A Runner's Holiday Gift Guide {and some yummy give-aways!}

Merry Christmas, all you runners.  And when I say all you runners, of course I mean you. 

Since it's Cyber Week, let's take advantage of some great prices to help you get moving this year. Even if you hate running (gasp!), I have taken it upon myself to inspire you in the coming year, to find your inner runner and be happy like Buddy the Elf, who was always running. And downing maple syrup.

Sometimes "stuff" really does inspire. And when you give it, you're endorsing the wonderful world of LIVING. Here's a quick list of inspiration.

1.  Socks.  The affordable gift. But halt - not just any socks!  Socks that won't slip down. Socks that let you sweat. Socks that won't cause blisters. I love Nike. They have a band around the middle that is super hugging and supportive. But just this morning I ran in a pair of Danskin that I got from Wal-mart and guess what? They were great! The price is nice, too.

2.  Sunglasses. These are just cool.

3.  Garmin Watch.  The price is coming down on these! Still an expensive gift, but just think of the joy on his/her face when this this special watch is unwrapped. Priceless. Even if you went to China, the satellite would pick up and you would know distance, pace, and overall time. I love this watch! They even have pink Garmin watches now. Marathon Glenn is drooling over a very special Garmin watch.

4.  Deep Tissue Massage Roller

For only $14.99, this is a great piece of equipment. Do your knees hurt? Lay down and roll out your hamstrings, IT Band, and butt - I'm willing to bet you have knots that are pulling on your IT band, which pulls on your knee cap. I will come to your house (or make a video?) of exactly how to do this, but the roller does come with a how-to guide. Since I started rolling, my knee pain and knee tendonitis has never come back. Back pain? Neck pain? Butt pain? ROLL. This foam roller is like a massage, but way more cost effective.  

5.  Running Gloves Take your pick, there are so many good ones to choose from.

6.  Running Arm Band for iphone or ipod.

7.  Reflective Running Vest. If anything else, your runner won't be mistaken for a deer or a bear or a moose in the woods.

8.  Runner's Arm Sleeves.  These are fun!

9.  Headlamp.  You know, for those 5 a.m. runs.




10.  Runner's World Gift Certificate This is a great, all-around health read.



11.Protein Powder. Jarrow's is affordable, organic, and comes in french vanilla or unflavored, adapting to any smoothie.

12. Gift Card for Running Shoes. Brooks, Adidas, Nike, Newton Asics: They all provide gift cards! 

13.  Neck Warmer.  Help your lungs this winter. Protect your lips, chin, and cheeks from winter burn. Starting in November, I wear a neck/face warmer everyday until about mid-March. You can buy one for about $10 or cut and sew a piece of fleece together. Works much better than wrapping your face with a scarf.


14.  Itunes gift card for the ipod or make a personalized running CD to upload to the ipod.

15.  Shop the sales racks at Nike outlet right now - all the shorts are marked way down.  Your runner (or you) will be more motivated to go out this spring with a spunky pair of shorts waiting for her/him.

16.  Pedicure.  Your runner needs foot love.

17.  Pay for a race. One Christmas my dad paid for me to run the New Hampshire trail's series - 6 races in 5 months.  It was one of the best presents I ever received.

18.  Stocking Stuffers:  Hair accessories, GU gels, Clif bars, SPF face lotion, SPF chapstick, massage gift card, Maisymak Runner's Granola :)

19. Honeybells. 

One Christmas we received a big box of Honeybell oranges. Oh my deliciousness! Instead of ordering crap, excuse me, give good stuff!

The biggest benefit to any of these gifts?  It shows someone that you take health seriously, that we can do hard things, (which running often is.) When I receive a running gift, it's validating...you believe in me.   

Perhaps, you will need to forward this post to your own Buddy elf, or stuff a few of these items into your own stocking this year (sometimes we have to help ourselves out, right?)

Happy giving!

And now for a little give-away....
First Prize...The Athlete's Palate Cookbook AND Protein-packed Maisymak Granola Snack, made by yours truly.

Second Prize...Protein-packed Maisymak Granola Snack (I made this one too). If you live locally, I'll throw in a dozen Farm-Fresh Eggs (I did not personally lay these, but I know the hens who did. They feel privileged to serve you.)

Leave a Comment by Saturday and Win!

Morning Motivation

Your path is not your destination.

Just because it's stormy now doesn't mean you aren't headed for sunshine. 

December is the best month to start running.

Most people slack off during December. We skip runs, work-outs, and indulge in gluttony. We feel sick, guilty, and have zero motivation to actually move (speaking from experience here).

I'll do it tomorrow. I'll start in January.

I want you to get that great cyber deal (running shoes?), sip the eggnog, sing Christmas carols, and deliver holiday granola, but I also want you to ask yourself some questions.

Smart runners ask themselves, where do I want to be this coming spring?

Start now.

Don't wait.

Baby steps.

Five minutes walking today, ten minutes tomorrow. Twenty minutes by the weekend.

There will be no regret (speaking from more experience).

Don't wait until January to make that New Year's Resolution.

Do what you need instead of what you want - want may have included eating an entire box of Trader Joe's caramels with your husband on the couch in one weekend. Need was kicking my butt out the door this morning. Full of caramel and chocolate. Ugh. totally hypothetical example, of course.

Cold, snowy, cloudy, dark, stormy? I know. But remember, you're headed for sunshine.

Cousins,Turkey and a Little Gobble Wobble

Happy post-Thanksgiving, pre-Holiday madness peace and good cheer, friends!

I hope you had a lovely holiday. Here's a little recap of our Thanksgiving adventure: This year was different for us as we bid adieu to the show donkeys and pet chickens and traveled to Needham Massachusetts, just outside the big city of Boston.

I enjoyed people-watching all the way down; families stuck in traffic on 128, traveling to turkey destinations. The study included many electronics, nice clothing, and anticipation-laden faces...FOOD. GIVE ME STUFFING!

We arrived to squeals of cousins jumping up down - there just isn't a better greeting than than! Then two brothers got down to business. Here, Uncle Brendaen wears his duct tape apron made by Nelson. Nelson received a product-review and will be accepting orders for Christmas.

I've had my eye on the brussel sprout for a few weeks now. I don't recall ever eating one in my life, but as we must all be a little more daring in life, I popped one in my mouth. And then another. And then another. These were so scrumptious! I shall be adding them to my cooking repertoire.

The beautiful root vegetable, as delicious as it looked

Dearest Grandma

Dearest Cheese Spread. And those olives. Oh yummy. This was our big assignment. I think it was doable. Thank you, Market Basket.

Dearest Grandpa

My favorite part of Thanksgiving is the squealing and happiness of cousins. They fling themselves into each others' arms like they've spent a torturous lifetime apart. Wherever they are, wherever they go, there is bound to be uncontained giggling, shrieking, NOISE, happiness, the occasional pout, crying, hugs, and did I mention the volume? Here we have the kid's table. Shockingly, we were even able to light a few candles. It was a full ten minutes before anyone starting burning the rolls and playing with hot wax. On the plus side: No one was sent to their room early.

And then the adults got down to business. Jill and Brendaen put out a tremendous spread of yum! I regret not getting a picture of our beautiful hosts together. 

As much as I enjoy cooking and having a house full of people, I didn't mind driving to a beautiful house, with a small assignment, and sitting down to eat. Quite nice.

The obligatory tryptophan-induced nap 

And Daddy tickle

Next we moved on to the musical performances where each child performed. This year we had piano, singing, the flute, cello, and violin!

And a play that involved four little girls, a horse, a pumpkin, and indian corn. And much laughing.

What an awesome instrument. In my next life, look for me with a cello. I hear God in those strings.

This little spitfire played a little diddy entitled Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, but she made sure we knew it was entitled How Great Thou Art. Loved it.

After the music we ate the PIE, but sorry, there is no picture. We ate it all too quickly.

Cousins in our family cannot get together and not play their favorite card game ever: Pounce! Hours of fun on the floor.

As night fell, the children went right to sleep (hahahaha) and the adults went for a winter walk, stopping at 7-11 for some hot herbal tea, and looking at houses and architecture in the neighborhood. Afterwards we adults ate Thanksgiving leftovers, stayed up way too late (way past my 10 o'clock bedtime!), and discussed Cambodia, refugees, Hmong culture, food, and good books. You know, the usual.

The next day we all took a gobble wobble around the streets of downtown Boston, enjoyed all the shoppers with their black friday shopping bags and old men playing chess outdoors. We ate the best chinatown pork buns, and walked miles, vowing to walk the freedom trail this summer. Yes, life is grand. We then headed home, fat and full.

Thanksgiving was wonderful. Gregor said he was thankful for mobility, the ability to travel to family and be together. Though we didn't get to see everyone this year, the ability to travel rather easily is a great blessing. We'll catch ya'all next time.

And now I must go. The children are pulling out the Christmas decorations - today is tree day!

How was your Thanksgiving? Did you travel or stay put? Did you eat too much, too? However it went down, I hope you felt thankful...

Until next time,

xoxox.

No More Strangers or Foreigners, Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving, Friends!

I love this time of year.

The kitchen is already filling with smells of Daddy cooking delectable eats in anticipation of the big day. It is perhaps our best Thanksgiving tradition: The men cook.

This year I'm dreaming of the heaps of food at the dinner table, but I'm also watching the news, thinking of the refugee. 

We who live in America, amongst such wealth, have much to be thankful for. It is hard to watch the news and see Syrian refugees looking for a place to call home. It is hard to see the faces of the mothers in the Philippines, holding small children, who didn't get evacuated. Typhoon Haiyan survivors hang their laundry to dry in their destroyed villages. 

I thought of the refugee when we made our Thankful Tree this weekend.

Every year our tree is a little different, but I think this one is my favorite. I ran outside in the frigid cold (sadly, the weather has turned. boo) to find the perfect branch. I found one that had snapped off a tree during a storm. It wasn't perfect but suited our family just perfectly.

We cut perfect imperfect leaves and wrote out blessings. We burned our fingers on the glue gun, yelped, laughed, and read our blessings out loud. Some of us felt chipper, others not so much. It is a simple tradition, and one of my favorite parts of the season. We looked back on Thanksgivings past. Some of our family members are not with us on earth any longer; it makes every holiday a little more bittersweet, a little more meaningful.

I wonder who wrote that one? I hope your running is going strong! I'm so thankful to have legs.

Thankful for home.

Duct tape. Truly thankful.

My brother-in-law, Seth, is a Vietnamese refugee. I wrote his story, A Boy of Two Lands

for the November/December issue of LDS Living. Ann got the cover, darn it :) 

When Seth was born, the Vietnam war was raging. I was born in 1975, the year that Saigon fell. The U.S. pulled out of Vietnam, taking thousands of refugees with them. Thousands more tried to flee the country, often throwing themselves and that or their children at the mercy of the South China Sea.

Communists took over the country. Children were indoctrinated and taken as child soldiers. Each of Seth's seven uncles were thrown into concentration camps for a time.

Seth's mother, Tai, was afraid for her only son. She knew the only way for Seth to have a better life was to escape.

It is estimated that 800,000 Vietnamese made it to refugee camps. The world would come to know them as Boat People. Thousands made it to land, but it is estimated that thousands more never made it across. 

Knowing the risks - sharks, cheap canoes not made for oceans, weather, pirates, murder, trauma - Tai put her only child, her precious 8-year-old son on a small canoe in the middle of the night. Seth remembers her last words: “Chung ta se gap lai,” or "We will see each other again."

Seth was born during the lucky year of the pig. He was "the lucky one," so surely he would make it. Seth and his Uncle, Binh, set off into the cold ocean water. Twice, Thai pirates invaded. With knives in their mouths, they stole everything except the engine. But Seth and Binh made it to a refugee camp in Malaysia.

There they waited. Who would take a small refugee boy from Vietnam? "We would go anywhere," Seth said. "To any place taking refugees."

America answered. There was a family living in Boston. My in-laws had two small boys of their own, but felt like they should do something for their brothers in sisters languishing in refugee camps. They were a young couple with hardly any material possessions, but they had food and roof over their heads, and that's what the refugees needed.

Heather, my mother-in-law, said it truly was a world-wide disaster. Fisherman couldn't fish in the South China Sea without bringing up bodies. 

Fate shone on the lucky one. Seth's name "seemed to leap off the page" of the huge bound book of refugees so long it could have been the book of life. This was the boy they were supposed to have.

Heather sent a telegram to Seth and Binh: "Do not worry anymore. Stop. You have a home in the United States. Stop. We are waiting for you. Stop."  She then began to fast and pray.

Seth arrived in Boston, Massachusetts in 1981. One of his new brothers was my husband. The stories they tell of growing up are both gut-splitting hysterical and poignant. My husband can do a Vietnamese accent like no other. 

Many years later, Seth saw his first mother again as she lay dying in a hospital bed in Vietnam. The story is quite remarkable, the details too long to write here...you'll have to read the article :) But I'm really hoping it becomes available on-line soon!

If you walk into many a nail salon, the employees will likely be Vietnamese. I have asked some of these women about their experiences. As they wash, buff, and paint my toenails, they tell me sparse details. Many include small canoes on cold ocean water.

And so, on this Thanksgiving, I have been thinking of the refugees. 

On Saturday I heard a man speak about hospitality. And suddenly I remembered how easy it is to help a human being: Give someone a place at your table. 

Hospitality and Hospital have the same Latin root: "Healing."

How easy it is to never get face to face with our brothers and sisters. In the computer age, we can work from home, sit behind computers, hit buttons to open the garage door - we have to go out of our way to interact with people! 

We may not be able to travel the world or lead a relief effort. We may not even be able to serve in a soup kitchen. But we can be hospitable. We can offer a piece of bread, a table, a chair. We can offer a place at our table.

We often hold back from inviting others because we think we are "lacking."

Is our house too small? To the lonely it's a palace.

Is our house too messy? To the displaced it's called home.

Is the meal too simple? To those who eat alone, it's filet mignon.

To break bread with someone is so simple. Yet it can be a holy experience.

In Luke, Jesus appeared to two disciples walking down the road to Emmaus. Their eyes did not recognize Jesus for a long time. It wasn't until they broke bread together that they recognized him. We will all have our walks to Emmaus. Listen. Pay attention to someone who needs you. We never know who we'll be hosting for dinner. 

Many Thanksgivings have been in our home. It is an awesome experience. When families gather, the feeling of love is so strong. So is the chaos. And it's beautiful. Strangers become friends. Family becomes closer. We have different personalities, different skin colors, eye shapes, mothers, and fathers. We come from different lands, different walks of life, religions, and experiences.

But no matter who it is, when we sit down across the table from one another, when we break bread, we become a family. "Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigner, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God;" -Ephesians 2:19

And to me, that is the beauty of a meal. That is the great beauty of the Thanksgiving. 

Happy Thanksgiving, dear friends. May you have a blessed day!

Family Love and No Shave November

Brynne told me this morning that she wishes she was an only child.

"Because then we could go on trips together all alone and you would only pay attention to me."

I told her how much she would miss her siblings. But as she shrugged and skipped downstairs I felt a little sad. This spunky, resilient little girl needs some one on one time where I sit down and look into her eyes and she doesn't get interrupted by any other child so help me! 

The opportunity came when Nelson called from school needing his play script. I saw it as fate. I lovingly brought it in (and announced to his English class, who loves you like I do? He blushed as his classmates waved, "Coach does!" I'm so embarrassing). His forgetfulness was the perfect opportunity to steal Brynne for lunch. We went to the local Pizza Chef for a half hour lunch and she felt mighty special. 

Are you a middle child? I hope my girl feels special even though she's not the only boy, the oldest child, or the baby.

I have been reminded.

This scene sends me into a tizzy. To me, it is the antithesis of family love. I try to be reasonable. But I am decidedly. Not.

Other news fronts: No-shave November is a way to show love. This is what the American Cancer Society website says:

No-Shave November is a unique way to raise cancer awareness.  What better way to grow awareness than with some hair?  Show your support and give back.

So the man shows some love! It begins as a little scruff

that begins to grow into a furry beast.

The goal of No-Shave November is to grow awareness by embracing our hair, which many cancer patients lose, and letting it grow wild and free.  Donate the money you usually spend on shaving and grooming for a month to educate about cancer prevention, save lives, and aid those fighting the battle.

And then one day it turned into a mohawk. That's the "wild and free" part. He left his mohawk in all night. The kids began to hop up and down. Who is this mohawk man in the house? Is that our father?

Mohawk man turned into Don Juan. 

Participate by growing a beard, cultivating a mustache, letting those legs get mangly, and skipping that waxing appointment.

This website cracks me up. I think he's going to skip that waxing appointment but those legs sure are mangly. Like, all the time. Maybe I should try it. Sexy.

Cope is most definitely not feeling the love. She has to go to school with her dad. They share the same campus. And while she appreciates many of his antics, her response to Don Juan was, "No. You are not going to school like that. No. That's not okay."

Which just makes us laugh.

"Seriously, Dad. You can't do that. No."

The more emphatic she became, the more we laughed. It's really not funny. Poor girl.

I have to admit, I've always loved this particular part of my husband's personality. The man comes across as so serious and professorial and then every once in awhile...Did he just do that???

Oh yes he did.

This morning he really did go to work as Don Juan. "Don't you have some...important meetings or something?" I asked. "Probably," he said. Whatevs.

It's hard to even remember that clean-shaven man oh so twenty days ago...

His eldest daughter was so mad at him that she wouldn't even look at him. And then somehow it was my fault. I am wondering how their time together on campus is going? 

I'm laughing again just thinking about it.

Meanwhile, to feel greater family love we have started our Secret Santas a little early. Nelson says this is definitely not okay and when I played Christmas music on Saturday he gave a great protest and said this was not allowed until December 10th!

Just this morning I read three great posts on love...Lindsey...and C.Jane...

Lindsey quoted Ann Voscamp and her blog post, "The Real Truth About Boring Men - and the Women Who Live With Them: Redefining Boring." I love it. It's definitely worth reading.

Even though I obviously don't have me no boring man! I've got the Don Juan.

Voscamp writes, 
"Let everyone do their talking about 50 shades of grey, but don’t let anyone talk you out of it: committment is pretty much black and white. Because the truth is, real love will always make you suffer. Simply commit: Who am I willing to suffer for?" 

The real romantics are the boring ones — they let another heart bore a hole deep into theirs.

Yes, family love can sometimes be boring and mundane. Our Love Story has involved wet beds, puke in cars, lice, and annoyed teenagers. I so hope it doesn't involve Depends. But you never know, do you?

And shhh, don't tell him, but I secretly love those unpredictable, spicy Don Juan moments. Because every once in awhile, it's good to try not to be so boring. Make the girl laugh, let her heart race a little (as long as you're scrubbing the toilet.) And she's yours forever.