Okay, maybe I didn't win the mega million, but that's what it felt like last week when my mom showed up at my work totally and completely unexpected all the way from the U.S.A. Talk about the best surprise E-V-E-R. I'm pretty sure flying to Europe to surprise someone usually only happens in movies so of course I acted like I was in a movie and promptly burst into tears.
I'm still not sure I'm over what an amazing gift it was to have my mom in Paris this past week. Anytime family and friends visit I feel lucky, but I was particularly excited about my mom's surprise visit because it meant she got to see me run my very first marathon!
Last Sunday, my friend Jayme and I, along with mon mari and our friend Brent, completed the 2012 Marathon de Paris. We trained and fretted for months and months getting our bodies and minds ready for those 42 kilometers, and I honestly can't believe the marathon has come and gone. The physical and mental toll of preparing for such a big event made me an emotional basket case on race day. I was more nervous for this race than I was for my wedding day! I even teared up a couple of times (okay, three times...) along the course just so happy and relieved that I was accomplishing a goal that had once seemed so distant and unattainable. Running the race was made even better knowing I had my mom cheering me on. She deserves a medal for all of the running she did trying to get to different spots along the route. She hightailed it from Bastille to L'île de la Cité to the finish line shouting words of encouragement at every point. Fortunately we had outfitted her with a pirate flag so she was easy to spot :-) I can't thank her enough for making the trip over and being there to see me cross the finish!
That's what my attempt at a gluten-free diet has been-- one huge hot mess. I told myself that after my party in the U.S.A., I'd stopping falling off the gluten-free wagon every time I walked past the boulangerie. I thought I'd done a good enough job of scaring myself by reading the The Gluten Free Bible that I'd return to France with a shield of armor that would protect my mind and mouth from all things gluten, but apparently my armor has some serious chinks. First, Eric Kayser did me in with a praline brioche (which I guilty ate 90% and then shamed myself into throwing the last bite away, ugh). Then I was sidelined by a particularly delicious looking, floury bread basket and soon after, a work event had me stuffing slices of Picard's sandwich dome into every spare crevice of my mouth. Finally just last week, my gluten-free pasta caught on fire mid-boil and I was "forced" to eat regular bow tie pasta (like I minded). Don't ask how it happened. We still don't know how the pasta magically turned into a fiery kitchen spectacle (I'm just glad we have a smoke detector). Mon mari is blaming it on my weird quinoa rice spaghetti. Not fair. There you have it. Major gluten failings. And that's not even all of them. I just can't decide which way to go with the whole thing. One minute I'm freaking out about the effects of gluten on my body and the next minute I'm inviting all the baguettes in Paris to a gluten party in my stomach. I can't pick a team. It's worse than Edward vs. Jacob. So I've decided to play on both sides until I feel compelled to go fully one way or the other. Halfsies you could say. And in the spirit of straddling the gluten line, I thought I'd share a few of my recent gluten-filled and gluten-free Paris adventures. Enjoy!
1. Gelato from VasaVasa (34 Avenue de la Bourdonnais, 75007 Paris). Thank goodness dairy is gluten-free.
2. Gluten Free Pantry's Favorite Sandwich Bread Mix brought back from the U.S. There are only 4 more slices left in my freezer. Someone, anyone, send more mixes! The French gluten-free breads smell like mold. 3. The not so gluten-free mhajeb and pastries from La Bague de Kenza make mon mari's face say MIAM. 4. Heart shaped almond butter cups made using a Mama Pea recipe. I sort of didn't want to eat them they were so cute. 5. Totally gluten-filled cupcakes made for a friend's birthday. Truth? They looked fun, but they're weren't so delicious. Baking fail. But once the party-goers had a beer or two or four, I don't think they noticed.
6. And the best gluten-free adventure of all? Realizing Monoprix sells FAGE. MY LIFE IN FRANCE IS NOW COMPLETE.
Do you have any gluten-free products that make your stomach swoon?
The I word is a sneaky little devil...
It creeps up on you when you least expect it.
It makes you obsess.
It makes you worry.
It makes you second guess.
Have you ever met the I word? You know the one I'm talking about.
INJURY
I recently met him and he's a big jerk. Seriously.
Just before my U.S. vacation, I was rocking a runner's high. I'd joined a running group (yay Planet Jogging!), my marathon training was going strong, and my body was holding up well against the stress of running and cross training six times a week. Well...that feel good train came to a screeching halt...I got injured. Two Saturdays ago I did my longest run yet--19.5 miles and owe 99% of that accomplishment to my best amie who: a) was willinging to run in ridiculous winds ( for real, look at the crazy font the forecasters used for WINDY!) _AND
b) held my hand crossing this bridge (scarier than it looks, imagine the deep, dark ocean below!)
_I felt fine during the run (or as fine as you can running that far), but as soon as I stopped I had a nagging pain in my left foot. Even after chowing down on a big breakfast and lounging around with the dog, my foot still hurt. My sister said my awkward limp actually made me walk like a normal person for the first time ever. I think that was her nice way of saying I walk like Mister Smee. Sweet sisterly love... _I made an executive decision and took a week off because the pain wouldn't go away, and boy did that derail my motivation. Now I feel like my pre-runner self-- not excited about going for a jog and a general Debbie Downer when it comes to putting in the extra strength training. What happened? Bleh!
My foot isn't 100% better and I need a serious kick in the derriere to get back out there and make this marathon happen.
I'm off to stare at the Fitness page on Pinterest for awhile. Maybe I'll find some inspiration looking at all those people with disgustedly ripped bodies...
Psst...Have you ever been sidelined by an running injury? What helped you get through it and stay motivated? Do you have tips for dealing with an injury with 5 weeks to go until race day? Help!
A little over a year ago I was on a plane to Madrid talking to mon mari about running. I told him I thought running 26 miles was just ridiculous and swore up and down that I would never run a marathon. Never ever ever. Never ever ever should be banned from leaving my mouth. Since December I've been planning my weeks around a marathon training schedule and wondering how the heck I got myself registered for running such a silly numbers of kilometers. I may not be fast, super strong, or have a big race under my belt (yet!), but I'm a runner now. I know because I've got the gear and once I've got the gear, I'm in. In like Flynn. But, the transformation to runner started before my latest gear purchase (thank you Planet Jogging!). My running fever boils down to three things: (1) Friends who've inspired me. Holy Hannah I have a lot of copains who get their sneakers nice and worn in. First Richie Rich completed the 2011 Paris Marathon, then Amanda & Marissa did a 10 miler in Philly, then Betsy did a 5K, Elizabeth put her all into Boston, and Dee got 'er done in NY in November. This small list doesn't even include the gazillions of running bloggers who fill me with fitness envy and admiration (um, hi Runner's Kitchen and Lauren's Road Less Traveled). Clearly all the cool kids were doing it and I wanted in. (2) Paris. Paris is usually all that and a bag of chips, but when it comes to exercising on the cheap the city offers few budget friendly options. With a pair of sneakers and a set of workout clothes (and let's not forget a real bra ladies), you're pretty much ready to hit the pavement. Any sport can get expensive when you convince yourself you must have the newest equipment on the street, but you can keep things pretty minimal with running. (Coming from me that means a lot considering I've pinned about 10 running skirts on Pinterest.) (3) Exercising more means I can eat more. Who thought exercising more equaled losing weight? I mean really. That's silly. Clearly when you burn more calories, you should stuff your face. Worst advice ever. Don't listen to me. But it is seriously hard not to use training as an excuse to binge and it is ever so easy to wolf down a few (extra) pancakes after a long run. Mama Pea's Gluten-Free Almond Blueberry Pancakes are keeping me very full and happy. Now I just need to keep all this training up post marathon and beyond. Running for life, yay! (Probably not, but I can pretend I'm down for being 65 and running 5 times a week.) The thing is, a passion for staying fit is what got me into this running business, but it has become so much more than that. Like new friends (Go say hello to Jayme. She's awesome and I'm so thankful for our long runs together!) and winning things. Yep, winning things. I don't care if they're participation medals. Medals are medals and I'll run for fake gold medallions any day.
_If we're talking in percentages, I'm giving the gluten free diet about a 70% effort. 30% of me still wants to plunge head first into the nearest bread basket and swim in a sea of gluten goodness. Those smarty pants health experts weren't joking when they said going gluten free would be hard. But since gluten doesn't have my stomach roiling in pain, I lack the motivation to make hardcore diet changes (even though deep down I know gluten is making me ill on the inside). This means I cheat often and go gluten crazy at least once every few days. These past few weeks haven't been a total wash, but I'm definitely not giving it the ol' college try. To mark the one month anniversary of my semi-gluten free life, here's the highlight reel from the past few weeks. HIGHS--> Finding edible, dare I say enjoyable, gluten free products in Paris. See evidence below. I could eat that sticky date cookie for dessert 3x daily. --> Making The Healthy Everythingtarian's banana custard oats more times than I can count. (Tip: sub in Speculoos for the peanut butter and you'll lick your plate clean over and over and over again)--> Telling the boulanger that I would not like a piece of bread to accompany my salad. He looked confused, and I was sad. _IN-BETWEENS--> Making my own kamut bread (recipe here). It's funky shaped, but I LOVE its weirdness. (Okay, full disclosure--kamut isn't really gluten free, but it has less gluten than other types of wheat...that counts right?)--> Devouring a slice of carrot cake from Sugarplum Cake Shop. Yeah it was bad for me, but you can't count something so wonderfully delicious as a low. It just wouldn't be right. Plus, I was at the bakery for an awesome bag painting workshop with Kasia Dietz. (Can you guess where the quote on my bag is from?)LOWS--> Eating Picard's gluten filled moelleux au chocolat for dessert (more than once). They're just so good. Really they are. I don't care if they're frozen. --> Binging on ice cream because it's an obvious gluten free dessert choice. I'm not proud. So there you have it. The die hard gluten free folks are probably laughing at my amateur attempt to purge myself of gluten, but you gotta start somewhere, and I'm totally okay with taking it slow, real slow.
This is the Paris I love. The one when I'm running across Pont de Sully to L’île Saint-Louis at 6:20 in the morning darkness. Is getting out of my warm bed difficult at that hour, oui for sure, but Paris is a whole different animal before the sun rises and one that I've grown to love as much as my cozy comforter. My predawn Paris is quiet, calm, and collected, not the noisy beast of mid-day when mopeds are zipping, cars are honking, sirens are blaring, and people are up and at 'em blocking your course down the sidewalk. But, a quiet Paris can also be a creepy Paris. You've got your unlit streets, darkened doorways, shady parks, and of course the occasional person who's out and about under questionable circumstances. And because I am a chicken little and more importantly a girl, I take extra precaution when going for runs when the sun is still a few hours away from gracing Paris with her presence. Actually, I take precautions all the time, sun or no sun, when I'm running by myself.
_Anytime I'm running alone, I roll out with this super cool bracelet on my wrist. It screams, "DORK ALERT," but I'm OK with that. The bracelet has emergency contact information in case something happens to me while I'm out running. You know--I slip on a doggie present and twist my ankle or I pass out because I see Johnny Depp strolling along the Seine. Really any number of things could put me in danger. In addition to my name and phone numbers, I also had the bracelet printed with three very important words--"ENGLISH SPEAKING ONLY." I figure if I'm injured the little French I do speak will evaporate from my brain and leave me bumbling so better to let emergency personnel know exactly what they're working with. If you're a runner, and especially if you're a runner in a foreign city where you may or may not be fluent in the language, I really recommend carrying ID and numbers to call in case of an emergency (even more so if you've got a medical condition that puts you at risk.) I might be over cautious, but safe is always better than sorry. Why not be safe when knowing you've taken an extra step to keep yourself out of harm's way means you can enjoy all sides of a city, even the slightly eerie early morning ones? (In case you're wondering, I purchased my bracelet here, but there are several companies that offer this product.) _P.S. Check out this post I wrote for Posted in Paris on running in the City of Light.
I am allergic to gluten. My taste buds just writhed in pain as I wrote that. They're protesting to keep the Parisian pastry parade marching down my gullet. My taste buds want the constant stream of candy and Berko cupcakes to continue making its way into my mouth. And I tend to agree with them, except, except...my favorite pastries, sweets, and gluten filled products are making me sick. Up until a month ago, I never suspected gluten was the culprit causing my anemia. But after doing some research, gluten started to seem like the bad guy. While I don't have any of the digestive problems that plague people with a gluten intolerance, the other symptoms I read about began to match up--unexplained anemia, weird skin rashes, anxiety, fatigue, and tingling in my feet. While these maladies could stem from a number of things, I knew something wasn't quite right. I couldn't be that tired from walking up a flight of stairs...my skin couldn't be that sensitive for no good reason...so I convinced the doctor to order gluten tests. She wasn't so convinced herself, but I proved that M.D. wrong (or rather, gluten did). All three lab tests came back positive and just like that gluten is guilty. On the one hand, I'm happy I have an answer and can move forward with getting my body healthy. On the other hand--HOLY MOLY, I need to stop eating gluten! It's now been two weeks since I've confirmed gluten is the enemy and I haven't come any closer to making significant changes to my diet. I actually at three cupcakes on Friday. Three. It's possible I'm in denial. Very possible. No gluten means no croissants (real ones at least...) and that means serious business. I need to rally the strength to walk by a bakery without stopping (a new route to work is clearly in order) and get into the kitchen to start whipping up my own creations or pastry withdrawal is imminent. I can't imagine that would be very pretty. At least the gluten gods have enough sense to keep dairy safe. I can eat stinky, scrumptious French cheeses to my heart's content. Oh, and macarons too! Hallelujah!
Off to read David Lebovitz's gluten-free guide to Paris and perhaps cry into a bowl of Christmas jelly beans.
"Snacking is a big no no. Snacking will make you fat."
True, if not poorly phrased statements courtesy of my friendly Parisienne friend. As much as I dislike giving credence to one thing or another making you gain or lose weight, there's some truth in my friend's words. How do I know? I never ever spy French women snacking. This isn't a female population that subscribes to the "six small meals" or "eat when you're hungry" philosophy. These ladies stick to three square meals a day and never eat just for the sake of eating. They're weaned off the snack mobile at a young age because they quickly realize they don't have (or want) a growing body that needs extra nutrients. That growing body business is for kids who need to drink more milk and eat more spinach. It's not for the 25 to 55 year old ladies who want to shove a third cookie in their mouth. I'm convinced it's French women's awareness of what their bodies need versus want and the French ability to teach good eating behaviors at an early age that keep muffin top numbers low in Paris.
From what I can tell, French schools and parents have perfected the art of snacking. Kids learn from age two that there's a time for snack and if it's not that time there is no snack. Snack is like a mini meal versus something you do when you're bored or multi-tasking. If you enter a school building at 10:30AM or take a stroll at 4:30PM, you'll see kiddos munching on sliced apples or eating a single pain au lait. A few minutes before or after the designated time slot and you'll miss the snack and that's that. Because this healthy, well-defined relationship with snacks begins early, as adults the French don't go snooping for the office candy bowl or raiding the mini-fridge for someone else's leftovers. Of course, your ability to limit your food intake has to do a bit with your appreciation for food, eating good food, and savoring each bite which the French have down pat, but something must be said for adhering to a strict snacking policy.
I'm not convinced that pure snacking makes you put on the pounds, but I'm pretty sure eating less keeps you tiny. No snack means no calories and fewer calories means less fat. People always want to know the secret to French women's waistlines and here it is: they eat less-->voila! Three cheers for the French!
Signing off to go nosh on something yummy...
It's happening tomorrow. I'm running a race. A 10K. No marathon, but it's a start. Surprised? Me too, but leave it up to Paris to make you do things you never thought you'd do. I've never been in love with running. Sweating on the street doesn't float my boat like it does for some folks. I'm more gym rat than speed racer. But when the fitness DVDs and expensive gym fees weren't cutting it, I turned to running. Pounding the pavement was the next best option considering the amount of croissants I was consuming. Begrudgingly at first, I let Paris make me a runner. Running is still a way for me to eat as many macarons as I want, but now I look forward to the early mornings when not a soul is on the street and I have all of Haussmann's boulevards to myself. Hope you're having a lovely weekend and have a chance to get your fitness on. We'll see how I feel about running after this race biz tomorrow!
 I'm not mad at you anymore now that you're open, but it sure did take you long enough! Club Med, Fitness First--you boys are lookin' old. Fitness Park is here to shake up the Parisian gym scene. Be prepared for a run for yo money you high class gyms you! The 19.95 a month Fitness Park, located near Republique, is ready for sweating after a much anticipated (i.e. DELAYED) opening. Gym rat recruiters have been squatting in a big yellow fan on Avenue de la Republique getting anybody with an ounce of croissant on them to sign up for the gym all before the first treadmill was loaded in the space. Now, the pudgy to the punchy are working out in the non-air conditioned gym, including yours truly.
You can imagine the buckets of perspiration pouring off folks, especially those gents who insist on wearing sweatsuits (major ick). After five visits I can't decide whether the lack of A.C. is part of the gym's low cost model or just one of the final construction touches. (Clearly hoping for the latter.) Despite Sahara-esque conditions, I'm pretty impressed with zee new gym. Treadmills, stationary bikes, ellipticals, and arc trainers abound--I haven't had to wait to get my heart pumping once! Even though not everyone does their part to keep the equipment sanitary (I'm talking to you muscle jock in your tight puma pants!), the cardio room is clean, TV ready, and laid out for optimal people watching. (That's why you go to the gym, right?) The ladies locker room has separate showers (yay for privacy!), hair dryers, and tons of lockers to store your valuables. But, but (and there has to be a but)...I'm the idiot who signed up for the gym that does fitness courses via big screen TVs. We're talking projector style aerobics sans instructor hollering. I'd been wondering when the classes were set to start until I saw a girl doing her best grapevine in the aerobics room all by herself. I learned she wasn't crazy, just doing her fitness class. It was only then I realized I'm not going to be getting any live feedback on my bicep curls and burpies. Silly, silly Linds. Luckily, I'm pleased as punch to have a gym at all and am happy to get my butt in gear running up imaginary treadmill mountains.
Happy hump day from a fit and hip Linds!
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