Mother of a Meatball for Marathon Moms

Dear Reader,

The leaves are just beginning to appear on the trees, I am woken early each morning by the cacophony of birds newly returned to town, and my blood is already 22% rosé, which can mean only one thing - it's time for everyone to start running marathons. You think I'm joking? 

Each spring, mommies emerge from their winter hibernation, shed their yoga pants, squeeze themselves into running tights and hit the road. I never understood this phenomenon, indeed I used to boast that I never ran unless being chased, but then I had kids. Running long distances requires dedication, perseverance, decent shoes, and a great deal of time - time ALONE. You see where I'm going? 

Making the commitment to train for even a half-marathon enables you to strap on your sneakers, pop in your headphones, and blast Cher for an hour or two - or three if you are really really slow - and nobody is going to complain! Personally I have run a full marathon, three half-marathons, and this Sunday I'm running another half. Judging from the pain in my glutes (I can call them that because, as I said, I'm a marathon runner) this might be my last. So I'm going to go out with a bang, and am serving up the perfect post-race repast.

Enjoy.

Mother of a Meatball for Marathon Moms

You will need:

Meatballs
Tomato sauce
Olive Oil
Garlic, thinly sliced
Fennel Seed
Oregano
Crushed Red Pepper
Sugar
Beer
Parmesan
Ciabatta Roll


First of all, get yourself some meatballs the day before your race. You can make them yourself, buy them ready made, who gives a shit, you're running a marathon. You're going to be really tired tomorrow, and you're not going to want to be cooking, so in addition to packing your race gear, you're making one hell of a sandwich, whose image and aroma you can think about on those long miles instead of thinking about how much your feet hurt from kicking so much ass. 

Prepare the meatballs. I like to get vegetarian meatballs and brown them in some olive oil. You are a big girl, you can decide what kind of balls you like. Into a sauce pan, pour a few glugs of olive oil. When it's heated, add the garlic. I like to add four cloves because I'm like that. Don't cook it for too long, and add a half teaspoon of fennel seed which you've used your massive muscles to grind in your mortar and pestle. Also add a teaspoon of oregano, a pinch of crushed red pepper, and a pinch of salt. Then pour in a can of tomato sauce. Let this all simmer for about thirty minutes, then add a pinch of sugar. Pour this on top of the meatballs. In the morning, slice up your ciabatta, drizzle on some olive oil, and put the meatballs and sauce in the slow cooker to warm. 

After the race, don't even stop to shower, unless you've soiled yourself, in which case by all means, shower, but leave on your medal so that everyone can see what a champion you are. Dump as many meatballs as you can fit into the ciabatta roll, top with a fistful of Parmesan, and enjoy with a cold beer, before registering for your next race. You deserve it.

Running on a Fantasy of French Toast

Dear Reader,

Tomorrow morning I will rise before the sun, don layers of something called "Capilene" and fleece, as well as sneakers, and set off for Central Park where I will run for somewhere around two hours.  It is the Manhattan Half Marathon, and something possessed me to sign up for it.  My goals are twofold:  to finish, and to leave my pants unsoiled in the process.  I've been working my way up to running 13 miles, so I should be able to make it, fueled by thoughts of the massive He Man breakfast I will devour when I'm done.  Think of me tomorrow, as it will be snowing here in NYC and I will surely be freezing.  I just hope I get some sort of medal that I can wear as an everyday accessory, perhaps pinned to the front of a turban.

What feast will be the subject of my race day imagination?  Fitness Test French Toast, of course - great slabs of brioche soaked in a custard of egg, milk, vanilla, and cinnamon, griddled to a golden brown perfection in a butter-laden skillet and topped with apples simmered in more butter (don't give me any Paula Deen crap - I will have run 13.1 miles and I bet Mrs. Deen can't even drive that far without needing a breather) and brown sugar, then anointed with a generous pour of maple syrup.  Oh yeah, and sausage.  There will be sausage.

Wish me luck.

Breakfast of Wannabe Champions

Dear Reader,

As most of you know, the NYC Marathon was today and it was won by a man from the good ole’ US of A for the first time in 27 years. Still in my pajamas, drinking coffee and nibbling on bacon dipped in syrup, I sat on the couch and listened to the commentators as Meb Keflezighi ran his last 2.6 miles to the finish line. They passionately described his struggle, how his family fled war ravaged Eritrea and his parents raised their eleven children in the US, all of whom graduated from college. With tears in my eyes, I watched him cross the finish line as the commentator said, “A great champion and a wonderful person.”

I would like someone to call me a great champion and wonderful person. But that’s not going to happen unless I get out of these pajamas. I have never had any desire to run a marathon, fearful of course that that I would be one of the runners to lose control of their bowels. But perhaps, with a little precaution and some proper training, I, and you too, may one day be great champions. So today I offer a little training advice and some sustenance in case you are thinking about running in next year’s marathon. And as I watched the women runners, noting that they have glutes where I have a booty, the idea has some appeal.

Breakfast of Wannabe Champions

You will need:

Eggs

Bacon

Running Shoes

iPod (or other mp3 player)

Sweat pants

Bathroom

On the first day of the rest of your life, spring out of bed and immediately put on gym clothes. Gym clothes should be the ratty old variety for reasons to be made clear momentarily. Since you are now a marathon runner you can eat a big breakfast so crack five eggs into a bowl. Heat up the stove and place six strips of bacon in a pan and fry, turning once until nicely crisp. While the bacon fries, load up the iPod with motivational music of your choice. For me this includes Duran Duran, Jai Ho and songs by skinny women like Madonna and the Spice Girls, also some of my kids’ soundtracks like Madagascar (I Like To Move It) and of course the theme from Speed Racer. Put a lot of butter – remember you’re an athlete! into a non-stick skillet and dump in the eggs. Scramble over low heat as you scramble to find the running shoes you bought two years ago on your last fitness kick. When done, plop the eggs onto a plate like you normally plop your fat ass onto the couch about this time of day. Place the bacon next to the eggs and drizzle with syrup (trust me). Eat entirety with coffee or red bull and a Gatorade.

Go to the bathroom! Make sure that you eliminate all contents of bowels lest they do they job themselves while you’re on the treadmill. In case of incontinence, either due to age or vaginal delivery, place some sort of diaper-like device such as a Poise pad or a kitchen sponge into your undies. Then hit the gym!

On treadmill, start at a good pace like a 16-minute mile. Gradually increase by one minute per mile until you reach six miles or vomit. Afterward, don’t forget to stretch! If the pain is unbearable do not fear – tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life, and it’s never too late to take up competitive eating.