A Wake-Up Call

Mood: Apprehensive
Song: N/A
Units of Caffeine: 0

I have always felt that living in Texas has made me pretty soft in many ways. I'm not saying that I was the most physically active person when I was living in the northeast, but I think there were certain elements of my everyday lifestyle that kept me relatively healthy. In high school, for instance, I would walk to and from school every day. Since the school was on the top of the hill and the round-trip walk was nearly four miles, it is easy to see how I lost a lot of weight between my freshman and senior years.

Living in north Texas is really different. For many reasons. But a lot of the differences really don't help with keeping in shape and staying healthy. First of all, as you know, I am a grad student - I know, I know; this doesn't have anything to do with Texas, but I'm already predisposed to some pretty crappy eating habits. I eat on the fly a lot, and have been known to grab whatever I can for lunch at the student union between classes. The student union at my university also doesn't really promote healthy eating habits. You can grab a burger, a slice of pizza, some nachos, fries, etc., but the only really healthy thing available is their salad bar - and even that is shot to shit if you want any salad dressing because they don't provide any low-fat or low-cal dressings. I suffered through this same crap throughout my undergraduate years as well, so I can't blame Texas for that. However, anyone who has ever eaten in Texas know that the portions are as big as the state and OMG, do Texans love fried food! It was in Texas where I was introduced to the chicken fried steak. Just like grits, it seems that every southerner has their own way of making this thing, and anything other than their way is the wrong way of preparing it. But, basically it’s a piece of cube steak which has been dipped in a mixture of buttermilk, eggs and flour, then pan-fried in bacon fat. Has your heart stopped yet? Well, if not then the country gravy, smothering the fried steak will. This is usually served with some platter-size biscuits and green beans. Oh, and don't let the green beans fool you. They are also prepared with bits of bacon and bacon fat. Since moving to Texas, I have had my share of chicken fried steak because... well... it's good. But after thinking of what it is that I'm actually consuming.... feel slightly nauseous. The Texas State Fair is also further proof of how much Texans dig fried food. I mean, there are obviously the standards such as french fries, homemade potato chips, and corn dogs, but then there are fried Twinkies, fried Oreos and fried Snickers bars too. I think the motto of the Texas State Fair should be: "Fry it and serve it with gravy!"

Exercise is also a challenge in Texas. Since most of the area of north Texas is flat, there's not much of a challenge to walking, running or biking, nor are there many trails. But even if there were numerous trails with dips, curves and valleys, no one actually wants to do anything outside for ten months out of the year anyway because it's so frigging hot. When it's 115 degrees outside, the last thing you want to do is go out and find other ways to make you sweat!

So, why then, do you ask, am I writing so much about Texas when I am currently enjoying myself in Washington? Yesterday I was reminded of how out of shape I am when K and I decided to "do" Mt. Rainier. I'm still getting used to the geography around here, and it's all just a touch deceiving. I can see Mt. Rainier from my hotel room, in all of its beautiful glory: It's big. It's magnificent. Although it's daunting as all hell, it's just begging to be climbed! So, imagine my surprise when it takes two hours to drive there. Then K and I drive into Mt. Rainier National Park with a couple of friends and drive for another forty minutes or so. We get to the visitor's center and pick a trail to hike. We pick out one that's actually pretty small: only four miles or so. Of course, the map shows the distance, but doesn't quite show the gradient. The trail we chose goes up a few thousand feet. About halfway up to the highest point, (a quarter of the way around the trail loop), K and I were dying. My legs felt like Jell-O. And let me tell you, coming down wasn't any easier! I felt like such a freaking loser. I guess what made me feel worse was seeing all these old ladies passing me on the trail. WTF!? Am I that out of shape!?

I made a vow to myself that, when I move here, I am going to tackle the mountain. Oh, sure, I may not be the type to go the summit or anything like that. But sometime within my lifetime, I want to make it to Camp Muir.