Running in Slow Motion

I have started running again. Yes again. Believe me, if I had a fancy phone that would track my runs and publish it on Facebook, you would be getting my progress report complete with miles run, calories burnt, average speed and how far I've travelled around the world with my running; Kavisha has now travelled from Oslo to Timbuktu in 18 days, 23 hours and 57 seconds. That's just an illustration I don't run that fast. And why Timbuktu, for one it has a nice (read funny) ring to its name, don't you think so. I'm sure it's a lovely place and all, but I'm ashamed to admit that in my younger days I thought it was a make belief land. I can't be totally blamed though, if we were annoyed with someone we'd tell them to take a flight (actually a "flying + profanity rhyming with duck") to Timbuktu. "Timbuktu" was the new "Hell"; so can you now see the logic of it being mistaken for a make belief place.

So yes I was running for about four months till it got too cold to run outside; I am a master at making up excuses. At -15 degrees and slippery ice, people are still running outside here, I say their brains need to go under the scanner.
About 5 months ago when I heard the couch groaning and the phrase "I have nothing to wear" was fast becoming a prophecy about to come true, I got desperate. I was not yet ready to give up on my gastronomic indulgences, so when I stumbled on a running plan that promised to get me running for 30 minutes at the end of nine weeks, I thought, this is what I need. There were so many podcasts for this programme, I was getting dizzy with choices. Do I pick Laura with the nice and encouraging voice, or Dmitri who made a certain dictator from the world war 2 look like an angel. Yeah, I picked sweet Laura who understood my pain and urged me to keep going even though my legs were on fire and there were paramedics on standby thinking I was going to have a heart attack.

It was almost the end of summer when I started running; of course we have summers here, for a whole two months! My first run was, obviously, excruciating; I had to run for a whole minute at a stretch, followed by seven more of these minutes with recovery walks in between. And if your behind has been as much on the couch as mine has, that minute can be the worst minute of your life. But sweet Laura egged me on and told me that everything was going to be alright; I had no choice but to believe her.
Did I mention summers here are not always sun and hay, there is rain too, lots of it. And guess what, yes people here run in the rain too. I was inspired, and ran in the rain as well and was soaked right down to the last piece of clothing on my body. But I kept on, along with Laura, feeling exhilarated with the rain in my face and literally every inch of me (err... are the Laura references getting a little too gay, I'll stop)

While I was running outside I was under the illusion that I was running like the wind. And why wouldn't I, my heart was almost beating out of my chest, and my legs were just short of going up in flames (coyote and roadrunner style). But when temperatures started to drop I took to running inside a stadium, which has featured in an Olympics (yes, winter Olympics) and is about less than half a sprint away from my apartment. It was in there that I realised I wasn't actually "running". My "running" was at best "jogging", that too in slow motion. Inside the stadium which has a circular track, there were some people going past me more than three times in one lap. Either they were three spawns of the same mother or it was one person just running "fast". Not to be disheartened I told myself that I was still a newbie runner, with extra baggage, which is a huge slowing down factor.

There will be a time when I will run like the wind; if that's even possible, but isn't it oh so poetic.
So for now, I am going to pretend to be the fastest runner there ever was, for the half an hour I run for, breaking my own small records and probably a little bit of the ground I run on too.

Spring Cleaning

So two days ago I decided to do a little bit of spring cleaning. Well it's not spring yet, it's just that I decided to spring right off the couch, in what seemed like months, and decided to clean. Hey I clean my house, superficially, whatever meets the eye and my damned allergies. You can't lie to your allergies, they know when you haven't got the vacuum cleaner running for a while. Also, the couch doesn't lie, talk about truth fairies. That deep imprint in one of the cushions, what I like to call the warm spot, is going to stay a while; you can say the couch is now probably scarred for life.

I was actually missing a few things, like my old phone; which I am keeping alive (barely) only because it has all my contacts on it; and I haven't managed (that means too lazy) to transfer them to my new phone. Ah my new phone, touch screen and all. If you've been an owner of a touch screen phone for a while now don't feel bad for me, my phone is new (that means better), so let me enjoy the sweet taste of technology.
But my old phone is the damned epitome of 'superhero can't die'. Fallen down the stairs, on the road, flung against the wall, which now has a dent, and in a pot of boiling water (don't try it, that's a sure shot way of killing your phone); also the last bit didn't happen to my phone I just added it for dramatic effect. But you get the picture, the incredible hulk of phones, only blue.

Like I was saying, my incredible hulk phone was missing. If you're thinking, I could've just called it and found out, wrong answer. There was no SIM in it and so untraceable. Among other things I was missing writing instruments too. I don't know if it has happened to you, but no matter how many pens and pencils we bring into the house they always, I mean always go missing. Do the elves now need them for their paperwork? Or is there another fairy for these things, who's just taking them and not leaving us any change.
Also, Kicky has been asking me for a week now, "Mama, where is my lemon? Have you seen my lemon?" Apparently she wanted to cook it for me, in her kitchen, yum. Of course its plastic, I am not eating cooked lemons for dessert.

Now if you have so many things missing and a 3 year old's incessant questions about her lemon, something needs to be done. Best place to look, in and under the couch. I moved the couch first, with my bare hands and feeling a bit like Mr.Incredible, and well what do you know. There was my phone, still charged and working; I mean I could view my contacts and set it up as a timer for when I'm baking, old phone = new kitchen timer. Along with it I found, Kicky's lemon, a little dusty but with one good wipe was good to go into the pot. There was also a very dry ball of blue fondant, which was now definitely past its expiration date and not on my list of missing things. Once the dust bunnies under the couch were exterminated, it was time to look into the couch. It's probably a bit like a prostrate exam, which I have just heard about btw, you strip the couch naked and poke and prod the insides till you find something. And yes, I did find pens, pencils, change (there must be fairy after all), crayons, hair clips (which also always go missing in our house) and dried fruits and nuts (something was having a party in there).

After cleaning and solving the case of the missing things (talk about two birds), it was time to get back on to the couch. The cushions switched places, so I could sit where I always sit, do what I always do and also give the underused cushion a "face lift", now that's ironic.

And Another Resurrection

This blog could start a whole new religion at the rate it keeps being resurrected. Oh, I am allowed to say things like that. I have braved Sunday masses, dissected conspiratorial sermons and endured so called charismatic retreats, the ones where people start talking (read insanely babbling) in spiritual tongues.

So my attempt to start a food blog was not very successful; that means I have been too lazy to write, but I will call it lack of inspiration. I still cook though, I have to, I have a family to feed i.e my husband and toddler. The latter though will hardly touch anything I bake and most Indian food gets a suspicious look and a condescending sniff; sometimes it comes with a "What is that?" asked with a crinkled nose. But meat is devoured devoutly whatever the cuisine.

The last time I was here, I was telling you about my wonderful pregnant adventure. It's been 3 years since I was last pregnant, and no, I don't miss being in that state. In fact, I was supposed to write about the whole baby being born thing and I will. But if you are pregnant or planning to have a baby, I suggest you don't put it on your reading list. I do not fall into the category of women who has forgotten the birthing ordeal or who believes in the divine miracle that is birth. In a way it is a miracle, but far from being divine. If my husband was strong enough to be in the birthing room with a video camera I am sure some of the scenes would be reminiscent of The Exorcist, complete with the spitting and swearing and the rest of the gooey stuff.

And here are some facts for the record, even though my facebook page tells my life story:
1. Kicky is now 3 and going to school - I know she was just a baby when you last saw her.
2. Kicky is Innika, and if I haven't yet told you the story of why we call her that, I'll just post it as an entry on this blog.
3. I am yet to shed the weight I put on during my childbearing months, all 20 kilos of it.
4. We moved, yet again; but countries this time. We have been in Oslo for about a year now and have learnt to enjoy ourselves at -15 degrees.
5. Also 22 degrees is now hot, not warm, hot.
6. I watched 3 Bollywood movies in the cinema in 2012 in Oslo; an all time high over the past 10 years. People change.
7. Ek Tha Tiger was on that list of movies; no, I didn't have a lobotomy.
8. Resurrecting this blog was not a new year's resolution. I don't remember the last time I made a new year's resolution, and I haven't resolved not to make new year's resolutions.

I think that's quite enough facts, any more and I am going to sound like a self indulgent female canine; but isn't that the whole point of blogs. Until next time, ta!