True story. But first, an admission: Although I technically live in Manhattan, the apartment is so far away from the thick of it all that the boy calls it a suburb of Manhattan. As a result, I have never in my nearly 4 months of running outside run on city streets. One of the benefits of being in the burbs is having an actual running trail right in front of the apartment. All I have to do is run down a ramp and I am there!
I skipped my planned 5 mile run on Sunday — my last 5 mile run before next Sunday’s 5 mile race — because I got my hair blown out on Saturday (redeeming my free visit from Blow — remember that story? Well let’s just say this visit did not go smoothly either. More on that in an upcoming post). As a result, I did not want to mess up my hair. I chose to forego my training plan run in favor of pretty hair.
I set my alarm to wake up in the icy cold Monday morning for a boring treadmill session, but when I woke up my stomach was not having it. So the run had to wait. Tuesday had a much better forecast, so I decided to get an outside run in Tuesday morning — perfect. On Monday night, my stomach once again rebelled. This time, in the form of a pregnant lady’s belly or perhaps a basketball. I happened to glance down and was shocked to see my stomach in front of my face. It was huge! Massive. I looked pregnant and my maternal instinct told me to lovingly rub this massive bump of a belly. So I did.
My love for my unborn air bubble quickly subsided when I started to freak out. I have seen my tummy in all states of bloat, but this seemed worse than it has ever been. Or, more likely, worse than it has been in a very long time. Not only did I look about 5 or 6 months preggo, but the skin was taut and my stomach felt very strange to the touch.
In my freak out state, I took a photo of the belly, shirt rolled up in pregnant lady fashion. I sent it to Cassie in a state of alarm. I sent it to my brother with the message “GET IN MY BELLY.” I started to get worked up not only because I was in extreme pain and felt so much discomfort, but because I am still a girl and I can’t help but associate big belly with fat. Obviously I did not go from skinny to fat in the course of a few hours. But tell that to the girl with the giant balloon belly. Balloon Belly! That’s what they’ll call me!
I also was alarmed about my health. Why was this happening now? What was going on? The boy, a doctor, performed the doctor tap tap test, and bestowed on me the clinical diagnosis of air. Cassie agreed. The boy was concerned that something else was going on as well, and we discussed which hospital’s emergency room we would grace with our presence should my condition become worse. Luckily for both of us (me because pain sucks and him because he is studying for a big test) no ER visit was necessary. We fell asleep and although I woke up throughout the night nauseous (the boy says the word should be nauseated. why?), I was able to get up at 6 am for my outdoor run.
Because it doesn’t get light until 7 am now, I was not comfortable running on the path by the water in the dark. I opted to run on city streets which I had never done before, being in the burbs and all. I was a little worried about the traffic lights but figured it would be a nice change of pace. And it really was. I loved this run!
I felt great the entire time, comfy in my new Zensah leg compression sleeves and new Zobha workout pants (purchased at an online sale to have another pair of workout pants that can double as work pants, stretching to fit around my tum). There was lots to look at and no route to follow, so I got to explore the city. I ran where I wanted, when I wanted. Sticking of course to major populated streets. Thanks to my Polar RS300X sd, I knew my distance the entire time. I really just went with it on this run. If I wanted to run on a certain street or look for a restaurant I’d been meaning to try, I did. If I wanted to circle around the same block twice, I did. I felt extra camaraderie with the runners I ran into because we were running on the street! Sure, anyone can run on a running path. But here we all were on the street! Instant bondage bonding. Eventually, I headed home to make my 7:00 am curfew, and arrived at the door after 40:35 minutes of running 3.61 miles.
And today I felt so much better about my pregnant bloat that I felt comfortable sending the picture to a bunch of friends. I am so proud of my little bundle of joy air. Okay, proud is not at all correct. Coming to terms with it is more like it. I have not been feeling well at all lately . . . and my days of fitting into my pants have returned. Just in time for pants season. Woo hoo. I will call the surgeon next week to check in.
So, back to the matter at hand — almond cookies. Kinda.
So what happened was Gena posted this Almond Milk recipe and obviously I had to make it, and have to going forward every week of my life. So I made the milk, purchased a nut milk bag, and wound up with lots of almond pulp in addition to my heavenly milk. By the way, never buying Blue Diamond again.
I didn’t want to just toss the almond pulp like I toss my juice pulp every day, and the boy happens to love all treats almond (as do I), so I decided to make some almond cookies! A recipe online here, a recipe online there, I didn’t fully read any but I got the gist of what to mix together to make cookies. The problem? I don’t own all purpose flour. But! My gluten free pancake mix is actually called pancake AND baking mix. And they provide a recipe for muffins right on the bag! I figured, if it can make muffins, it can make cookies! Right?
So I mixed up all my ingredients (including agave! no sugar!) into a yummy batter. Then I greased a baking pan and shaped the dough like cookies on the pan. See photo:
Put in the oven at 350. I don’t actually know what cooking temperature is good for what, but I vaguely recalled reading the number 350 in one of the recipes I fleetingly glanced at.
After a little while, I went in to check on the cookies. They looked big and puffy and in major need of a flipping. I flipped them all over, thinking they looked suspiciously more like pancakes than cookies. They cooked on the other side and when I deemed them finished — can you imagine the delicious almond smells making their way through the apartment? — I removed them from the oven. They were definitely ready. But they definitely were NOT cookies.
The almond cookies I baked turned out to be almond pancakes.
I accidentally made pancakes! I am thinking this flour does NOT work to make cookies.
I have to admit, they taste great. Like, really great. Like, I’m upset I already ate dinner because I would have loved to have an almond pancake dinner. After eating some large crumbs/chunks of pancake, I put the pancakes on a plate and covered it in tinfoil. The boy emerged from his chamber of study and tasted a pancake. He LOVED it. I am so happy because I think he is generally skeptical of agave. But he does love his almond flavored treats, and this certainly qualifies. And now he has breakfast for tomorrow! He even gets to pour maple syrup on it.
So even though I failed miserably at masking cookies, at least I have a recipe to use with my almond pulp until I figure the whole cookie thing out — almond pancakes! Only next time, I think I’ll use my griddle . . .
