices of salami and 1 slice of cheese and cup of tea while sitting in ice bath
2:00 pm - 1 large veggie and cheese omelet a la Lori with the TG of Oz Ladies
2:30 pm - 1 waffle with maple syrup and fresh berries
5:30 pm - nap
7:30 pm - 1 slice of bread with olive oil
7:45 pm - 1 glass Kerner Pacher-Hof, 2008 White Wine; Toast Chris's birthday!
8:00 pm - Octopus carpaccio, Russian Kale with Anchovies, 1 Squid Ink and 1 Saffron Arancini with Marinara sauce
8:15 pm - 1 glass Kerner Pacher-Hof, 2008 White Wine
8:30 pm - Sea Bass with mashed potatoes and brussel sprouts
8:45 pm - 1 glass of Gamay red wine from Alto Adige (can't remember maker!)
9:00 pm - 1 gigantic ribeye steak, broccoli rabe, fingerling potatoes
9:15 pm - 1 glass of Gamay red wine from Alto Adige
9:30 pm - 1/2 Pannacotta with Balsamic vinegar

Blissful sleep.

How Many Katie Holmes Does It Take to Run a Marathon?

The answer if, of course, 28.4.  (How's that for cryptic and intriguing?)

So about 3 weeks ago, I woke up and had a really bad idea.  I decided I should run the Chicago Marathon.  I was on some post race high from completing Barb's Race a few weeks before.  I even convinced Chris to sign up with me.  He, being a more seasoned athlete than I am, realized it was a dumb idea and decided not to do it.

I, however, am still young and inexperienced.  So, not only did I sign up, I did a series of not smart things:

1. After signing up, I went on vacation for 2 weeks and did not run.
2. After not having run for nearly 4 weeks, I went wine tasting, drank much wine, and ate at a vegetarian restaurant the night before my 16.5 mile run (the longest distance I've ever run).  Run was not pretty.
3. I stopped taking my asthma medication for some reason several weeks ago.
4. I signed up to fundraise for this race for the Chicago Diabetes Project. Not in and of itself a dumb thing, but I only have 8 weeks to raise $1500. 

So this is where Katie Holmes come in.  She ran her first marathon (NYC) a few years ago in 5:28.  I remember laughing at her, considering her slow and lame.  This was before I had any idea of what it really takes to run a marathon.  But she's a celebrity, so laughing at her is what we (I) do.  Let's be honest, she does deserve a laugh from time to time.  (Tom Cruise, bad dancing, nothing good since Dawson's Creek, Tom Cruise, etc.)

So now as my long runs grow longer, 5:28 is in fact looking completely respectable to me, and I have made it my goal to complete my first marathon faster than  Katie Holmes.  That's right.  I am pathetic and lame, just like her.

If you were to so kindly jump over to my fundraising page, you would find a list of suggested donations.  One of which, is $52.80, $10 for every hour it took Katie to complete the marathon.  This has proven to be a popular choice of donations.  Which leads me to think that maybe much of fundraising can be done in increments of $52.80.  My goal is to raise $1500 by October 10.    Now, I have close to 3 Katie Holmes worth of funds.  Thanks to my friend Heather, I have this sort of mental model in my head.   I need 28.4 Katie Holmes to complete my fundraising. We'll call it 28.  I have 3 complete.  I just need 25 more Katie Holmes to finish this off.

Ok. This is vaguely creepy, but what are you going to do?  My HTML skills have withered away and this interface is pretty bad, so my actually being able to complete this matrix on this page will be challenging.  But know in my head, if you donate, I'll pick a little Katie just for you!


Thanks for your time.

Honesty

I completed my first half ironman triathlon yesterday at Barb's race.  1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and 13.1 run.  It was a pretty wonderful experience -- training with a great group of ladies and experiencing the race together.  We all did amazingly well and I'm so proud of us.

The not so quick and dirty recap:

Swim was super fun. I love swimming in the Russian River.  It was about 70 degrees, perfect tri swim temperature with a wetsuit.  The fog was hanging low in the cool morning. We swam under two bridges out and back for half a mile or so.  Great views as you glimpsed through your goggles.  It was crowed the whole time, and occasionally my fingertips scraped the bottom due to the shallow water, but I still loved it.  A tiny current coming back which made you feel super fast.  44 min, not bad, not bad.

They have wetsuit strippers at this race.  What a nice little thrill.  You sit down and they rip that puppy off of you.  I was afraid my tri shorts were going to come off in the process, but luckily everything remained covered.

The bike on this course is amazingly beautiful, full of fun rollers, good roads mostly, and one short climb all through Sonoma vineyards.  We did this ride as a training ride earlier in the summer when it was 97 degrees.  Thankfully, the weather gods were kind, and blessed us with a day that topped out at 82 or so.  I maintained a nice 16-18 mph pace on the flats, and ate and drank really well.   As an added bonus, I saw a bunch of friend out on a run while I was cruising by.  3:33 on the bike, which I am quite pleased with.

So I had to go pee before I left for my run, which is a good sign (well-hydrated).  In the porta-pottie, as I am fiddling with my tri shorts, I hear a *splunk*.  I look down and see my inhaler floating in the oh so lovely pit. Ewww and  curses!  I contemplate for more than a second, in all honesty, reaching in and grabbing it.  Luckily I had hydrated well, so my mental faculties were still somewhat coherent, and remembered that  I had another inhaler back at bike.  So I run back to my stuff grab it and start again.  8 minutes lost.

And then we get to the run.  With triathlons, its always about the run.  I started off well, running a decent pace, for the first 5 miles. I found a woman who was my pace and we chatted for 2 or so miles, which kept me going (Thanks Pam, wherever you are!)  But then the fatigue and asthma set in.  It was a downward spiral both physically and mentally, which I spent a lot of time fighting off. Thankfully a crew of friends were on the course cheering us on with signs and cowbells.  Since the route was a double loop, I had the good fortune of seeing them 3 times.  I also saw my ladies I trained with out there, which means the world to you when you're suffering.  In the end, my time was not awful, but not something I'm not terribly proud of.  2:47.

Complete time 7:19.  Faster than I predicted overall, actually.

So what I'm processing about all of this is how triathlons or any endurance event, for that matter, force you to take a good honest look at yourself.  You go into these races with complicated layers of expectations and thoughts about who you are and how you will do.  And in the end you have to be honest with yourself because ultimately it's just you, the road, and the clock.  What you see isn't always what you want.  And as the mile pass, you get down to a very raw form of your self and your perception of your self.

When you start (and by you, I mean me), you are optimistic and pessimistic, confident and insecure, excited and calm.  And then when it gets really hard, a shift happens:

At first you feel competitive and compare yourself to others, trying to find some aspect, of how you are better than any random person you pick out.  (I passed 6 blue caps and 5 green caps in the swim. I can totally pass her on the hill.  She's walking already?, etc.)  Then you start making excuses (Her bike is way fancier than mine.  She's 10 years younger than me. I have asthma.  I shouldn't have gone on vacation in the middle of training., etc. ) And then you really start scraping for excuses (Her genetics are better than mine.  I didn't sleep well 3 weeks ago.  This racing chip is totally weighing me down.  I brought the wrong flavor drink.)  And finally, you come to the truth or a version of it that is without any pageantry  (I am just a slow runner.  I could have train better.  I am really not that tough. I guess I don't really want it that badly.  I really can't do anything for a mile.)  This is when you really hate yourself because all of your expectations have been shattered.  And this does not help the mental situation at all, as you can imagine. Battling your way out of that is what the hard parts of a race are all about, I'm convinced.

But this morning after the race and a good night's rest, after all the demon fighting was over, I woke up with some clarity.  My first thoughts were: I did my best, I trained hard and as well as I could, I put in my best effort.  And I'm signing up to do it again next year, and I will do it better!  And then the next thought was: I must eat 3 ham sandwiches -- immediately!

Self Deception Is Your Friend

I know deep down inside  that I am capable of more than I think I am when it comes to training.   Coaches I've had in the past always say you can always give a little more than you think you can.  Chris tells me this all the time, too.  It's not that I don't believe them, but sometimes it's good to have a back up plan just in case they happen to be wrong.  I mean, at least one of them has been known to be wrong on occasion . . .

And this is where I say, "Self, meet Self-deception.  Self-deception, self."

Today I met Eileen for a swim at Aquatic Park.  We did our usual whining and whimpering as we put on our wetsuits. Eileen is a strong swimmer, much faster than me.  She wanted to swim the race distance today (1.2 miles).  I was fearful I couldn't handle it given my recent swim performance.  So I convinced her we'd just swim 30 minutes instead.    The water was not bad for aquatic park.  A strong drift came up half way through, forcing us to swim a bit harder.  After what seemed like 10 minutes, Eileen appears by me and asks how long it had been.  30 minutes!  We head in to shore.  I'm feeling fine. I surely could have swum another 20 minutes to complete the race distance.  Had I just gone with my completely whacked out sense of timing, deceiving my self of duration, I would have done just fine.

But I have a long run planned after the swim, so don't push it.  My goal was to run 14 miles.  Even though I knew it was 14 miles, I kept telling myself it was only 10.  I know I can run 10 miles.  Piece of cake.   I am sort of amazed how I can deceive myself even though I  know the truth. But it works.  Keeps the self-doubt a bay.  Something in my messed up psyche about my need to not fail or fall short of expectations that I set for myself.  Huh?

Anyhoo,  I set out on my run.  The first 5 miles feel fine, good even.  I consult my Nike pedometer dohickey. 4 miles it says.   So I know  that this device is not calibrated properly  and I know that I have run 5 miles given the route I've mapped out.  I know that my pedometer thingy can be up to 2 miles off.  I know that it can show that I've run 8 miles and I've really run 10.  I love this inaccuracy and failure of technology.  It helps me deceive myself.

The next 4 miles involve some hills and stairs, which I mostly am able to run.  I run by my old neighborhood, down my familiar old running path.  I'm enjoying the grand tour of San Francisco on foot.  Then my asthma kicks in and I have a pretty awful coughing fit for about half a mile.  Strangers stop me with serious concern on their faces.  I'm fine. I'm fine.  I'm fine, I keep repeating.  I am actually turning a bit pale and feeling a bit lightheaded.  But I tell myself I'm fine and keep on moving.  5 minutes later, everything settles down, and I am in fact fine.  Self-deception at its best!

By mile 12, I'm can taste the finish.  I look at my Nike pedometer.  It says 12 miles.  Wait. Huh?  It's decided to be accurate today? It's supposed to say 9 miles.  I start to panic.  I can only run 10 miles.  No way I can run 14 miles.  My back up plans and tricky, inaccurate devices are failing me.   I seriously go into a tizzy for a few minutes.  I can't be pleasantly surprised now by my self-deception.  It's just me and the road now.  Damnit.

I do a check in on my body.  I actually feel okay.  Legs are a bit tired, but they are moving a decent pace.  No blisters.  Hips not really aching too badly.   Shin splints are gone.  Okay.  Maybe I *can* do this.   I forge on ahead.  Run past the Breast Cancer walk crew, get a nice pick up from their cheers.  I run up and down my last hill.  I'm maybe 200 feet from my car.  I look at my pedometer.  13.5 miles. Curses.  I HATE failing, even at ridiculous self-prescribed, inconsequential, tricky goals like this.  So 200 feet from my car, I hang a left and run down this long pier that is about .25 miles long.  Out and back, and to my car.  14.11 miles!


So what's the lesson here?  I'm not really sure.  Except that maybe I need to start raising my expectations for my self from time to time. Or that I'm completely a nut job.  Or maybe both.  And we'll leave it at that.

PS.  I'm fundraising for my triathlon in 3 weeks.  Will you help me reach my goal of $750 to support local cancer charities?  Just $600 shy.