Monday, January 26, 2009
I believe that coffee shops and other enablers gain financially from the addictions they cleverly sustain in two populations: office workers and, weirdly, runners. My club convenes at a coffee shop before and after running sessions. Gels and other "energy" sources (I won't call them food) contain caffeine (my favorite is not named Espresso Love for nothing). Caffeine is a marathon drug that quickens the blood, enabling us to do more, faster. Is that the main purpose of running and work? Only tyrants would agree. In defiance of this ridiculous association between my work, my sport and my unconscious desire for coffee, all which work together to make someone else rich and leave me dehydrated of coins and fluids, I am loosening my iron grip on the mug. For the last month, I have been greeting the day with a cup of coffee substitute and I tote a thermos of jasmine tea to drink at the office. I'm trying to wean myself off of the daily dose so that coffee can enjoy a new status in my life, that of a treat, and thus release me from its shackles – a reference to the theme of freedom in my life. We shall see how well I manage. It's a big change. And one day, the tea will have to go, too.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Later, by the butter yellow light of a kitchen lamp,
I bake nutrient vehicles masquerading as
oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Philly Cheesesteak: the ultimate intersection of running and food.
I had never laid eyes on this classic menu item before travelling to its native city to run the marathon. I had heard of it, and had idealized it into a food of mythic proportion.
The day before the race we strolled through a random market and stumbled upon a rowdy crowd of hungry eaters waiting for one man's interpretation of this classic cuisine as he prepared them one by one in his stall kitchen. He pounded the frying meat on the grill until it formed soft strips, which were then shovelled into a submarine bun loaded with condiments. The sandwich in its entirety filled, and I mean filled, the brown bag it was shoved into.
Note the sweatshirt logo of the female customer as she fixes her gaze on her greasifying lunch: "unathletic."