Bell Organics Co-Op

For the past 8 weeks, I have been volunteering 4 hours/week at Bell Organics, a local CSA. CSA stands for Community Supported Agriculture, and it run slightly different than a Co-op (Co-Operative), but the idea is basically the same: you pay a price and pick up a share or box of locally grown food. My dad found Bell Organic and, as a (very generous) Christmas present, purchased me a summer veggie share. I started getting their emails, and found out that I could volunteer and receive an extra veggie share, or in my case, 2 extra fruit shares! Knowing how much food I eat, this was an offer I couldn't refuse! Sure, eating this way is expensive, but finding ways to cut corners like this (or buying in bulk, making friends at the farmer's markets, shopping at Costco...) really can make all the difference...not to mention it's delicious, AND organic!

 Volunteering has meant doing one of three things: planting, weeding, or harvesting. It has been the perfect amount of gardening for me, as a novice. I go for a long, hot shift, get my hands nice and dirty, learn about placement of certain crops, natural pesticides, and composting, then call it a day and don't have to think about it for another week. The Bell family farms on a huge scale of 25+ acres (compared to my future garden), and it can be mind-boggling to think of all the hard work that goes into making it succeed. Patiently squinting down at the weeds drowning around the tiny fragile carrots, aggressively whacking down kale, chard, and lettuce, bending over backwards to plant 2,500+ tomato plants in dozens of varieties; this is just an average days work of food production on the farm. This last week I spent most of the shift wading through a maze of pea vines, picking the obvious ones inching towards the sun, then picking up the vine and feeling the drooping weight of...more peas? Within arms length I could easily find enough sugar snap peas to hold me over til my next meal. The density of this and all of their other crops has me nearly dumbfounded on a weekly basis!

Working extremely part-time on a family operated farm has changed the way I look at food. Good food means hard work. Hard work should pay well. Therefore, good quality food ultimately costs more. The shorter of a chain to which you pay your money, the more money the farmer earns. So next time you pass a farm stand on your way to the grocery store, give it a chance and try what they have to offer. Regardless of where you end up buying your food, remember: whole, fresh, ripe, raw, organic, and if possible, local really is best.

No More Marathon!

I am ready to take a break from distance running, now that my marathon is good and DONE! I cannot say that I will never do it again, although if you had asked me right after I finished, I would have sworn on my mother's grave that I wouldn't dare. It is too soon to say, but I think I can see myself running 26.2 again, but at least not for another year or two (or more). It was well worth it though, if not for any other reason than that I can look at myself in the mirror and say honestly, "you are a Marathoner!" It gives me a fantastic sense of accomplishment.
As for race day, my biggest regret is sadly wearing my Vibram Fivefingers. I love these shoes, and have no regrets buying them, it just wasn't smart of me to have only had 2ish months of training in them before the big day.
The longest I had tracked in them previously was only 15 miles. Around mile 18 on race day, my feet started to give and I kept telling myself, "keep moving, every step it gets closer, keep moving, don't you dare walk" until I could not help but limply-jog to the next water station (which, up to that point I would swig a water, toss the cup, all while still moving), and actually stop, attempt a foot stretch while guzzling water, then continuing on. Between the next water stop, I pushed through, but had to walk for a few brief moments, until dire mile 21. After the water station at mile 21, I attempted my lame quick-step, but couldn't push past the pain anymore and was forced to walk the majority of the way until mile 25. Unfortunately, that was the straight-away stretch from the mouth of Provo Canyon to Center Street in Provo, a very ugly, sunny, strip of road. Closer to the finish line you could see the crowds and hear people cheering, but it wasn't until, about a quarter mile from the finish, I saw my brother in law Mykle and 1-year old nephew telling me to, "Push through it! Finish strong!" that I miraculously started full-out jogging again until (yes, crying) I crossed the finish line. My tears came equal parts from the physical pain in my feet, and from the ecstatic joy of actually finishing. It was the most incredible, euphoric experience ever to see Michael waiting for me, beaming with pride, and my sister Sarah jumping with excitement!

Getting on the shuttle bus and talking with my neighbors about the race, passing the half-marathon starting point in awe thinking, "OK, now you have to run twice as far as THIS," trying to focus while stretching next to the fire pits, looking up and seeing a crack of dawn on the horizon, feeling the adrenaline when the gun shot off, and seeing the gorgeous scene wake up around me as I cruised through the canyon are just some of the amazing experiences that came from running a marathon. My favorite part was watching so many people around me, and talking with a few of them while we paced each other. From about mile 8 to 12 I ran with a "Marathon Maniac" (a club where you have to run 2 marathons within 2 weeks) from the Bronx who was fun to talk with. We both agreed that "everything in moderation" is another way of making an excuse for giving into bad habits; that you have to live extreme to get extreme results. He was an excellent pacer, and I crossed the half marathon mark at 2:20 almost exactly. I was psyched to finish in less than 5 hours and allowed myself to slow down a little. That was, until I had to walk, so I ended up finishing in 5:27, but like I said, by the end I was just happy to have finished.
 Even though I'm not terribly proud of my time, I am very happy to say that I never once "hit the wall." Hitting the wall is a dreaded moment in running ("bonking" is the equivalent for bikers), when your body runs out of glucose and has to start burning fat directly. I've been told it feels like hell, like you need to just collapse where you are. I carried a baggie full of dates with me the entire run and had a bite every few miles to keep my sugar levels up. The pain that caused me to walk was purely from the pounding on my feet, not from loss of glucose.

I could hardly walk for the next day and half after the race, and joked with Michael at Walmart that I needed to get one of those automatic carts, like when I was drugged up after getting my wisdom teeth removed. I was dousing my feet with essential oils all weekend to ease the pain of the bruises on my feet, and by Monday, I was walking mostly-normal. By Tuesday, I was feeling great and Wednesday, the soreness was hardly noticeable. I am back in action now, hitting the gym mostly with weights, and some high-intensity cardio, but no more 10mile + runs for a while. Half-marathons seem very enticing, so that will probably be my next competitive challenge, but for now I am glad to be able to say...I did it! I ran a marathon!