Gourmet Memoirs

I used to jog 3 miles a day, 6 days a week. It was my time of the early morning to be with only my thoughts and the road that lay ahead. I would listen to the birds, marvel at the trees, and let my mind wander. I developed a multitude of short story ideas and one epic novel broken into segments for a series on those morning runs, and occasionally envisioned images to paint on canvas. My time to be creative, tucking away my written and painted creations into my mind to be explored later with pen and paintbrush.

I was in grad school, where I lived off of 3 – 4 hour naps spaced throughout any time allowed during any given day. I was going to school full time, working as a teacher’s assistant, working retail, and fulfilling my required internship. It was all a balancing act. I didn’t go to grad school for my major topic of study. It wasn’t my passion; I hadn’t yet figured out what my passion was. I went because I was already accepted into the program years before and I needed to refresh my writing skills – and get out of retail. It was the perfect program for all of that, though I still need to practice more to improve my writing skills (and dare I say, read more?).

Back then, those 5:00 a.m. jogs saved my sanity.

In early to mid August of 2006, I stepped into a room with three professors for my comprehensive exam. Twenty minutes after completing the exam (successfully), I stepped out of the building I’d spent the grueling previous year and a half, and walked up the hill to a bigger building on campus where an interview awaited me. And by the end of that day, I had both graduated with my master’s degree in public history and been hired at the place that would become my home for the next nearly five years. And just a few short weeks after that, I met the man who would become my husband. The man who lived 60 miles north of where I worked. The man who came with a crazy chocolate lab, two needy cats, two sweet, adorable little girls, a house, and a very large family of brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews.

The morning runs stopped. I no longer had any time left to let my feet roam or my mind wander to create stories or paintings. My canvases, paints, and even my easel are long gone. My time was replaced trying desperately to catch up on sleep after working and taking care of a suddenly-created family. My body changed – I wasn’t as fit anymore. My stress level increased – I was always busy. My personal happiness was missing – though I was happy with my family. I wasn’t happy with myself. My creative side was missing. I wasn’t running.

There’ve been spurts of running here and there. Nothing consistent.

With my life suddenly now not as hectic, I’ve started running again. Three days last week. Three days this week. My mind isn’t wandering or creating yet. It’s still crammed full of to-do lists. But today, I saw a brief glimpse of that inner peace running used to bring me.

I’ve been running to get back into shape. Instead, I should be running to find peace and quiet; running to find my most cherished part of myself again. That part that loves to paint even if I’m terrible at it. That part that has a new story idea or sudden paragraph in my head triggered by the most random of moments.

Until that part is fully back, I’ll keep running. And eating breakfast.

A recent favorite: a corn tortilla crisped in a skillet, topped with two thin slices of roasted turkey crisped in a skillet, then an egg over easy and a sprinkle of ground black pepper and fresh goat cheese.

~Ingredients to nourish the body put together in ways to nourish the soul to share with family and friends to nourish the heart~

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