The Sum of the Run

Every summer Jason and I end up participating in quite a few races. We welcome these events because they provide good motivation to train a little faster or a bit longer. Plus, they are an excellent way to measure your athletic progress. While we were involved in our normal number of competitions this year, they didn’t exactly proceed normally for us. For one, Jason’s pace throughout the season was curiously faster. I, on the other hand, kept up my middling speed nicely until I hurt my ankle and then sluggish limping was the best I could do. Oh woeful foot! As the weather gets frigid and the races dwindle, let us look back on all the sprinting glories and frustrations that have come to pass these last months.

Jason zipped to the finish line at the Thanksgiving Point 5K beating out all but two of his competitors.

For years Jason has been able to outpace me on the track. Every step his long legs take requires two of my own. It doesn’t exactly seem fair but it does give me a lovely excuse for lagging. My quick hubby has nearly placed in several races before but he’s never quite managed a win until this summer. This year he was third in his division not only in the Thanksgiving Point 5K but the Lehi City Roundup 10K as well and then he won 1st in his age group at the Night of the Running Dead. What happened to make that boy so speedy? He got old. Jason’s last birthday placed him in a different age division, an age category where he’s among the youngest instead of the oldest. That bit of help was all he needed to become a leader of the pack. But hey, the dude finishes a 5K in about 22 to 23 minutes; I’d say he deserves some recognition for that whether he’s ancient or not.

We were enthusiastic at the Thanksgiving Point 5K from fresh start to sweaty finish.

Our racing plans had to be halted mid-summer because of my accidental ankle altercation. Ironically, I completed a 10K just hours before I tore my tendon and various ligaments for the second, and hopefully last, time. Leftie took me out of the competition circuit for about 5 weeks. My first race after the injury, Sandy’s Moonlight Run, was awesome because it started at midnight under the full moon but not awesome because I barely crept along its course with my braced ankle. Although I made it to the finish line, I was well behind hundreds of hardly runners. If they had handed out a prize for the pathetically slow but stubborn I definitely would have won it.

I promise I actually was moving when this was taken.

Thankfully, broken parts tend to eventually mend, even scarred silly parts like my tendon. My ankle comeback felt complete when I won 3rd place overall at Easton’s 5K a little over 3 months after I gracelessly wounded myself. Yes, I already discussed this win in another post but what’s the harm in mentioning it another time or two or three? Surely, it’s not an unforgivable sin to continually call attention to what will probably be the sole running triumph of my life.

Moonlit runs in the wee hours of the summer are my favorite so I wasn’t going to let a grumpy ankle stop me from participating in this midnight adventure.

That pretty much sums up the summer season of races for us. Jason ran fast. I ran sort of okay, hurt myself, hobbled along, and then picked it up a bit. We look forward to the spring when the world thaws and the competitions commence. Then Jason can once again conquer the other old men and I can further my longstanding mediocrity.

We Wish You a Hairy Christmas!

Mustaches were hung by lips with care in hopes that St. Nicholas would dig that hair.

Every year for one brief evening we welcome ugly whiskers and hideous jumpers into our lives with open arms. The Christmas spirit is, after all, about accepting the outcasts among us and what’s more untouchable than lip hair so bushy it might transform into a beautiful butterfly at any moment? Therefore, let it never be said that the Sabins are scrooges for not only do we repeatedly embrace the disgusting but we mercilessly force our friends to do the same.

The Ashleys dressed in ugly Christmas shirts instead of sweaters.
The ladies looked nearly lovely dressed in their attire glitches.
Yes, ridiculous comes in homemade.

Last week we held our annual Christmas party and the theme was once again unsightly holiday attire and revolting mustaches. Over twenty chums joined us, primed with their tacky sweaters and even nastier facial hair, as we celebrated the season of stuffing by enthusiastically consuming tacos from Rubios and cupcakes from The Sweet Tooth Fairy. Although our full tummies protested, we boogied away the hours after our meal with some beats from Dance Central and then proceeded to the highlight of the evening: the white elephant gift exchange.

Bart and Brandi wore the grossest sweaters they could find but they weren’t gross enough.
Kenny didn’t want anything to come between him and his clean shave so he opted for fabricated follicles.
Brett and Lauren forgot to bring the ugly to the party.

In our version of the white elephant game the gifts remain wrapped until the end of the frenzy. The uncertainty of what’s under the paper doesn’t stop people from picking favorites though and that makes it all the more entertaining when the present everyone’s been fighting over turns out to be a panpipe CD or a box of chocolates so old an archaeologist would consider it an artifact. The unbridled gift stealing this time took over an hour to finish in what was quite possibly our wildest exchange yet.

Jason's
Jason’s mustache was hideous indeed. It made him look like a disturbing combination of French king and country hick.
The men took foul to a whole new level with their knitted fineries, hefty hair, and flighty sentiments.
Jeremy had to shave his mustache for a business meeting a few days before our party so we mourned his recently deceased facial fur with signage.

It was a diverting evening filled with all the jovial overconsumption and cheesy superfluity you’d expect from the season. We hope those who partied with us enjoyed themselves and didn’t have too much of a lingering bellyache from the night’s constant bombardment of tacos and graphic staches.

Happy Mustachemas to all and to all a hairy delight!

Thankful Fluff

I love to cook. Sadly, Jason and I are not often home long enough for me to do any serious cooking these days but I always insist on preparing a number of desserts for our Thanksgiving dinners whether time permits or not.

I quite enjoy cooking even when there’s an overabundance of it to be done.

This year I made Mayan chocolate pecan pie, sweet potato praline pie with maple sauce, pineapple upside-down cake, and a host of from scratch toppings for banana splits, including marshmallow fluff. As you might have guessed from that long list, I was in the kitchen for 5 or 6 hours baking alongside my faithful assistant Jason. We didn’t finish until around 1:30 in the morning.

Obviously, I only volunteered to taste the from scratch marshmallow fluff we made because I care about the quality of my cuisine.

Despite our grogginess at the time of cooking completion, all of our food experiments turned out well. While everything tasted yummy, the marshmallow fluff was my favorite of our treats simply because crafting it was like creating a magical brew. It mystically transformed from a thin frothy concoction to shiny sticky stuff in a matter of minutes. Maximo Marshmallio Fluffius!

The Mayan chocolate pecan pie I made contained a few extra ingredients: ancho chili powder, Kahlua, and semi-sweet chocolate. Therefore, it was extra tasty.
Jason made a great sous-chef. He happily chopped, washed, or crushed anything I asked.

Thanksgiving was a little crazy for us this year, as always, with our dual family appearances but our pies disappeared quicker than we had to so yeah for that! Yes, not only did our goodies go fast but we were able to hang around long enough to catch a few rays at the park with my family, as is tradition, and chill with the Sabin clan until any and all spare abdominal compartments were overflowing.

After cooking for five hours our kitchen was quite the mess. But no need for disgust, we had it all tidied up by the next day.
My family always heads to the park after our big meal. Sunshine is a good digestive catalyst.

I feel I cannot boast of culinary and familial holiday success though without confessing my secret shame: I didn’t make my piecrusts. How could a food scientist not make her own pastry dough? You don’t need to tell me what’s wrong with that. Next year I vow to create any and all crusts. I would have attempted that feat this time but easily-bungled gastronomic research is best left to when you’re not feeding company. (I have learned this lesson the hard way over Thanksgivings past.)

We ate dinner number two with the Sabins. My stomach did not appreciate this double-supper design.

Being able to see both our families every year on Thanksgiving is a joy and a burden. We enjoy spending this holiday with every single one of our loved ones but it wears us out. We come home at the end of the day exhausted. I guess baking until the wee hours of the morning doesn’t help either but sometimes sacrifices must be made in the great cause for deliciousness. Even with my complaints about the fullness of our Thanksgiving, I must admit that between fluff and family I have much to be grateful for.