Superfoods: The Lure of Cookies and the Threat of Kale

As this web-based-log has detailed some of my culinary trials and tribulations, I’ve had the pleasure to expound upon some of the finer delicacies available to the human palate.

I’ve discussed girl scout cookies, good burgers, breakfastfood, pretzels, (a plate of) cheetos, and of course donuts. But I haven’t done my readers the benefit of laying out my superfood hierarchy.

You see, “nutritional scientists” have labeled certain foods “superfoods” because of various health properties (high number of antioxidants, for instance), and in so doing, completely misled an entire generation of consumers.

Don’t get me wrong, I like blueberries and flax seed as much as the next guy (assuming it’s encased in something chocolate), but we’re missing the larger point here. To provide normal food with the prefix "super" demands a certain degree of superiority that many of our current “superfoods”, frankly, lack. (also, superfoods aren’t a real thing… just something someone made up to try to sell oatmeal or quinoa or fish or something. You can’t even really find a real list. There is this list of 10 on webmd… or this list of 52(!) on Woman’s Day. 

Allow me to help clarify this situation. To unwrap the enigma. To dispel the pseudo-scientific urban legends. To bring order out of chaos.

The following items are actual superfoods – and ought to be afforded the proper respect and deference that their rightful position warrants.

Donuts – Already discussed here.

Burritos – Sure, sometimes you’re in a taco or fajita mood. But for day-in day-out supremacy, I choose the ubiquitous burrito. Take all the goodness and wrap it in a tortilla. Preferably, one with the size and weight of a brick.

Peanut M&Ms - The perfect candy. Two of nature's most perfect products: the peanut (which almost deserves its own post) and chocolate (which is magic chemical happiness) perfectly proportioned and wrapped in a thin candy shell. Elegant brilliant simplicity. Bravo.

Soft Pretzels – At the ballpark or at home… this is the greatest snack that exists. Also, please sign my petition to make ALL buns pretzel buns. In what possible scenario would you ever want a bun that’s NOT a pretzel bun? I can’t even imagine.

Guacamole – I was going to just put avocados here. As the fatcyclist astutely observed, they’re basically fat that grows on trees. Just think about that. Amazing. But guacamole is avocado in its highest form. The delicious buttery smooth avocado, a marvel unto itself, cannot aspire to meet a higher end than become guacamole. 

The Chocolate Chip Cookie – Oatmeal raisin, snickerdoodle, black/white, peanut butter… all sorts of cookies are delicious and have their own valuable niche. But, ultimately, all succumb to the unquestionable superiority of the homemade chocolate chip cookie. There is no equal. It rules all.

This is not an extensive list by any means. I reserve the right to add, amend, or otherwise alter it. (in fact, I will definitely be adding to it soon) Also, it’s broad by design. I haven’t discussed what establishment serves the BEST soft pretzels, for instance… because the subsequent discussion would result in unreadably long blog posts for each food item.

But for just a moment, I’d like to focus on the last item on the list. This has become a bit of a theme for me in this space, but when it comes to chocolate chip cookies… I just can’t help myself.

On Friday, someone brought in homemade chocolate chip cookies in the teachers lounge (which I’ve previously dubbed the elephants’ graveyard of my dignity). They were perfect. Just the right amount of chewiness and crispness. Just the right amount of chocolate. A few dozen little works of art.

So I had a couple. Even though it was 9am – I figure it’s basically the same ingredients as a muffin. I call it “the breakfast cookie” (note: yes, I do this enough that I have a name for it). They were so good, and went perfect with coffee. "hmmm... think I’ll have a couple more."

In total, I’m not sure how many I had. But it was more than 5.

So when Kelly texted me a picture of her making chocolate chip cookies with a “happy friday!” caption… despite feeling a rush of gratitude, I felt the need to confess that I had already more than maxed out what can be considered a responsible amount chocolate chip cookies to eat for the day (week?).

Her response shows the kind of sensitive, caring accountability that is fostered over seven years of loving marriage...

You see… because of my irresponsibility (and her fear of “the winter balloon”, which could potentially be the title of my autobiography), she has threatened to replace the BEST food (chocolate chip cookies) with the very WORST food that exists (kale).

To the defenders of kale: shame on you. Look around you at what you have done. Kale is the WORST. Stop pretending like it’s not. Kale tastes like you took old spinach and soaked it in asparagus urine and then left it in the sun. Who eats spinach and thinks “hmmm this is pretty bland and vegetable-y already, but can we make it more bitter with a worse aftertaste? I want to make a statement about how healthy I am every time I order it.” It’s a permanent blot on the legacy of our society. Every nation has its deep shame. I used to think ours was the treatment of Native Americans… but now I’m pretty sure it’s kale.

Anyway, I appreciate the accountability. Nothing is more motivating than the avoidance of kale. After all, I have to prevent the winter balloon…

More Marathon: Numbers & Photos

One week ago I ran a marathon. Over the course of the week, I received my official results (including photos) and thought I'd briefly share - in the spirit of this blog: partly because I'm proud and partly to make fun of myself.

so here's my official result: 

Not bad. If I was 1:55:03 on the front, that means I was 1:59:25 on the back. Pretty much that entire slowdown came in the last 6 miles - the last quarter of the race. Makes sense, I guess. (photo evidence of this later).

In 2012 I ran a half marathon, with the expressed goal of finishing in under 2 hours, and failed. Miserably. It's apples & oranges as far as my level of preparation, but considering the improvement, I still feel alright about a sub-2 hour second half. 

Apparently, they also offer a "visual" results page, which is sort of nice if it's hard for you to imagine numbers... or what a runner's shadow might look like:

you can tell this is inaccurate, because the runner has both feet off the ground at the same time

My favorite part of this is in the lower right corner: Over the second half of my marathon I past almost 400 people, and was only passed by 63. Yeesh. "hey, you know how you faded down the stretch, well apparently some other suckers really faded." Thanks, Houston.

Also, just in case I caught myself feeling good, here's a nice little map of where I was when the winner crossed the finish line.

why would you show me this?

Yep, looks like about halfway. Awesome. Thanks for that. 

Also, that's not fair - that guy only ran for like 2 hours. That's not even that tough. I ran for like 4 hours... so my accomplishment is much more impressive. It's simple math, really.

Speaking of easy - here's a race photo of me early on in the race:

hey - this isn't bad. this is gonna be fun! (you poor ignorant fool)

I actually ran the entire way across that blue mat with my arms held high like a moron, and then was laughing at myself afterward thinking about how stupid that picture will look. But the picture (amazingly) looks even more stupid, because it's of me laughing at myself while running a marathon. This is like mile 8 I think. I'm basically still in the "warm up" phase.

I'm omitting the next photo (around mile 15) because I'm concerned the wedgie will be deemed "obscene". No one needs to see that. Suffice it to say that things do not get prettier as a marathon progresses.

To wit, 

Am I more upset about the pain in my legs or that some doofus is trying to steal my orange-shirt-notoriety? 

This is in the home stretch - I think somewhere in the last mile. I'm wearing my "just finish" face. I can't feel my legs... despite following the low-impact strategy of keeping both feet on the ground (a difficult task while "running"). How much longer? 

The two pictures back-to-back are pretty funny. Caption possibilities abound. I think most would reduce down to some version of "marathons break people".

I finally finished...

I was going to raise my hands in triumph, but this is as high as they'd go

A couple things here: the first thing I notice is the the photographer is struggling to balance the light. If you're subject is in the shadows, expose for the shadows, buddy. Second, I was going to raise my arms in triumph, but they never got all the way up. Instead, I'm sort of throwing my hands up as if to ask "why? why did I do this?"

I start feeling better once I actually stop running.

I did it! #ubiquitousthumbsup 

After I'm corralled into the expo center and still not given water, I'm a bit more bewildered.

yeah, sure I'll take a picture... does that mean I get water sooner? I just want one...

I'm sporting a pretty classic "Wait - what's going on? What have I done?" smile. Sort of like when the hidden camera guy tells Chris Farley he's drinking Columbian Decaffeinated Coffee Crystals... "w-w-what?"

Anyway, despite the pain and delirium, I'm glad I did it. I'll be working on improving that split time this spring and using it as another reason to fight the fat. 

Houston Marathon - Race Report

So, This is quite long. Here is the short version: For various reasons, I pursued a pretty conservative race plan, but still met my overall goal of a sub-4 hour marathon (3:54). My legs hurt near the end, but I experienced no injuries, meltdowns, or similar collapses. Afterward, I actually felt not-too-bad, which leaves me wondering if I should have pushed harder. 

And that's about it. For a more detailed race report, see below.

The Plan

I have trained for this marathon with the "expected" race pace of 8:05. According to running coach Jack Daniels (no, not THAT Jack Daniels), that's how fast I ought to be able to run a marathon, based on other race times. I never really planned on running Houston that fast... mostly because that's the craziest thing I've ever heard. But I DID use it as my pace in training runs. Daniels never prescribes very long runs at race pace - he focuses more on interval training. The longest I ran near that pace was 15 miles (which is further than he prescribes). Still a ways, but my longer endeavors were slower, partially because I didn't want to overdo it.

Considering my training, I thought a goal pace of 8:30 was reasonable and that's been what I've been thinking up until a few weeks ago.

The Concern

- Two weeks before the marathon I was doing a longer workout on the treadmill (prescribed 12 miles, I had cut it to 10), and I felt sharp pain on the outside of my left foot. After the run, and upon closer inspection, I found that I had some sort of calcified protrusion just below my ankle bone. It was a big bump. And it was sore. It remained sore that whole week. I had only run 3 times since (and one was only 2 miles). Not anywhere close to my prescribed taper. Basically I went the last 2 weeks prior to the marathon without training at all.

- Monday (6 days before the marathon) I became violently ill - unable to retain fluid. It was just a 24 hour bug, but left me pretty weak and dehydrated. There was time to recover, but...

- I spent the entire week preceding the marathon in Washington DC chaperoning a field trip for a US government class. Lots and lots of walking, not a lot of resting. (And yes, I was sick on the trip. Not good times.)

- The day before marathon, I was feeling dehydrated (despite my best efforts to remedy this problem, I still don't think I was fully/properly hydrated for the race)

This list along with it being my first marathon left several unanswered/unanswerable questions. Have I had enough rest? What if I bonk? How will my foot hold up? What will mile 24 feel like? All these factors combined to provide requisite trepidation for me to decide to scale the pace back a bit. I would start easy, then settle in at around 8:45 pace and see how I felt late in the race, only increasing pace well after the halfway point.

The Start

I decided not to gear-check anything. I had a long sleeve shirt that I would wear to the start line and remove just before the gun… and other than that, just carry what I need (hotel key and credit card fit in back zip pocket). No phone. Much simpler that way. The only time I regretted this decision was for about 3 seconds when approaching the finish line, the guy in front of me spun around (while running) and snapped a selfie of himself crossing with the clock in the background. That's some nice work, sir. I would have fallen while turning around… and never finished.

Other than perhaps long car trips, I can't think of situations where I've been more obsessed with my bathroom habits than while training for and running in the marathon. Here's the thing, if you can help it, it would be nice to not have to stop for a minute… and *really* nice to not have to stop for three minutes. Anyway, I didn't really have to pee when I entered the start corral at just before 6:30 and the lines for the port-a-pots were pretty long, so I thought why waste time, I'll go stretch over here. In about 5 minutes, I began thinking "well, even though I don't have to go, might be prudent to queue up just in case." The line had grown considerably. I didn't check my watch, but in retrospect I'm certain I was in line within a couple minutes of 6:35. (race starts at 7:00).

The wheelchair division left at 6:45.

Then the USA Half Marathon Championships started at 6:55.

At this point, I very badly wanted to not be in line, but I 1) apparently never grasped the concept of sunk cost from economics class, and 2) after all that waiting… sorta had to pee. 

At 6:58 I got into a port-a-pot. 

At 6:59 I got out.

And then the gun went off… and I was running a marathon.

I would say everything about that 20 minute timetable is absolutely as ridiculous as it seems. Absurdity abounds!  

Anyway, following strong advice of many veterans (but mainly Jeff), I started slower than I thought I needed to. Also, that helped avoid having to dodge people. I just went with the flow and didn't think much about pace for the first couple miles. (In fact, my first mile would be my slowest until #22).

The Sound

I wasn't sure if I was going to wear headphones, but in retrospect I'm very glad I did. I had music on sort of in the background for the first few miles - at that point I was still very much taking in sights & sounds - a highlight being a local high school drumline during mile 3 - up at dawn on a Sunday. They were awesome. 

The half marathon doesn't turn back at mile 13, they split off at mile 8 and do another route. I figured stuff would thin out a bit there, and I would settle into a nice audiobook to occupy my mind. I was right. Things really thinned out on the back half of the race - further from the city and with a considerable amount of runners taking the half marathon turn. Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of people… but more sprinkled about - certainly not lining the streets. After the split, I decided to continue listening to "A Path Appears" by Nicholas Kristof & Sheryl WuDunn - an insightful and challenging book about using evidence-based strategies to change the world for the better. I stayed with this until around mile 21 when the combination of reader fatigue, muscle fatigue, and depressing subject matter of sex trafficking (to be fair, Kristof & WuDunn were discussing ways to fight the scourge of trafficking… but it's still heavy stuff) had me switch back to music for the finish.

The Pace
Anyway, I settled into a nice little rhythm. In fact, preposterously consistent. Here are my exact mile splits for seven consecutive miles starting with mile 5:

8:40.4

8:40.6

8:40.4

8:39.7

8:40.3

8:40.3

8:40.1

ssssoooo… yeah. right about 8:40 apparently. (the next couple were :47, :37, :41 - a very consistent 10 mile block). After I crossed mile 15, I wanted to see if I could push a little bit and open up my speed. I would have loved to negative split my first ever marathon. Mile 16 was 8:29 and then 8:37 for the 17th mile. I wasn't putting myself in pain - I wasn't at some sort of limit (yet). But I also felt like "no… I don't really have it. I don't have the reserves to go that hard for another 8 miles." The last six miles were still an unknown to me. At this point, I'd only heard stories - that last 10k is the Boogie Man of running lore. 

All I really knew was that each new step I took after 20.14 miles would be the farthest I had ever run. I didn't know how my body would respond. It seemed silly to push hard for a couple extra minutes if it put my bigger goal (sub4) at risk. So I held back and kept my "comfortable" pacing (all things considered).

The Wall

This seemed to work well, and the miles continued to tick away. I entered the zone many runners have labeled "the Wall" (I have enough thoughts on this that it warrants another separate post). Different runners hit the Wall at different times and in different ways. Some as early as mile 18. Others much later. For some, it's a particular physical challenge (a cramping leg muscle for instance), for others it's a full-blown existential meltdown. In short, it seems, your body and/or brain just start to shut down. It's not healthy human activity to run this far, and essentially your natural instincts are looking for an escape pod.

I'm not sure why exactly (probably in no small part due to my conservative early pace), but I didn't really hit the "WALL" the way I've heard it described. Yeah, it was much more difficult at the end, and my time slowed disappointingly - but not drastically. But I didn't stop, or even really consider stopping. I've "bonked" before (in a Half Marathon - you can read about it here)… and I wasn't close to bonking this time. I just kept shuffling along.

That said, it wasn't easy. Jeff had told me he struggled with mile 23 at Houston when he ran it a few years ago, and I promised to get revenge for him. I was actually looking forward to it… I was going to DOMINATE mile 23 (mid-race I'm still thinking in my head "maybe I'll just throw down an 8-minute mile. 8:00 flat. Right there on mile 23. in your face, arbitrary distance!"). And then after that, just two more miles to go - I would basically be done. So basically, I get to mile 23 and I've pretty much finished. Simple.

Well, I get to mile 23, and I'm like "Here it is. This one's for Jeff! Let's do this! Legs… kick it into overdrive!"

… 

… nothin.

Just kept plugging away. When I say "nothin", I mean there was no response. It was like someone else was controlling my legs. I wasn't going terribly slow - but I couldn't quite keep it under 9-minute mile pace. So i just plodded along and racked up a 9:06 for mile 23. Sorry, Jeff.

I had some tightness in my right quad the felt like a potential pre-cramp, and similar tightness in my left hamstring... both of those kept me from digging any deeper trying to go all out for the last 5k. I doubt I could have anyway (see "mile 23" above) - but that erased the illusion. In fact, around that point, my legs were pretty numb, and really felt as if on autopilot. I couldn't really speed up, I wasn't sure I could even stop… just one foot in front of another. Perpetually. But as long as I stayed pointed in the right direction, I was sure I'd finish.

The Finish

As far the the euphoria of "I'm almost there" and beginning to feel better or more motivated… uhhh, no. I never felt that. Not in the final couple miles. Not with a spectator yelling "one mile to go!" Never. Even when I made the final turn at mile 26 and could see the finish line a mere two-tenths of a mile away… still no real "boost". Even crossing the finish line, I'm not sure I'd describe it at euphoric so much as just "boy, sure is nice to not be running anymore." Not until I walked through the post-race hoopla (medals, photos, etc) and got some water (which, frankly, was much much too far from the finish line) did I start to think "Holy crap. I just finished a marathon. That's pretty awesome."

So how do I feel about the performance? Lots of people have been congratulatory - and I appreciate it. I hit my goal and I'm proud of that. But I also am left wondering if the last 3 weeks had played out differently, I wonder how much better my time could have been. I haven't really eaten well since the beginning of Christmas break (that's code for "I've eaten like a disgusting pig for the last month"). In many ways, I was in better shape in early December. What if the marathon had been then? What about the 15 mile run I did at 8:10 pace in mid-November? According to my 10k time, I should be able to run a 3:30 marathon. Did I let up in training? Squander an opportunity? I don't know. I don't want to cast the wrong impression - I'm thankful that I stayed mostly healthy and hit a goal… but maybe this is me realizing something about running that I already knew about other sports: even when they're satisfying, they leave you wanting more. I don't know how many times I played a very good round of golf and left the course thinking about that one missed putt or errant drive. I know I could do better. But how much better?

Little platforms of accomplishment also provide us new vistas of what we're potentially capable of… and that keeps us going - pursuing a better version of ourselves. 

So I guess that's how I feel. I will give myself a quick pat on the back… on my way to signing up for the Chicago Marathon in October...