The trouble with sprouts

Monday, August 19, 2013

New sneakers, soft shorts, and a gravel track did not make for a good jogging experience yesterday, even though the mosquitoes (and their tendency for West Nile) did not swarm over me seeking blood.

I wobbled like a winding down top, with two of four quads in my left leg totally useless.

This doesn’t mean I’m going to give up.

Despite nearly two years on an indoor bike, the jogging left some muscles aching – always a good sign in my book, suggesting this was an area of neglect that other kinds of exercise – even my weekend yoga – cannot reach.

Done on a mild day, the jog took me along the gravel paths of the Secaucus park where the remains of the cedar forest litter the water. Tide was particularly low and so these were much more exposed than on other days when I simply walked around the park.

Lately, there have been jerks from the upscale condos near by riding the paths on bicycles. Apparently, the city did away with the restriction because the warning signs banning them were gone – perhaps stolen. But today, I only had to dodge one jerk, and fortunately, I wobbled the right away to let him pass.

Some other idiot in a while shirt – and in the company of a young man and woman – took a long pee into the water. I guess he figured the plants needed a little ammonia to help them grow.

In the past, when getting back to jogging, I had to stop and start, and so it was true yesterday, where I ran, then walked, then ran again, until I figured I should not run much farther and risk this morning’s aches and pains (which were surprisingly few since I have exercised regularly over the last two years and did my regiment of yoga before taking the jog). The only thing missing from the early days was the mid-jog reward of coffee, and, of course, the river. These ponds even with rising and lowering tides, just does have the same feel as running along a living (or perhaps in the case of the Passaic dying) river, and dodging jerks on bicycles isn’t nearly as challenging as jumping out the way of oncoming traffic. And who in their right minds will put a Dunkin Donuts along these paths, just so I can get my brew.

At home, switching futons from couch to bed proved nearly as exhausting as the jog, especially later when I tried to get comfortable for sleep and found an unfamiliar landscape between me, firmer than the terra firma I was used to sleeping on. Moving futons is also a challenge because they are heavy and tend to go where they want and not where you direct them.

None the less, the shift was successful, and I did not throw out my back.

The supper salad, however, had its issues.

Never trust sprouts from a supermarket. Iceberg lettuce may be boring, but it survives longer than other varieties, and a salad can be made more interesting by adding spinach leaves to the mix. In my case, it was a combination of black oils, spinach, diced onions, quartered egg-shaped tomatoes (don’t know what they’re called), quartered cucumber, iceberg lettuce and – unfortunately sprouts (which I didn’t notice were soggy until after we dished out some into two bowls to have with our baked chicken breast). Fortunately, removing the spouts proved less hazardous than jumping out of the way of arrogant men on bicycles or texting idiots in cars. And with a little olive oil and apple cider vinegar, supper was saved.