Tragic Sandwich

Tag: walking

  • It’s a Zoo!

    Baguette is probably not looking at elephants.

    My dad and stepmom were in town this past weekend, and while Mr. Sandwich did his 20-mile run (someone’s training for the L.A. Marathon next month), the four of us went to the Los Angeles Zoo.

    Baguette wasn’t particularly interested in the animals, but she did enjoy spinning and walking in circles. She enjoyed me doing that, too.

    She was less interested in riding in the stroller we rented, although it was handy for pushing around the diaper bag, which still weighs a ton for reasons I can’t quite identify. And while she did walk, for an awful lot of the time, she wanted me to carry her.

    Which really pointed out to me that I don’t particularly care for the L.A. Zoo. There is a lot of walking involved in a visit, and when you’re carrying a toddler, it’s a long way between animals.

    A long way.

    This is why I still haven’t joined a gym.

  • Well, That Was Exhausting

    Yesterday afternoon, J and I drove down to Redondo Beach. The day before a race, we like to do a practice swim and practice bike ride, to get more familiar with the course. I suppose we could do a practice run, too, but that way lies madness.

    So we got to the beach and I decided very quickly that if the surf didn’t go down by morning, I was going to skip the race. It wasn’t stormy, but the water was pretty choppy. I really didn’t think I could cover 1/2 mile under those conditions.

    And I was probably right. The water was much calmer this morning–the waves were breaking fairly close to the beach, with rolling surges beyond that. It turned out, though that the rolling surges were much more rolling than I thought. In spite of the short distances, this was the toughest of the triathlons I’ve done, and that’s all due to the swim. The ocean was cold, murky, and dynamic (and it tasted bad–I don’t know what’s in the water in Redondo Beach, but it can’t be good).

    When I finally emerged from the water, it was with the slowest time I’ve gotten (30 minutes in the water, and my official time will be longer than that)–and a charley horse. My calf muscle loosened up over the bike portion, but then I developed a stitch in my side. Everything evened out a bit during the run (which I walked all of, except for the finish chute), but on the whole I’m amazed that the right half of me was able to finish the race.

    Of course it helped that I had a lot of support. My dad and stepmom and J’s parents came out in the wee hours of the morning to cheer us on, and after he finished his race, J walked the run with me. Interestingly, the run may have been my favorite portion. The company, of course, was excellent, but the course was fun too. It wound through the Redondo Beach pier and by the neighboring lagoon, which has been turned into a saltwater pool with slides.

    After the race, we all adjourned to the Redondo Beach Cafe for brunch. The service was really slow, but everyone seemed happy with their various entrees. I was quite happy with the Kitchen Sink Omelet, which had cheese, avocado, ham, and onions; other dishes at our table included French toast, multigrain pancakes, a tuna melt, a chicken-salad croissant sandwich, and a French dip. The whole wheat orange pancakes and the crepes sounded good, but what I wanted most of all was protein.

    In the end, I finished dead last with a time of 1:52:35–but I finished.

    Not bad for someone who, after waking up this morning, was so tired that she couldn’t focus her eyes.

  • More Disappointing Than Tragic

    What does a girl have to do to get a meatball sub in this town?

    Yesterday J set out for adventures with friends, and these adventures included using the car, which meant that after my friend picked me up for coffee, I was on foot for most of the day.

    For the portion of the day that included laundry, this was no big deal. However, when J called to say that he and his friends would be eating copious quantities of BBQ at the Bear Pit (previously discussed here), I realized that I would need my own hearty late lunch/early dinner.

    One of our favorite local haunts is The Coop, a tiny hole-in-the-wall pizza place with no seating, cash-only sales, and amazing New York style pizza (New Yorkers, don’t start with me. It may not be exactly what you’re used to, due to the water–see, I know–but it’s good). Since J doesn’t like vegetables on his pizza, and I can’t eat oregano, we usually get a large pepperoni and Canadian bacon. That provides plenty of meat and avoids the sausage.

    The Coop also makes excellent meatball subs. Their posted Saturday hours are 11-9, so I figured I’d call and place the order, then walk over and pick it up. But no one answered. That suggested that they might be closed, particularly given the holiday weekend. Just in case, though, I walked over and discovered that they were, indeed, closed. On the way back I stopped at the sandwich shop on the corner of Palms and Motor. I can’t remember it’s name, it’s changed ownership at least once since we moved here, it’s nothing special. And, as it turns out, they do not have meatball subs. I toyed momentarily with the idea of a Philly cheese steak sandwich, but then realized that I had no confidence in their ability to make one–and that it would not meet my needs. A cheese steak sandwich, no matter how good, is not a meatball sub.

    From there, I headed over to Kristina’s Italian Kitchen, on Overland. Now, according to the Citysearch-provided menu, they do have a meatball parm sandwich. But their in-house menu showed no sandwiches at all (thanks a lot, Kristina’s!)

    In the end, I came home and reheated the leftover portion of a chicken quesadilla from Baja Fresh.

    Distance walked: 1.4 miles

    Meatball subs eaten: 0

  • Now That’s More Like It

    Yesterday I went for a walk of 1.45 miles, and today we went swimming at Park Pool–I managed 500 meters, which is much more typical for me. Now I need to string more than 100 meters together at a time.

    On the downside, I wonder if I might have a stress fracture. Probably not. Right?