Month: June 2012

Today was one of those days where I just didn’t feel like going for a run.  It wasn’t my day off (I already had two this week), but I just couldn’t get motivated to get out and get some exercise.  It is easy to talk yourself out of one day – after all, you worked hard all week.  You just did a race a mere week ago.  It’s cold.  Is that a twinge in your lower back?  Maybe you have a kidney infection.  Better take it easy!  I have said all these things to myself to justify a well-deserved day off.  But, one day turns into two, then a week, and then before you know it, you talk about how you used to be a runner.

Here is my advice. When you don’t feel like running (or walking), put on your sneakers.  That is what I did today.  I put on my sneakers, then I made a strawberry rhubarb custard pie.  It’s a new recipe, and I haven’t tasted it yet, but it looks and smells great.  Once the pie was out of the oven, I decided that to pre-empt the guilt that may come from having a few pieces, I better get out for that run.  I just got back from a 5k and I feel great.  I never get runners high, but now, I am going to enjoy some runner’s Pie!

Runner’s Strawberry Rhubarb Custard Pie

• 3 cups sliced rhubarb
• 1 cup quartered strawberries
• 3 large eggs
• 3 tbsp milk
• 3 tbsp all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 cups sugar or splenda
• pinch of nutmeg
• pinch of salt
• 1 tbsp butter for “dotting”
• one 9-inch crust

For the glaze:

2 tbsp jam with 1/4 tsp water, warmed in microwave

Slice the rhubarb and strawberries and mix together.  Pour into crust and spread out evenly.  The crust is not the main event here, so I recommend just using a premade-frozen one.  I made one from almond flour, butter and a bit of splenda.

To make the custard, mix the eggs, milk, flour, sugar, nutmeg and salt together until velvety.  It is important that it is smooth with no lumps.

Very slowly, pour the custard over the fruit, coating it evenly.  Then, tap and shake the pie a few times to make sure the custard as filled all the voids.  Dot with bits of butter (optional).

Bake in a 350 degree pre-heated oven for about 1 hour.  Take out and turn after 30 minutes. I recommend using a cookie sheet in case the custard spills over.

As the pie cools, microwave the strawberry jam until runny.  Brush over exposed fruit in the pie.  This keeps the fruit shiny instead of dull and dried out looking.

This pie must be served cold or it will run.  I recommend a dollop of whip cream on top.

One year ago, while visiting my Dad on Father’s Day, my sisters both arrived, flushed with excitement after finishing their Johnny Miles 10k race.  Immediately, I wanted what they had.  It was obviously good stuff!  On that day, I made an impulsive pact with them that I would do the race next year.  With their encouragement, I started the couch to 5k program.  It is a 10 week program.  It took me 16 weeks.  The first day, I could not run the required 60 seconds without stopping.  I was discouraged, but kept at it.  Once I finally finished the 5k program, Kathy took me out for a 6k run, to push me into doing longer runs.  There were times on that run that she actually ran backwards, coaxing me on.  She really needed a slap – if only I could catch up to her!  Kelly has a great understanding of the science of running and introduced me to farklets, which I have a love-hate relationship with today.  Kelly is also a big fat liar!  Well, she is not big or fat, but she kept reassuring me that she is slow, making me feel better about my times.  I ran with Kelly for the 10k, and let me tell you, she is not slow!

As feared, neither sister forgot about my commitment; both were prompt in reminding me to register for the race.  Time flew by, and on Thursday I went to Mom and Dads to relax, and get ready for the big race.  During that time I was pampered, and enjoyed every moment.  Dad cooked his elaborate meals, and Mom and I went shopping, my favorite past time in even the smallest of towns.  It was great to be able to sit down and chat with them alone for a few days.

Race day came, and the flight or fight instinct kicked in.  Apparently, I am on the “flight” end of that spectrum, and absolutely everything wanted to leave my body as quickly as possible, in any way possible.  By the time the race actually started, I was sure I was going to vomit before I got across the start line.  Kathryn and Scott came just to cheer me on, and that meant a lot.  Mom and Dad were there, and Murray surprised me by showing up too.  He was supposed to be away for a fly-in in Cape Breton, but came home early for support.  There was no way I could back out now, feigning a severe but short lived bout of leprosy or something urgent enough to garner sympathy and support for quitting.

Kelly and Kathy were great during the race, and kept me on a consistent pace.  Other than Kathy screaming at me to “DIG IN!” in and “Don’t you dare stop!” on one particularly harrowing hill, I stayed on track.  One hour, 4 minutes and 44 seconds later, I was across the finish line, 2 kilometers past empty.  I had run out of fuel and motivation near the end, but somehow found just enough left to finish.  If there is any fairness in the world, that energy came from belly fat.

I never really knew what people meant when they said they hurt all over, until after the race.  I was in agony.  Sweet agony.  Today I can hardly move.  I think my hair hurts.  My pride and self-esteem have never felt better, however.  Next year, I don’t know whether to try for a better 10k time, or go for the half marathon.  What do you think, sisters?  Are you ready for a throw down?