Joining a Meat CSA

It seems like everyone these days is concerned about their meat consumption. From antibiotic resistance being linked to skyrocketing antibiotic use within the meat industry to the deplorable conditions for animals in factory farms and the effect of giant meat conglomerates on small farmers, there is not a lot to commend about the meat industry. So many people seem to be opting out entirely and forgoing meat consumption. But rather than opting out of the money stream that supports industrially produced meat, why not vote with your dollars and support locally produced meat grown by family farmers?

Late last summer, I heard about Peaceful Pastures Meat CSA (community supported agriculture) program. After Joe and I had completed our Whole30 and I had experienced the benefits of basing my diet around meat, vegetables, and healthy fats, that looked like something we would be interested in. Once a month, we receive 22-25 lbs of locally and humanely raised, pastured chicken, beef, pork, goat, and lamb. It sounds like a lot, but for our diet, we have no problem using most of it by the end of the month. And while the upfront cost is hefty, it averaged out to about $5 per pound, much less than buying the same quality of meat at the Farmer’s Market or a Whole Foods-type of retailer. Because we rarely have to supplement with other meat, I’ve also seen our grocery store bills drop.

An average CSA pick-up includes a couple of whole chickens, several pounds of ground beef, ground pork or lamb, bone-in thick cut pork chops, chuck roast, beef or lamb stew meat, ham slices, and occasionally Polish sausage, bratwurst, a slab of ribs, and bacon. I’ve had to branch out from my normal cooking repertoire, especially with the pork chops, but during the winter, it was so easy to throw in some stew meat, vegetables, and seasoning into the crockpot and have a tasty, comforting stew for dinner.

Most importantly, it tastes delicious. In comparison with grain-fed meat, grass-fed pastured meat is lower in fat and contains more Omega 3s as well as other antioxidants, vitamins, and minerals. However, if you do not regularly cook at home, a meat CSA subscription might not be for you, but I would strongly suggest sourcing the majority of your meat from either a local farm or a trusted butcher.

If you are in the Nashville/Middle Tennessee area, Peaceful Pastures is currently taking sign-ups for May-October, and you can save $40 if you sign up before March 15th. I’m not receiving any compensation or benefits from writing this post. It’s something I strongly believe in supporting and want to publicize. Besides, Colin would want it that way.

On Color Runs, Competitor Group, & Community

This blog post has been brewing in my head for some time now, and while I missed the initial zeitgeist of bloggers slamming Competitor Group (which puts on the Rock ‘N Roll series of races) after announcing that they would no longer pay appearance fees or travel expenses for elite runners, the new year and subsequent resolutions to get fit seems an apt time to pontificate on some of the issues in the running community. Additionally, with the Country Music Marathon (put on by Competitor Group) here in Nashville scheduled for April 26th, many people around me have started training for the half marathon, and I will inevitably start fielding the questions about if I’m running it from those who know I am a runner (the answer is no).

First of all, I am a bit of a running snob but probably not how you think. I literally grew up at community 5Ks. My mother served on the board of the White Rock Marathon in Dallas for years. I was surrounded by running and runners and the running community long before I ever became a runner, long before Color Runs and Glow Runs and bands along a marathon course. At the same time, I am also a firm believer that anyone who runs is a runner. A mile is a mile whether it’s a 5-minute mile or a 16-minute mile. A good race for me is one where I finish in the top 50%. Despite my pedigree, I apparently did not inherit the natural athletic talent my parents and my brother possess. And yet, friends and acquaintances become squirrelly around me about owning their identity as a runner. “Well, it’s not like I run marathons like you.” Who gives a damn? If you run, you’re a runner.

There are numerous pros to for-profit events like the Rock ‘N Roll series, Women’s Running series, or Color Runs. They get people moving. For beginning runners who might be intimidated by a community race, it’s a low-anxiety introduction to running with others. As annoyed as I am every year with the Women’s Half Marathon and it’s pink color scheme and expensive entry fee, there is also something really powerful about running a half marathon with a bunch of other women. (I really am not going to run it this year, I swear.) There are people who wouldn’t do a 5K or a half marathon or a 15K without the incentive of a ginormous medal, getting pelted with colored dust, or having a chocolate fountain or champagne at the finish line. Unfortunately, I fear it is all too common for people to set a goal based on a for-profit event, complete the race, and then call it a day, rather than using it as a stepping stone to further self-improvement and healthy living.

Many in the running community who blast events like color runs have never participated in one, but I have. A friend from Divinity School asked me to join him since his wife was going out of town. I was hesitant but agreed. Unfortunately, the weather was terrible, and the participants huddled under a bridge, avoiding the rain, until the start. We were scheduled for the 8:15 am wave but didn’t get underway until later, our first frustration. There were color stations about every kilometer, and we soon realized that even with holding our breath, we still were inhaling dyed cornstarch. Naturally, I had my Garmin to log my run, and the course ended up being nearly 3.5 miles. An inaccurate course, a late start, no timing system, and running through colored dust. We were also some of a handful of people who actually ran, most walked. Again, anything that isn’t sitting on the couch is great, but let’s not pretend these events are marketed for those who consider themselves runners.

A Wall Street Journal op-ed entitled “The Slowest Generation” attributed America’s lack of competitiveness and drive to events like the Color Run, even going so far as to connect events like these with America’s waning profile in long-distance running. In my experience. color runs/glow runs/zombie runs, etc. are not even marketed to those who would be interested in competitive running. The two markets don’t overlap except in the case of someone like me or others who use event runs as an entry into racing. But to the author of the op-ed, event runs are what is wrong with America, this attitude of bucket list, everyone-gets-a-medal, slacker millennials, etc.

Within the span of three weeks, I participated in Color Me Rad, ran the Women’s Running Series Half Marathon (put on by Competitor Group), and ran a local 15K put on by the Nashville Striders with my husband. By far, the most pleasant experience was the 15K. On an out-and-back course, we got to see the lead, Scott Wietecha, fly by us, and he acknowledged me when I cheered him on. After a difficult last couple of miles, several other runners we had leapfrogged with came up to us in the finish area to congratulate us, bemoan the heat and humidity, and make conversation. There were no medals, but there were a plethora of granola bars, samples of fruit tea from a local restaurant, and something that the previous two runs had lacked: a sense of community.

It does not take long to find criticisms of Competitor Group online. They bus stragglers to the finish line. They’ve run some very shoddy and poorly organized races at times (see: 2011 Las Vegas Marathon). They no longer support the sport of running based on yanking their support of elite athletes. The entry fees are expensive, and then they nickel-and-dime participants for athlete tracking, parking, preferred restroom facilities, etc. But in a capitalist system, they are running a business, so that’s their prerogative. The most I and anyone else who disagrees with their model can do is vote with our dollars and our lack of participation.

But despite the many criticisms, the one thing I find lacking in these types of events is one of the most difficult to express: community. They are missing a community of runners, a community of people who know what it’s like to push yourself, whether it’s to complete the race or to nail a personal record. A community of people who will rejoice with you when you succeed and empathize when you fail miserably. Because whether you run a 13-minute mile or a 5-minute mile, they’ve all been there. They’ve all experienced the highs and the lows – bonking, going out too fast, the disbelief and elation of those numbers on the clock when you’re heading down the final stretch, whether you’ve been running for a year or twenty. In addition to an accurate course and timing, there are endearing qualities to knowing the race director and someone’s little kid singing the National Anthem, qualities that help you know that yes, you belong here, no matter how fast or slow.

2013 in review

I went to Africa, and it was fabulous. I go through periods of intense longing to return, not just for the blue skies and the exotic animals, but because I miss the simplicity of our life there and the friends, ex-pat and Kenyan both, that I made.

I muddled through my first annual parish report, bishop’s visitation, Lent, and Easter as a solo priest. I took the spring off from marathon training and focused more on strength-training. I spent a lot of time in Indiana due to Abby and John’s nuptials in June and the bridal shower before, as well as a half marathon in Evansville and the Indianapolis Marathon in October.

Joe and I traveled to Asheville and Chicago for vacations and to Cancun to celebrate our 5th anniversary. We drank good beer and ate good food and enjoyed time together in nature without the distractions of our normal lives.

We ran the Derby Festival half marathon together in Louisville in April and a 15K together in October.

Both of my grandmother’s died this year, and I presided over both of their memorial services.

I attended my 10-year high school reunion in Michigan, even after it was cancelled for non-participation. And then I went back to Ontario with Abby before travelling down to Indianapolis with Abby and John later. We spent A LOT of time together, which was great. I joked that I should move in with them to cook and clean.

I read 30 books. I ran 1080 miles. I baptized my first baby. I spent time in some of my favorite places and with some of my favorite people. I learned a lot about myself, about leading a church, and about God’s grace and forgiveness. My friends bought houses and got married and had babies and some of them got divorced. We acquired bikes, and I started swimming again.

So maybe 2013 was about learning to be happy in stasis, without any of the big dynamic changes (jobs, school, change in geographic location, etc.) that have seemed to characterize my life up to this point. I guess this is what it’s like to be a grown-up, now at 29, with a refinanced mortgage, a marriage going on six years, three cats, a vocation I love, and real friends.

Here’s to more of the same in 2014 – to travel, to more weddings and fewer funerals, to reading more, to sitting less, to deeper relationships with the people that matter.

Pumpkin Cranberry Nut Bread

I can usually tell the winter holidays are nigh based on my desire to bake. Not that I don’t enjoy baking, but there’s always the inevitable eating (and over-eating) that occurs with an abundance of baked goods around. With a day-long meeting and a baby shower at church, I decided to provide an outlet for my compulsion while I had an avenue for sharing. My poor KitchenAid mixer has been gathering dust since Joe and I have been eating more of a Paleo diet, so I selected this recipe from the Penzey’s catalog.

In a frenzy of kitchen-purging, I got rid of all but one loaf pan, so I improvised and made one loaf and 12 muffins. The muffins took about 20 minutes to bake. At church, people enjoyed the addition of the cranberries, though I used dry because I couldn’t find fresh that week. I do love pumpkin and the texture of baked goods that include it, and I couldn’t let an opportunity to do some rare baking pass by.

Pumpkin Cranberry Nut Bread
source: Penzey’s
Yields: 24 servings

Ingredients
3 1/2 cups of flour
2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
2 tsp grated orange rind
3/4 cup butter (1 1/2 sticks), softened
1 cup white sugar
1 cup light brown sugar
3 eggs
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 15 oz can pure pumpkin puree
1 cup dried cranberries
1 cup chopped walnuts or pecans

Preparation
Preheat oven to 350-degrees. Combine the dry ingredients and set aside. In a mixing bowl, cream together the butter and sugars. Add the eggs, one at a time, mixing after each one. Add the vanilla, pumpkin, and dry mixture approximately 1/2 cup at a time, alternating between the pumpkin and dry mixture until all is combined. Stir in the cranberries and nuts. Divide the batter between two 8x4 1/2 inch greased and floured loaf pans and bake at 350-degrees for 55-65 minutes (or 20-25 minutes for muffins).

Indianapolis Marathon Race Report

It’s been said that one should run the first third of a marathon with your head, the second third with your personality, and the remainder with your heart. I have no idea what “running with your personality” even means, but every repeat marathoner has some way of mentally breaking up the seemingly endless miles. For me, the first half is about staying calm and comfortable and trying not to freak out. The most mentally challenging portion is the section between 13 and 19, and then once I hit 20, I know I’m going to at least finish.

Finish face:

Two weeks ago, I toed the start line of the Indianapolis Marathon. Leading up to the race, I had been traveling and then staying with Abby and John in London, Ontario. John and I completed the final two running workouts of our training plan together, Abby and I logged a swim workout that Wednesday, and I felt good and sharp. Running slightly faster than goal marathon pace felt pretty comfortable, even to where I could carry on a conversation at a sub-10 minute pace without straining much.

My friend Jen and I have a bit of a friendly competition chasing each other’s PRs. Last year, she finished Marine Corps a minute or so ahead of me, which I then bested at Rocket City. Earlier this year, she lowered her time significantly, and while my A goal was to go under 4:40, my B goal was to beat Jen’s PR…until she clocked a 4:27:xx at Chicago the week before Indianapolis. I even told Abby, “There’s no way I’ll beat that!”

On our drive down to Indiana the Thursday before the race, we were stuck in terrible traffic, delaying our arrival until late in the night, and irritating my knees and hip flexors. Then the weather forecast started to fall apart. After putting in some hot and humid miles during the Middle Tennessee summer, I was looking forward to the 40-degree race day temperatures. Until rain entered the forecast. But with anything, there are variables you can control and variables you can’t control. One of the variables I can control is my attitude. Despite stiff knees, lack of quality sleep, and rainy race day weather, I tried to stay positive.

Our hotel was across the street from the expo, so it was easy and quick for us to get our packets. Then we made a Meijer’s run for some race day food, and Abby decided to make spectathlete t-shirts for herself and my dad, which I don’t have pictures of, unfortunately. I made my flat runner trying to account for the weather conditions. If the rain stopped and the sun came out, I could ditch the arm warmers, and the visor would keep the rain (or sun) out of my face. The blue flower symbolizes “Content” from Fellow Flowers.

Sure enough, we woke up that morning to rain, not a heavy downpour but a steady drizzle. My mom’s flights had gotten messed up, and she didn’t arrive in Indy until after 9 pm. She was not up to running the full 26.2 and threatened to not even start, but she lined up in the corral anyway.

John and I before the start. Doesn’t this look like fun?

My race plan was to go with the 4:30 pacer and hang on as long as I could, re-evaluating how I felt along the way. When I got into the corral, the 4:30 pacer was nowhere to be found. I spotted the sign for the 5:00 and the 4:15 pacers and lined up somewhere in between, but I was disappointed and a little panicky. I talked myself down a little bit, knowing I was shooting for clocking each mile somewhere between 10:10 and 10:20.

I didn’t take off my throwaway shirt until two miles in. A woman started talking to me about Marathon Maniacs. She was attempting to qualify with 2 in 16 days and was scheduled for run/walk intervals. It took a while to warm up, but I was right where I wanted to be, maybe even a little faster. I tried to get myself to slow down and relax even though I felt good.

There was a slight hill at mile 3 that didn’t phase me too much, and we spent some time outside of the park before heading back in. Abby was cheering at mile 4, though that was the last time I’d see her until the finish. I was running with a woman wearing a “Birthday Girl” sash and her friend. They were doing the half, but we traded some encouragement. At mile 11, I had to make a bathroom stop, jumping a fence to use some non-race Portolets on a golf course. Then the big hill hit. People around me were freaking out, but I chugged up, one foot in front of the other, logging my slowest mile of the day.

The half-marathon split off at mile 12.5, and by then, I was ready to see them go. The pack thinned out considerably. Mentally, I told myself that the real work was still ahead of me. I came through the mats at 13.1 in 2:13:44, a little faster than on-target. Then, lo and behold, ahead of me was a man in a orange shirt with “Pacer” on the back. “Are you the 4:30 pacer?” I screamed at him, probably a little louder than necessary. “Yes.” “Sweet!” I latched on to him and wasn’t going to let go.

Our pace group was the pacer, me, and another woman named Michelle. We entered a ten-mile out-and-back stretch, and we talked about family, running, different races, etc. I was trying to trust the pacer as we clocked sub-10:00 miles consistently along that stretch. When the wind kicked up, our pacer told us to draft off of him. I was looking for John to be coming back the other way and got a little nervous when the 3:30 pace group went by with no John in sight. I saw him later than I expected to and knew he wasn’t having the race he had hoped, but he yelled, “See you at the finish line!” so I wasn’t too worried. We lost Michelle at an aid station, and the pacer told me to go ahead. Suddenly, there was the turn-around, just past mile 19. Thanks to Iain, our fabulous 4:30 pacer, I had gotten through the most mentally difficult stretch without a second thought.

When I passed the 20-mile marker, I did some quick math in my head. To break 4:30, all I had to do was keep at least an 11:00 pace, which felt completely possible. Every mile faster than that was that much more under 4:30. Physically, I felt great. Despite the rain, I didn’t feel any chafing or blisters though my quads were substantially fatigued. The out-and-back was fun because I got to see the other runners and cheer on my fellow Maniacs. The volunteers, other runners, and photographers told me I looked good, and this time, I actually believed them. I was passing a lot of people and tried to give them some encouragement to keep going.

From studying the course elevation chart, I knew the last mile was uphill to the finish. Cruel but necessary. I started to put the hammer down past the 24-mile marker, as we headed back through the park. By this time, we had run this stretch at least 3 other times, so it felt familiar, and I knew where I was in relationship to the finish line. The last mile WAS uphill. As hard as I was working, my pace kept dropping. Finally, we were out of the park for the final push to the finish. The rain had stopped, and the cloud cover lightened. Only then did I peel off the arm warmers.

I knew I was within striking distance of Jen’s PR from Chicago, as I hit the 26 mile marker. My parents were there yelling and cheering and I threw them my arm warmers and kicked it into my last and final gear. My mom said she told my dad, “She’s after Jen’s time.” Abby & John were near the finish chute cheering as well.

I started to tear up like I always do at the finish and hit my watch as I crossed over the mat. I didn’t even need to look at my time to know that I ran a hell of a race, that it didn’t matter if I’d beat Jen’s time or not because I knew I ran sub-4:30 by a few minutes. 4:26:59. Official time – 4:26:52. Nearly a 15-minute PR, a negative split, and a better race than I could’ve imagined. Mom, Dad, Abby, & John met me just outside the finish chute. I couldn’t really speak when my mom asked me my time; I just held out my watch.

My mom had ended up running the half. Weirdly, we were running nearly the same pace but never saw each other. John finished his first marathon in 3:51 after struggling with some cramps. His race report is here. Abby and my dad, then joined by my mom, were miserable, cold, and wet for the morning, as it turned out the course wasn’t very spectator-friendly. Once we traded brief race stories and I had stopped crying from joy and exhaustion, we ATE. The post-race party included hamburgers, brats, baked beans, coleslaw, and cookies. I never know what might sound good after running that distance. The thought of baked beans turned my stomach, but the hamburger, coleslaw, and cookie was delicious.

After all of that, I was ready to return home victorious and see Joe, having been gone for 10 days.

Next up: Adventures in Canada!