food networkout

My new gym has mini flat screen TVs on most of the cardio equipment. I like to turn on something mildly interesting, like the Documentary Channel, so I can watch it when I run too fast to read the words in my magazine.

I was watching some documentary about young German male ballet dancers in the mountains, when I peeked out from behind my TV into the vast ocean of treadmills and stair machines...

About 70% of the TVs in the room were tuned in to... THE FOOD NETWORK. Sweat trickled down my very furrowed brow. "What the hell?" I may have said. Not just women, not just white people, not just old people. Almost everyone at the gym was watching the Barefoot Contessa season a pork roast.

I am not a TV person, but recently my boyf and I moved in together and now I have...cable! I don't really know what to watch if I turn the television on, so I dabble in the Food Network's programming. I love cooking and I love food and I hate channel surfing. But. At the gym? Huh?

Maybe, maybe, maybe these people are dying to know how to make a meal in 30 minutes with Rachael Ray...?

The next day, it happened again... but worse. Paula Deen was making some kind of southern fried cream-filled chicken pie with gravy butter. This show makes me gag when I'm home laying on the couch, never mind when I'm strapped to an elliptical and feeling each beat of my pumping heart!

WHY? Why do most people at my gym in HOLLYWOOD love to watch The Food Network whilst exercising?
1. The obvious. People are starving themselves to be thin and are employing the oldest anorexic trick: watch food! Watch others eat, watch people cook. But... these people don't SEEM anorexic... yet.
2. The Food Network is boring, and thus meditative.
3. The sound of Rachael Ray's voice makes them angry enough to keep running.
4. They want to look like/look at the glorious Giada De Laurentiis and yeeesss I googled the spelling.
5. They DON'T want to look like/at the Barefoot Contessa. No offense to Dara's mother, who apparently does resemble this tender creature.
6. Mating ritual? Guys want to let the ladies know they are sensitive and appreciate a good meal, and ladies want to broadcast their po-fem domesticity?
7. Food is delicious?

Reason #7 is my personal reason for watching these shows, wherever and whenever... and is actually my motivation for most everything. Yum.

Dusk: The Hut Trip (3)

The light from Josh's headlight was small and far away and up, so far up. The tiny tears in my eyes were immediate.

When that blue bouncing light disappeared beyond the trees and up the path, that was when the blizzard came, suddenly snowing from all sides, and even above the roar I could hear all the ghastly winter beasts approaching, and through the white storm sky I saw the stars blink out one by one-- I tried to scream but I gasped instead and all the freezing snowflakes filled me, my lungs, my mouth, freezing my core and my eyes hard as diamonds looking their last for the blue bouncing light that would never come back--

The blue light did fade, but just fifty more paces, stop, breathe, curse aloud. Despite my dread, the only real result was the pack on my shoulders weighed down even more by the frustration to at least catch up to my group. And thankfully the stars remained firm in their night posts, because when I did stop to regain my breath, I had only to tilt my head and wonder.

The stars were so many and so bright that the sky seemed naked. By climbing to this altitude, the night had peeled away layers of darkness so I could see even further into time. I felt shy before it; it was unabashed.

A faulty snowshoe in the group did allow me to temporarily catch up, but this time I didn't mind falling behind again. There was no choice. If I didn't stop to breathe, I couldn't keep hiking. But before I fell too far behind again, Haley's father Michael skied down to us, as promised.

He had reached the hut earlier, started the snow melting on the stove, and waited for the first group to arrive and take over. He told us the hut was only about 2/3 of a mile away and that it would only be another half hour. I immediately (and correctly) doubted this, as we were moving so slowly, but my attention was devoted to lightening my pack. Michael took my bed roll, a few jars of food, and the inflatable sled. This probably only took off about 7 pounds of weight, but the difference was unbelievable. I thanked him again and again and in my mind I called him every nice name I could create.

I once again caught up with the other three, feeling myself gliding on the snow, compared to my former pace. The whole world seemed lighter! Unfortunately, Haley's snowshoe was worse than ever now and Josh was feeling the very beginnings of altitude sickness, mixed no doubt with exhaustion. Here, the group shifted again: Haley dropped behind with Michael helping her, Dara pulled ahead and did not stop until she reached the hut, and I continued with Josh, sharing a headlight and making very frequent stops. The remainder of the hike was indeed longer than a half hour, but finally I caught the glimmer of the blue diamond on a post. This meant to turn right and the hut would be just yards away! I urged Josh to just make it a little farther, we were almost there.

I reached the post and followed the path to the right, and soon before me was the hut, under a thick shell of snow. There were figures in the windows, swimming in candlelight. I felt like a ghost hiker, dreamily staring at what could have been, if only I hadn't fallen off the trail and broken all the most necessary bones. But the feeling didn't last, I was unclicking my gear and Josh's, flinging open the door with giddy, joyous, triumphant laughter! All the well-worn mountain natives might not have been tested in the way we were that day, but I did not receive one strange look-- the lunacy of accomplishment in nature was known to everyone in the room.

Those who had reached the cabin were warm and settled, and they ushered us into their fold. The large room was a common area with benches and tables, two wood burning stoves, and a wide kitchen. Snow was melting for our hot water, folks were beginning to cook the food we brought, and more hikers arrived and were welcomed.

I stripped my outer layers and sipped hot orange gatorade, the most delicious, comforting, and bizarrely restoring potion I'd ever consumed. Despite the lingering pain, the smile had not left my face. Josh stood outside and freed his dizzy stomach, a gruesome black on the snow blanket. Haley arrived finally, cheerfully trying to ignore her own altitude sickness. Dara set to work preparing food- the prevailing activity in the hut at all times.

I tried to envision this moment ever since I bought my ticket to Vail, and not one of my imaginings came close to this feeling of what I can only call peace. I settled into my exhaustion and exhilaration, introducing myself to a new part of me. I saw my friends, as they did the same, crafting a new extension of themselves that climbed snowy mountains to sleep in huts. "Yes, now we do this," we thought. The mountain made everything else we did after inevitably easier, surmountable-- and us victorious, in our way. We were all there, we had done it. On the first day of the new year, we were finally at the hut and the hike was over.

How can it be over? I feel it now.

Day: The Hut Trip (2)

On the first morning of 2008, we departed on our long-awaited hut trip. My Los Angeles core had counted down to the trip with as much excitement as the end of 2007. It was a hard year for us all.
With oatmeal in our bellies, we packed our food and gear and set out, slightly later than anticipated. We parked the truck at base camp, only to discover we were short one pair of skis. Haley's mother, Jan, and Laura, would have to retrieve the skis and head up after. A second wave of hut-hikers would join us, so our group would be staggered up the mountain anyway.
We LA kids strapped snow shoes to our small human feet and danced into our heavy packs. Later on, my ambitious packing would almost cripple me, but at the time I was more concerned with my frozen toes and fingers than my straining shoulders. Josh gave me his mittens, and so the first mile of the hike, my fingers thawed. After we hit the first blue diamond, when the trail turned up several grades, I was heated enough to remove my hat and mittens! By our first break, I could take off my coat, and that initial numbness would not trouble me for miles.
I got through the first four miles by counting 50 to 60 paces and then stopping for a few breaths. We stopped twice to eat and rest, and during lunch I peed in the snow-- a great relief!
But as night fell, and there was no sign of our leader Michael, Haley's father, I wondered how far we truly were from the hut. Some experts following us passed us, and eventually so did Jan. At that point, my pack was unbearable and my three friends were pulling ahead. In the brief time I was alone, I felt tears freezing on my cheeks and heard phantom rustles in the pines. All I had to do was look above me to the night show and wow myself into utter bliss, despite the pain and cold.
True to his word, Michael doubled back to help us once he reached the hut. He took my sled, sleeping bag, and several bottles of food. Making everything in my world better. I reached my friends in no time, with 2/3 of a mile left (of a 7 mile hike from 6500' to 11300'). I was recharged.
Sadly, the rest of the group had hit a threshold. Haley had a faulty snow shoe and Josh was suffering the beginnings of altitude sickness. I stayed behind with Josh, while Dara, in her incredible tolerance for discomfort, struggled forward.
Finally, we saw the last blue diamond between two posts on the right. I knew the hut was 50 yards ahead so I urged Josh forward-- we were almost there. I trudged forward, my toes frozen through, and sure enough, the snow-covered hut formed in my view. I was laughing, and I kept laughing in pure joy as we opened the door.
I wasn't tired, hungry, sick, or any one sensation. I was weak, but so triumphant that all else faded. I stripped my layers and sat on the long bench where my friends were sipping chicken soup. Jan made me a luxurious hot drink comprised of water and orange gatorade. It might have been the most perfect drink I'd ever tasted.
That night we let the others cook the meal we planned (pesto, veggies, and pasta) and tried to re-fill our tired bodies. The hut was dark and candlelit, our group of adults, twenty-somethings, and one toddler filled the cabin with a happy din. There were 4 others staying there as well, but since I barely knew those in our own group, in my mind we formed one organism: eating, drinking, playing games, coming and going from the out house in the starry mountain night.
It was an early night for all of us, but even earlier for Josh, who fell asleep after throwing up several times.
The following morning I woke up to the smell of pancakes and the indisputable pressure of pee. I couldn't believe I had made it through the whole night without a trip to the out house! I slipped into my coats and boots and hurried to the little stand beside the house. It felt so warm compared to the sub-zero temperature we hiked in the previous night!
After eating an inhuman amount of pancakes, half the group left for a day of skiing. We, of course, stayed behind and filled our day with books, scrabble, hot chocolate, lazy yoga, and good talk. Napping was our sport of choice. I took photos and wrote this story. Others mustered the energy to sled or roll down the mountain.
The ambitious part of the group returned and joined the sledders just as the sun began to fade. The hut was once again full of bodies and gear, and we melted pot after pot of snow for dinner and tea. Jan made her famous bourbon-baked brie, and I decided to fill my stomach with the rich, warm cheese instead of waiting for dinner. We formed a faulty game of gin rummy after the plates cleared, blindly inventing rules and scores. I was dizzy from wine and thin air. I made one last trip to the out house before bed, wondering when I'd ever see the stars so close and bright and perfect.

Dawn: The Hut Trip (1)

The best thing I could think to do in the first hours of 2008 was to hike from 6500' to 11300' on a snow-covered mountain in Colorado. I had never been to Colorado, never hiked with a pack, nor even worn snowshoes. It sounds like a horrible idea on paper.

I vaguely attempted to train for this adventure by hiking some trails in the canyons of Los Angeles and infrequently going to the gym. As a city-dweller who works in an office and spends two hours a day in the car, this attempt was downright sad. Nevertheless I bought my plane tickets with resolute internet clicks and spent most of the holiday season outlining my winter plans to my friends and family with determination and pride. I didn't come home with a new hair style, piercing, or tattoo- just a crazy plan to stomp up a mountain with my friends for the sheer hell of it. So, with the tested and true support of my sisters and parents, I flew to Colorado at the dead end of December 2007, incredibly ready to start a new year.

The entire trip was based on a framework of stories Haley had shared with me of her family's past hut trips. I immediately accepted her invitation to visit her family in Colorado and do one of these trips, which apparently involved storytelling, games, welcome intoxication, and wood-burning stoves. I don't think either of us knew how serious I was about going. This resolution flowed through me, and it spread into my boyfriend Josh and our mutual friend Dara. These three friends- Haley, Dara, and Josh- had most significantly and positively affected my LA existence in the past two years, and our hut trip plans grew as organically as our friendship: it was obvious.

We three found ourselves in Colorado on the morning of the trek, filled with oatmeal, stretching and packing and beseeching nature and our bodies to be kind to us that day.

Please Advise.

1. Arial gives her iPod to have 2 legs.
2. Katie Holmes is saved from eternal damnation by the under-ice god of Scientology.
3. Shadow models having iGasms.
4. A warning depicting my worst and most unfounded fear: iPods explode and maim in work-out/sweat short-circuit malfunctioning disaster catastrophe.. death.
5. Your comment/suggstion below.