One more move...

I thought once all of my boxes were unpacked (again) in my apartment, that would be the end of my moving around. At least for a little while.

But then again, that would make life too easy.

So I've moved my posts once more to it's new home -- same me, same attitude, more content. Come visit my new blog to keep up with me!

It's here, it's here!

My new site is finally up and live! My blog, recipes and other random pieces of information are all present and accounted for...I hope.

Please visit me over at Lena M. Hanson for more!

Getting back to my basics...

With everything else going on right now, the one thing I've been able to take advantage of is the opportunity to be able to really think about where I came from, family that raised me, where I've been so far, the friends I've made, along with some of the places I still want to go and people I still want to meet.

When I think about how I grew up, one of the things I keep going back to is food. The growing of it, supplying it, cooking with it, discussing it, sharing it, and simply enjoying it. Growing up on a farm outside of Chicago, the one thing that always brought our family together was food:

• Daily lunches with my dad and grandpa, listening to Paul Harvey and the commodity commentary while eating whatever my 5-year old hands could make - those were the days of a lot of macaroni & cheese and canned green beans
• The treat of fresh asparagus picked from our ditches the same day
• Those 3 - 4 sweet weeks each summer that I was able to spend picking and gorging myself on the most delicious black raspberries that grew wild all over our barnyard
• Getting in the crop of sweet corn that my grandpa planted each year just for me to sell to earn my spending money for the Sandwich Fair
• Joining my grandpa and dad on the trips to butcher/meat locker in Earlville to take in that season's pork bellies, the product of which either stocked our deep freeze or was traded for a side of beef from the neighbor down the road
• That unbelievable smell of dried corn cobs on the grill - to this day, I've never found a better burger than those grilled up over those cobs
• Climbing up into the fort my grandpa built in our main apple tree, or hiding out under our giant weeping mulberry bush, to read and daydream
• Sitting with my great-grandmother for our daily afternoon coffee and cookies
• Waiting in anticipation to see what treats my great-uncle would bring out from the city for our holiday dinners - the biggest shrimp I'd ever seen and fresh shark steaks were my favorites
• The jars of homemade black raspberry jam my grandpa hid under the Christmas tree every year from the time Smuckers started the "seedless only" crap (that's another soapbox, please stay tuned) up until the year he passed away

I could go on forever listing memories that somehow connect my family and food. So I am starting to understand why, when everything else around seems to be up in the air, I always go back to food for comfort and to help put some pieces in place. 

As I read through the list above, there are other key themes that stick out: family farms, locally grown, seasonal/fresh produce, self-supporting community and education. All of which help to explain why new recipes and food finds are a part of every phone call with my dad, going to the farmer's market always makes me giddy, the idea of a community food swap inspires me, and supporting local farmers and business simply makes sense. 

Because it's how I was raised and an inherent part of who I am today. 

So going forward, please don't be surprised by the amount of recipes and cooking stories, drooling over restaurants and menus, and other random food-related excitement that I will be sharing. It's just how us "Chicago[land] Fat Kids" roll and it's about time I owned it.

Home?

A couple of weeks ago I took off for what was supposed to just be a standard weekend in New York (well, Jersey City to be exact) for a housewarming for two of my girlfriends. Over two weeks later, I finally arrived home. Or at least, back to Boston.

Up until this trip, I hadn't really considered going back to NYC. I've only been in Boston a little over a year, and things have mostly been good. I haven't really had any reason or motivation to even consider leaving.

While I was down there, the Groupon gods smiled upon me and offered up a 50% discount to the BlogWorld & New Media Expo the following week. So with my friends' blessing to reserve their couch, I bought a 1-day pass in order to get to the only two sessions that happened to be touching on the use of social media in financial services, which is kind of my white whale. The pass also included entry to all Keynote sessions, BWENY parties and the exhibit hall. I was in heaven.

The people I crossed paths with and the lessons I learned - and am still processing - were priceless. The extra time in the city also allowed me to do something I haven't let myself do in years. I let myself get absorbed back into the city itself. I walked around aimlessly, visited some of my favorite shops and restaurants, walked past my old apartment and just let myself remember the way it felt when I was there in the beginning.

And thus opened Pandora's box. By the end of every other trip I've made back, I'm usually chomping at the bit to get back to Boston. But not this time. Each day I spent down there just made me feel a little bit more unsure and lost. Maybe that's because of everything else going on in my head...career change, grad school, family. But what I'm starting to realize is that for the first time in years, I'm not on an "full speed ahead" track. I'm stuck in the slow lane and being forced to take in everything that's around me. I can't afford to work with blinders on right now and not knowing what is coming down the road is scarier than anything else right now.

Back on Board?

Or at least back to #Fitblog? I think it's been at least 6 months (yikes, maybe even a year) since my last attendance.

Over the past year, I haven't posted a thing here. Not one meaningful post. Not here. However, that doesn't mean I haven't had thoughts and ideas and opinions - please, I have more than enough of those to go around. Just ask anyone who's spent more than five minutes with me.

So considering all of the projects and "to-dos" I have flying around in my head, calendar, my Evernote and iProcrastinate apps, and any one of the 7 notebooks I have laying around my desk, kitchen table, living room coffee table, etc. (getting an idea of my insanity yet?) - I figured what better way to give myself a jolt than sharing my Tuesday night with the other Fitbloggers out there.

And, oh, were they out there. Rumor has it there were almost 180 in attendance last night. Almost 180 individual sources of inspiration, ideas and motivation. If that didn't jump start SOMETHING, I'm a lost cause.

Last night's discussion was titled "Insane Satisfaction or Simply Insane?"and centered on some of the underlying nuts and bolts of blogging, including how we manage (or in my case recently - not manage) the time commitment and the ups and downs. What better topic set for my first night back?!

With all of the other projects and commitments I have going on, where does my blog fit in? And then, what fits into my blog?

I can't possibly be the same person I was a year ago. I'm in a whole new city, with more opportunities ahead of me than I can keep track of and that recurring feeling like I have a reserved seat on the corner of "I'm in SO over my head" and "WAIT! I think I get it!".

Maybe if I just keep making lists and checking things off said list, somehow I'll figure it all out?

Really? It's been that long?

I know I'm overdue for an update. The last year or so has been a bit hectic from the move to Boston (yeah - I got and took that job) to leaving said job to pursue my dream career and juggling everything in between.

There's been laughs and tears, bumps and bruises (literally), 3 laptops, 4 iPhones and a lot of other fun along the way. So in an effort to continue to look and move forward, I am in the midst of revamping this blog and will be incorporating it into a brand new site.

I'm a big girl now, it's time to act like it.

Could it be? Who knows?

Yes, I'm humming along to a song out of West Side Story, to myself. And that may be one of the least crazy things I've done this weekend.

There is so much running through my mind, I've been doing everything imaginable to wrap my head around it.

• Thursday I decided to give up coffee. Cold turkey. And I've surprisingly not killed anybody. So far.
• Friday I gave myself a Picasso-worthy sunburn sitting in my beach chair for the first time this season with some girlfriends trying to talk out some of the issues. Followed by a 3 mile + walk with 3 very energetic Italian greyhounds.
• Saturday I tried to beat it all into making sense by doing my Pilates class, followed by a kickboxing class, followed by a 1 mile walk home, followed by a 5 mile bike ride which was then followed by an hour of restorative yoga. Which was all followed by a verrrrry long nap.
• Sunday I opted/tried for a more zen approach. I had a leisurely morning, enjoyed a very healthy breakfast, a relaxing walk to get a manicure, a chance run-in with an old friend who I haven't seen in over a year, another walk along the water to meet another friend on the beach, followed by a relaxing dinner at home - tucked comfortably in a pair of sweats and my Boston sweatshirt and a Red Sox game on in the background.

And through all of this I'm weighing my decision to go up to Boston on Tuesday in pursuit of what very likely could be a dream opportunity for me. There aren't many days that go by that I don't wonder what my life would be like if I was in Boston right now, as I had planned to be last winter. But at the same time that would mean letting go of my life here in New York. A life I love living. A beach outside my front door, friends all around, with Manhattan just a few miles away. And the thought of giving this up leaves me more than a little bit apprehensive.

I remember when I was first working on putting together my move to Boston, I had begged my dad to come out here to help with the drive up. Not so much for the physical loading, unloading, etc. but to help me leave this part of my life behind. Even moving from Chicago didn't cause that much emotional effort, not beyond the usual settling in that is normal. But leaving New York? This was my life. I have been on my own 100%, no safety nets, all by myself from the beginning. I had to figure out my place all on my own. So am I now ready to leave it all behind?

I knew last fall that moving to Boston would be a move like none other. Right now I imagine that I will be back in New York (on the beach, of course) in the matter of 5-10 years. But really? Who knows?

Right now all I am I really convinced of is that something is on the verge of happening. And as anxious as I am about the implications, I am also finding it hard not to jump out of my skin waiting to find out what's next.

Sometimes you just need to keep going

I have had a lot of struggling runs lately, related to everything from the weather to leg pain to hangovers to no sleep to moving to St. Patricks Days (yes we've had at least 4 so far, with 1 more to go) and on and on and on. Tonight started out like one of those runs. It was colder than I had hoped and the wind was picking up with every step, and of course it switched directions everytime I made a turn.

But then this funny thing happened. I passed this guy I've seen out almost every time I've gone out for a run. I must have passed him a hundred times in the past, given the obligatory nod but just moved on.

Tonight I was struggling so I was looking for someone else who was struggling as much, if not more, than I was. And there he was. Slowly chugging along at an excruciatingly slow jog. I smiled and continued down my warm-up path. I made it to the end of the boardwalk and turned around, absolutely dreading that little voice in my ear to pick up the pace for the next 5 minutes. And I'm miserable. Abso-friggin'-lutely miserable. As in I contemplated taking an alternate path home and cheating out of the rest of my run.

And then I turned the corner. And there he was chugging back along. Still going. In his Mets hat, Mets jacket, Mets shorts (yes apparently somebody did buy them) and his old Walkman that I'm sure was a hand-me-down from a grandkid with the '86 World Series playing.

And the biggest smile on his face. He waved over to me and started cheering me on. Little Miss Doom and Gloom, who half a block earlier was ready to quit. And I started laughing.

And I spent the rest of my run thinking: Someday I want to be just like that guy (in Cubs or Bears gear of course). Mid-70s, a little softer around my middle than I am now, moving slower than I ever imagined was possible, but spending every step just happy to be there. Out in the fresh air, steps away from the ocean and alive.

And the only way I'm going to make it there is if I keep chugging along. Although hopefully at a better pace.

Just one of those days...

You know "those days". When just about everything gets on your nerves.

• The guy on the bus next to you that insists on spreading his legs 10 feet. Seriously?! No way you need THAT much space.
• Guys that fit into skinny jeans 1000x better than you do.
• Putting together your "healthy" coffee at Starbucks, only to realize afterwards that you picked up the half/half instead of the skim milk.
• 4 year olds that kick my ass snowboarding (only exception being my niece but she's just awesome).
• People that walk 4 across down the sidewalk - under scaffolding.
• Friends that say "oh I'm not hoping for a good time, I just hope I can finish" and then turn in a 28 minute or under 5k.
• The loud cell-phone talkers, about nothing that couldn't wait 45min, on your usually very peaceful ride home.
• That girl who insists she is only competitive with herself and then proceeds to put you under her microscope through every pilates and yoga class you are unfortunate enough to have with her.
• The boots you were so excited to find that fit over your calves, only to find out they are actually somehow TOO big and start to slip down every 15 steps.

And really all of this is stuff that normally just rolls off of me, but I'm sitting here in the middle of the catastrophe that is my apartment with a moving date that just got bumped up a week to THIS Sunday. And I'm downsizing from a beautiful 2-bedroom into a junior 1-bedroom (but with a real kitchen and dishwasher).

So this is really just one of those days where all these little frustrations to be vented and blame placed elsewhere. Because I'm at that funny point where I'm torn between pulling my hair out and screaming, just throwing everything out the window and saying "screw it", and the more appealing option right now of curling into a wimpering ball and pretending none of it is happening.

And then there is the idea of just lacing up and running. Preferably long enough that little magical fairies will come and pack and move my crap for me. With pixie dust and sparkly wings. Quite frankly, that seems almost as realistic as the idea of me actually getting all of this finished on time.

Stumblings. And ramblings.

First things first: Yes. I'm still doing the marathon. And yes. It's the one IN Dublin. In Ireland.

But yes - the past week or so has been a struggle in so many areas (recurring shoulder injury, unusual knee pain, snow/ice that just won't end, tragic news from my hometown, and I'm moving in about 2 weeks). So I've given myself permission to recover through Friday night. But come Saturday morning, vacation's over buddy.

Instead of moping and whining through my injury(s) and training hold-ups like I normally do, I opted to ask for some advice. Trust me, this is a major life-altering event.

One of these people that I've been fortunate enough to get to know is a great personal trainer/martial arts instructor. He has been (and hopefully will continue to be) nothing short of an amazing resource. He's that kind of guy that you really want to like, until you've taken about 5-10 minutes of one of his kickboxing classes. Then you are calling him every name in the book. And I spent almost all of my "formative language" years surrounded by guys so I have quite the extensive vocabulary. And then he'll just stand there laughing. And demanding more jumping jacks. And guess where I will be spending my Saturday morning?

All this aside, I have a feeling he will be a huge help in other areas of my training: helping me clarify my goals/expectations for the Tabata training I want to add in to my regular routine, getting me to consider "joint mobility" and conditioning exercises as beneficial, and sparking an idea for a new fusion/bootcamp class we (we = he, I and my yoga/pilates pal) are working on putting together. Just wished he liked to run, I'm pretty sure I'd put out better times just trying to run away from him for fear of having to do more jumping jacks afterwards.

Oh yeah, the last one is huge. I'll talk more about that later. It's super-top-secret. Well not really. Let's face it, I have a big mouth. But it's not quite ready for release yet. Yippie! I'm actually really excited over this...

Through all of this, what I'm really starting to learn is that I have this idea, it's a little fuzzy but it's there dammit, about all the pieces of my training being codependent. I just need to try all the pieces out in different ways to figure out the best fit/combination. And there's nothing more that I enjoy than figuring out the solution to a puzzle.

Especially when there's Guinness at the end. Guinness makes everything better.

It's only 4-minutes long - how bad can it be?!

Ha! HA! HAHAHAHA!

It's called a "tabata" interval and it's a royal bitch from hell. Yes that's my official review. And I apologize to anyone I have offended.

However, it's also effective.

Simple concept: 20 second sprint, 10 second recovery, repeated 8 times. You can use this with whatever exercise you want. Tonight I chose to use it as a warmup to my planned easy run.

I made it through 4 of the repititions before I thought my chest was going to explode. I did however make it through the rest of my run and I have to be honest, I felt cleaner and stronger at the finish.

The next step will be to add 1 repitition each week until I get to the full 8.

Now excuse me while I finish coughing up a lung.

Rocky Road to Dublin - part 1

So a few months ago a friend of mine ran the Melbourne marathon and thought it would be a great idea if a group of friends found a destination marathon to run together. Ideas were thrown out: Jamaica (rum, sun in the winter, ocean - all good), Chicago (hometown pride, Goose Island beer - also good), New York (impossible for all of us to get in - very bad).

Then came the suggestion that I swear made me hear angels singing: Dublin.

Dublin.

Dublin means Ireland. Ireland means Guinness. I'm in.

This was last September. It's now February. Am I ready? Not. Even. Close. Am I still going? Absolutely. I think.

Considering I agreed to this while being rum-soaked in the Keys, I could just blame it on the alcohol and bail. But that would be wrong. And the truth is I want to run this. Seriously.

But I'm still freaking out. I just started taking my running seriously again a little over a year ago and there is still a real love/hate relationship between me and running. And yes, a marathon was in my plans. Eventually. Down the road. So yes, I have doubts about this all the time. A 5-6 mile run now is something I consider a "long run" and I'm going to run 26.2? Oh boy...

And the best line came from my dad of all people: "You're planning on running a marathon in Dublin?...It's just not like you to run PAST a bar. I'm not sure you'll make it baby girl." - Thanks Dad.

True. I always thought my first trip to Dublin would involve a raucous group of friends and lots of Guinness. But as for the rest I thought about things like: catching a rugby game or 2, maybe some (cold) surfing, good food, lots of sweaters, great pubs and just taking it easy. A marathon was never in my list of "Things To Do In Dublin".

And I recognize that there is more to it than just the running. I've been cross-training like a fiend (Power 90, pilates, yoga, gym cardio, etc.). My nutrition has take a huge turn for the better, trying to focus on whole, unprocessed foods. My average weekly alcohol intake has been cut by approximately 75% and that involved giving up my beloved Saturday night dart league. Which means there are now more Saturday nights spent on my couch than ever before because I WANT to be fresh for early morning yoga on Sundays. I'm getting up at 5am daily to get my first workout in. I've come to appreciate the real value of a regular pedicure (even if it only last a few days), and then I spend almost my whole pedicure appointment apologizing for the condition of my feet. And there will be more changes coming.

But still the question remains: Am I really ready for this? I'm still not sure. But I'm doing it anyway.