Can I call myself a runner?

I have always enjoyed running. I love to be able to say ‘I’m a runner’. It has a certain ring to it. That being said, I have never competed in a 3K, 5K or even a fun run. Ever. So I am not sure that qualifies me to be a ‘runner’? Add to that, the fact that I run incomparably slower than my kids, who are 10 and 12.  But I still run. Unfortunately, consistency has never been my strong suit, so I run off and on, but these days it is back ‘on’. So perhaps I am an occasional runner?

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Nervous flyer? Just a tad.

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Sitting for 8 hours in a confined metal tube, at an altitude of 40,000 feet, hurtling through the air at 550/mph, aboard a long haul flight for me equates to agony, anguish and self-inflicted anxiety!

I have been travelling since I was probably a month old. Most of them long haul flights. But for the last several years, the thought of getting on a plane is beyond unnerving.

My mind is in overdrive thinking of all possible scenarios that could go wrong. Internal dialogues leave me exhausted. Manifesting the worst. Statistics don’t mean squat! Safest mode of travel? I don’t know about that.

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You spin me right round!

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Most people either love spinning or absolutely hate it. There is often no in between. I fall in the former category. I love it!

I started taking spinning classes about 4 years ago when a friend, I had recently met, introduced me to them at our local gym. She didn’t show much enthusiasm (almost intentionally) when she told me that she spins 3 days a week and I felt like she down-played the class. Did she not want me to join in with her? Was it her domain? Her only comment was – ‘It’s not for everybody’. That had me intrigued. Surely I could do a 45 minute spinning class. It was just like riding a bike – indoors. She had no idea about my stamina and I often prided myself in my ability to do high-intensity classes. With that thought I stepped into my first spin class.

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Let’s Talk Turkey!

blogheaderIt seems ironic that my second post revolves around food after I wrote at length about my fitness obsession just last week. Oh well! I love the holiday season – the food, shopping, family, friends, the festive atmosphere – and did I already mention the glorious food!!

Thanksgiving dinners in the past have always been with my friend making the showstopper turkey and the rest of us bringing sides. This year things shaped up differently somehow. Apart from the excitement that Gilmore Girls is coming back this weekend (can’t wait for it, but that has to be another post), there was more excitement for Thanksgiving than I had anticipated.

whatsapp_logo1-svgThe WhatsApp Conversation 

My friend Najla graciously offered to host Thanksgiving this year. Yay! She would make the bird and we would all bring sides. I offered to make yams and a green bean casserole. It was my tried and tested recipe – I had nothing to worry about. Somehow during the hundreds of WhatsApp messages exchanged for the Thanksgiving dinner (because what is the purpose of WhatsApp if you don’t have a gazillion messages on a group), it became apparent that we would need two good-sized turkeys. I suggested she do her traditional turkey and make another one with some Pakistani spices. She loved that idea. I told her a friend of mine – Saniya, had done it in the past and it was always a huge success. Fast forward 45 WhatsApp messages later and this is what transpired…..

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The Fitbit Obsession

About a year ago I made the switch from a Nike Fuelband to the much hyped fitness tracker called the Fitbit charge.The Fitbit as you may already know tracks your steps, floors climbed, calories burned and sleep – just to name a few. I made this life altering change when my son decided he needed an upgrade and bought himself a Garmin. Yaay!

My FitBit Charge

My FitBit Charge

Little did I know that this hand-me down Fitbit would transform my life. Not necessarily in a good way – but that is still up for debate. My days quickly moved from peaceful to panic and frenzied when I developed a constant habit to tap my band and check my steps. I’m walking from the car park to the school gate, I bet I can get 300 steps. Or wait, maybe 350 if I pump my arms. I nervously tap my band, and what … I just have a 100!  Mental note to self – park the car even further next time!

The first few days went by and I would eye people who would also be supporting the Fitbit on their wrists. I started seeing them everywhere – coffee shops, super markets, even doctors offices.I instantly wanted to ‘friend’ them and I gave them a smile that would mean we are in some sort of ‘Fitbit cult’. Apparently randomly smiling to strangers isn’t all that its made out to be.

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