spinning.

I went through a phase a few months ago in which I decided that 6 a.m. workouts were the new black. Temporary insanity? Maybe, but I had an excess of energy that can usually be attributed to, like, 7 consecutive shots of espresso.

It wasn’t long before I grew to resent the promise of vom when I ran before breakfast. As an alternative, I once went to a 6:30 a.m. spinning class. Ever since I flew off my Huffy at the age of 10, causing a gravel indentation in my forehead curiously resembling a snake bite, I just haven’t been THAT into the bike. Slim pickins before dawn, though, so I went.

spinners

Let’s start with my teacher, mmkay? He was a spastic character whose favorite motivational technique was to whisper, “touch it up!” into the microphone. Touch WHAT up? The room was so dark that I’m pretty sure I groped my neighbor while trying to adjust my seat. Maybe that’s what he meant? It did feel clubby with all that house music. For some reason, he slipped in at the end of class that he was looking to become a more involved father to his two sons, which really threw me.

Given all that, the most bizarre thing to me was the fact that the class was PACKED to capacity. I thought it would be just me and a couple of golden girls who were that committed to a.m. fitness, but people of all ages show up in droves. Since I added weekends to my repertoire, I realized tons of people go then, also.

For instance, this Sunday, I couldn’t get a treadmill for the LIFE of me. I want to start a campaign to make exercising less sexy. Maybe I’ll open up a Krispy Kreme franchise next door? Too obvious? I really need to “touch it up.”

green goddess.

I used to be so anti-egg yolk. If a yolk came up to me at a party, I’d sooner pretend to have a concussion that rendered me incapable of placing its identity rather than force pleasantries. I’d make a beeline for the closest safe haven (i.e. buttermilk pancakes drowning in Type 2 Diabetes-invoking syrup? So be it), and pretend to have been craving its company all morning. THAT’S how opposed I was.

About a year ago, though, I realized I need sauce in my life like a conjoined twin needs her..twin? I can’t survive without them, and there’s a good chance the honey mustard industry could not have prospered if it weren’t for my undying affection through the whole of the 1990s. And, what is egg yolk (excluding when it’s hard boiled) if not a delicious sauce? So, yolk and I had one of those slow motion running movie embraces, and we’ve been good ever since.

Having said that, I enjoy an egg white omelette at times. This Sunday, I decided to do just that, chopping up zucchini, avocado and spinach for my fillings. It was a sort of green goddess-type situation. How apropos I only used two whites in a medium-sized pan, so the omelette itself was a leeeettle on the thin side. It happens. On the side, I had some grits that I made on the stove top, to which I added a jalapeno pepper and Camembert cheese in the last two min of cooking. The result? A green goddess and her spicy counterpart. Yum.

egg white omelette with zucchini, avocado and spinach alongside jalapeno cheese grits

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