Don't panic, it's organic!

This week's adventure was to the Santa Cruz Farmer's Market downtown. I should start by saying that, overall, I was not impressed with the selection. We were on the hunt for fresh veggies and also some local cheese and honey. You see, I read this post on Lauren Conrad's blog (I love love her) about how to combat allergies naturally. We are not huge fans of pumping our bodies with meds, which is a new thing I've developed from working in the Natural Products industry. It's made me uncomfortably hippy-esque in the last two years. Any how, I was interested in the idea of eating local honey for allergy relief. The idea being that local bees pollenate local flowers and by ingesting this stuff, you develop an immunity to the same pollens that are causing your allergies. Makes sense to me, and I like that.

So, we set off to the farmer's market in search of local honey. I'm also keen on cheese, hence the hunt for cheese. And, well, Jeff and I eat a lot of vegetables and we live on the Central Coast, which means, luckily, our local farmers have some of the best produce available.

There were relatively few highlights of the farmer's market. It was pretty small, and you really had to look closely for what I'd consider "good produce". But, almost all of what's available is grown somewhat sustainably, locally, and organically. Jeff and I aren't, in any way, dedicated to eating organic food. However, we are interested in buying goods, produce or otherwise, that are both sustainably and locally made. This often leads to organic foods, so we roll with it.

We took a couple of laps before purchasing anything, to get the lay of the land. I like to know what my options are before committing, and Jeff agrees (engineer brain) that it makes logical sense.

My favorite stop was to chat with Alan Wilson of Alan and Ann Wilson Farm in Panoche, CA. Anyone who knows anything about me know that's chatty, old, adorable men are the people I could spend my whole day talking to, and this guy was also a farmer! It was like striking gold. We chatted with him for a bit, and tasted his Wildflower Honey and ended up purchasing. I was really impressed by how affordable it was. Buying honey in the grocery store (the kind that comes in the little bear) is about $4 for 12 oz. We paid $5 for 12 oz. of delicious, fresh, awesome honey. I couldn't be happier with the purchase. I couldn't find a website for them, or I would provide a link. I think they are old school, which I also love.

Next up, we chatted with the lovely lady from Garden Variety Cheese, which is a local farmstead near Watsonville (cheeses). We sampled several of their varieties and fell in love with (possibly) the best cheese I've ever had in America—a raw goat and cow mix named Trillium.

Welcome, Trillium, to my collection of cheese addictions. I'm already excited to eat a few slices as an afternoon snack today. It's safe to say that we will be back to the Garden Variety Cheese table again soon.

Flanking the cheese table were two set-ups that caught our eyes too. One, Fogline Farm, is a local farm that had some scrumptious looking bacon! Just so happens, we needed some bacon for this kale salad that Stacy makes and I've become addicted to. Jeff has a real affinity for protein, he's a real meat connoisseur if you will. He's very interested in grass-fed this or that, so we took a liking to these folks. Jeff's also quite interested in whole milk; we tested some raw whole milk at the stand next door and walked away with some tasty purchases.

The milk is in a glass bottle, which we paid a deposit for, and I can now see us going back weekly to get a refill. Stay tuned about that.

We poked around all of the produce stands, selecting a thing or two from the goods ones. I was quite impressed when I laid it all out at home:

The haul:

• 4 gigantic artichokes ($8.50)
• 1 enormous leek ($1)
• 1 lb of fresh brussels sprouts, not all pictured ($4)
• 3 bunches of kale ($4.50)
• 2 heads of red & green leaf lettuce, 1 each ($2.75)
• 2 huge pumelos  ($2) 

If you haven't had a pumelo, I would recommend it highly. I was only introduced yesterday. It looks like a really large yellow grapefruit and the inside fruit is juicy, sweet, and pink. You cut it up like you could orange slices and eat it. I can't wait to have it as a snack!

Total produce damage: $22.75

All in all, I think we got great produce for comparable or better prices than in the regular old store, and definitely better than a Whole Foods Market. 

Though we had to really look for the "good stuff" and there wasn't quite the selection that I'd been dreaming of, we will definitely be back to the Santa Cruz Farmers Market!

Wednesday success. Hump daaaaay.

Of course, we can try to be grown ups, live a healthy lifestyle, cook delicious real food,  and chances are we will still end up at El Palomar happy hour after our trip to the Farmers Market for a pitcher of margaritas and burritos. Hey, no matter what we learn about nutrition, we are still us. And we couldn't be happier about that. 

Cheers!

Starting the year with a bit of magic.

I should start by saying that this post took me 2 months to get together. I'm not a reliable blogger, but I am trying to get better. Ok? Ok. That's settled.

I have always been an athlete. However, there have always been rules. I don't do soccer; in fact, I don't "do" any "feet sports". I also typically only excel at sports where there is a ball involved. I love basketball, volleyball, softball, football, and I can even enjoy a round of golf. Though, it's irritating that you don't get to hit anyone. I'm rambling. I didn't start this post to discuss sports. I started this post to talk about a journey. You see, on January 19th, 2014, I did something I never thought I would do—I ran a half marathon, and it was amazing. So much so, that I'm ready to register for the same race next year.

It was a different type of race though- it was a race at Disneyland. It was also a race with my very best friend (Stacy), and there is more on that later. First, we should talk about how this all began.

The year Jeff turned 29 (2012), he decided he wanted to do a Tough Mudder. Now.  For those of you that don't know, a TM is 12 miles of grueling terrain and 25 obstacles (Tough Mudder). So, not only are you running a long ways, you are beating yourself up with military obstacles all along the way. The beauty of that though, is that it really breaks up the running. There isn't more than a few miles to be run at a time. We did ours at Northstar in Tahoe. It was a wonderful experience. Many folks may also say that it's a little insane to do what we did. I can safely say that up to that point, it was the most physically (and possibly mentally) demanding this I'd ever done. It was also one of the most rewarding. Jeff recorded the whole thing.. you can see that embarrassment in this 7:35 video. If you watch though, you must watch until the end. It's my favorite part.

Fast forward a few months, in early 2013, we registered for the same Tough Mudder in Tahoe in July. Apparently the insanity was enough fun the first go round that we wanted to try it again. I also signed up to run my first real 10k in Santa Cruz. I wanted to see what this race-running was all about. While I never thought running would be an interest of mine, I did like the physical and mental challenge it proposed. As I've grown older, it's harder to find physical ways to challenge myself. Recreational adult sports leagues always seem to morph into weeknight beer leagues. Now, I'm not complaining about that, but it hardly lends itself to staying active. My beer-drinking skills don't need any additional practice. That's what Saturday afternoons are for...and the occasional (ok, semi-frequent) Sunday Funday.

So, with that, I ran 6.2 miles along West Cliff Drive in Santa Cruz in April of 2013. I'm not going to lie, it sucked. But, I did run the whole thing—which is something I wasn't sure I could do. There were no obstacles, just running. I did have some incredible support in that endeavor though. My mama was out there on race day walking with a co-worker, and it's hard not to pick up the pace when you see your Mom around the next bend watching you huff and puff your way towards her. Jeff also played an instrumental role in race day for me. You see, I was a real jackass. I wanted to do this "myself" and actually told Jeff "no" when he asked if I wanted him to run this race with me. Of course, as Jeff often is, he was nothing by supportive. He's also, in matters of my stubborn nature, much wiser than me. He didn't make other plans for that day. Wise guy. When race week came, and I was starting to get cold feet and nervous, I chickened out of wanting to run alone. I think he was banking on that. I asked him to run with me, and he agreed. Jeff does Cross Fit, but he's not interested in being a runner. He is interested in hour-long workouts several times a week, however, and his body is accustomed to working hard for 60 minutes at a time. This serves him quite well when I want him to up and run for about an hour with me. Long story short, that race when really well. I enjoyed myself, and I ran. Those are two things I never would have imagined in the same sentence.

I started to register for more 10k races. Jeff and I both did. We somewhat agreed that no matter what our other health & fitness goals are, we both alway aspire to be "in shape" enough to run a 10k whenever we please. Our pals, and coincidentally one of our favorite couples, Josh and Michelle, are also into running 10k's. So, over the course of time, I know I can always count on them to be interested in registering for these races and also getting ice cold beers afterwards.

At this point in my story, I am a person who enjoys running 6 miles. I don't run that regularly, and I don't put on 6 miles at a time any time during the work week. I occasionally run, and if I know I am scheduled for a 10k in the near future, I put on some extra miles in the weeks leading up to it.

I have a policy in my life. A few, as a matter of fact. And the next part of this conversation includes two of these policies. 1) If your best friend calls you and invites you to do something with her, it's in your best interest to say "yes". This could mean that she lost a dare and now needs to streak through the quad and up into the gymnasium. You may initially regret saying "yes", but at the end of the day, you wouldn't want your best friend to struggle through that alone, and you'll be happy to have helped her out later. 2) Always say yes to a road trip—even if it's only to down to the bay bridge in the wee hours of the night. Chances are, it's a beautiful view. With these two things in mind, when Stacy called with a crazy idea in June 2013, I was all ears. One Monday, it was a particularly Monday-ey Monday at that, she called and said, "Heyyyyy, buddy" (like she sometimes does). She asked if I wanted to run a half marathon at Disneyland. My first question was "when?", and then I said "it doesn't matter, yes!"—and it was decided. We would run a half marathon together before Stacy got married in 2014.

A $175 entry fee later and props to Stacy's fiancé (that's you, Nick) for registering me the minute the site opened, we were registered to run in January of 2014 at Disneyland. With that, I decided that I probably needed to get serious about this running thing. While I can huff my way through 6.2 miles, 13.1 is an entirely different beast. It's more than twice the beast, as a matter of fact. Naturally, we consulted the experts and downloaded the prescribed Run Disney plan for the Tinkerbell Half Marathon. Seeing as my favorite all-time Disney movie is Peter Pan, it was practically destiny for me to run this race.

According to the training plan,  I needed to start in September. I was following the "finish in an upright position" running program. That's a real thing; you can find it here.  Hiccup #1—I was leaving the country for a month in September. I didn't have any disillusions that I would be training while in Peru. Well, you know, except for that 26 mile hike over some mountains on a 4-day trek, but that's not running.

So, I decided I would need to start training in August and just get the first month out of the way. After looking at this running program, and setting some goals, it didn't seem so bad. The people at Disney are so wise (spoiler alert: this isn't the only time I will think this over the next few months). They hired some super snazzy runner to create a manageable, realistic running plan that actually seemed like something I could stick with. Now, knowing that I needed to be running at least 3 times a week in August, I took the whole month of July off—I'm talking beers for breakfast on the weekends. It was amazing. I mean, I still do that, but it gives you an idea of my summer before training. The plan was this: on Tuesday and Thursdays, run 30 minutes as a maintenance run. On the weekend, you run a longer run. These runs would alternate—every other weekend would be 4 miles. On the other weekends, you would gradually increase distance. It would look like this: 4 miles, 6 miles, 4 miles, 7 miles, 4 miles, 8 miles... you get the idea. I did my due diligence and investigated another training program to compare. Well, that's not entirely true. I called my friend Cambria (who just ran her first marathon in 2013, go girl!) and asked her how to prepare. She sent me a training program that was similar, but also required 4 days of running per week. And, frankly, I knew myself well enough to know that I didn't have enough drive to run that often. After doing that homework, I embarked on my Disney training program. Stacy and I decided to use the same training program—the idea being that it would make it easier to run together eventually. We live 2 hours apart, so running together all the time wasn't feasible. I'm not going to lie, getting into the habit was hard. And in the first few weeks, for sure, I wouldn't have made the long runs without Jeff. Once I really established an interest in the runs, it wasn't as much of a chore and I could be trusted to go alone. The Disney program also recommended a strategy that I thought was totally bogus at first. It recommended that I run in increments of 5 minutes. I would run 4 minutes, for example, and then walk 1 minute. You can break it down however you want, but that's what I chose to start with. The thinking is that if you give yourself a minute to recuperate, you will ultimately run faster overall by giving yourself mini-breaks. I gave it a try, and I tested it. I ran 3 miles with the 4:1 split and 3 miles straight, and I was flummoxed when the results showed that the 4:1 split made for a quicker time. It was settled: that's how I would run. I got Stacy on board.

Cambria also mentioned to me that her Garmin running watch had really changed the way she trained. It's a GPS watch that tracks all kinds of things: pace, distance, time, elevation gain, weather, route, etc. It also happens to come in PINK! So, I got one—because who doesn't love a shiny new toy as motivation? I also hit up the Nordstrom Rack and equipped myself with some Nike Run pants (3 pairs) and some dri-fit running tops. Something that they don't tell you when you start running, if you have any boobs at all, they are going to hurt. I also started wearing two sports bras when I run, and that really works like duct tape. It's great. Before I started running regularly, I thought people that bought specific clothes for running were silly. I thought it was a conspiracy. I ran in basketball shorts and a tee shirt up and down the court my whole life, I could wear the same thing running. Wrong. So wrong. If there is anything I have learned about becoming a runner it's that being comfy is absolutely pivotal to training success. The day I made the switch, it was like my eyes opened.

I still remember distinctly the day the biggest phenomenon happened. Jeff and I were running from our house, passed his dad's house and down to the Santa Cruz Yacht Harbor. Part of the running program mandated that if you couldn't carry on a conversation while running, then you were running too fast and you needed to slow down. That took a lot of getting used to. I'm not good at that, even now. I am usually trying to get it over faster and re-training my brain to understand that faster wasn't better took some time. Anyhow, it was  Saturday morning and we were out jogging. It was no more than 8am and the rest of the world was still a bit sleepy on a weekend morning. I realized while waiting at a red light, that I was truly enjoying myself. It was a big "a-ha" moment for me, and a turning point. I liked running. It started to get easier.

In November, Stacy and I had our first really extreme run. We needed to go 9 miles. We decided it would be better to go together, so I drove to Vacaville and we ran. I can safely say that we will never again choose a long country road for an up-and-back run. It was miserable— a straight line where the horizon never seems to get any closer. But, we did it, and we did it together. Lesson learned. This was also the first time we would run together on a really long run. Thank goodness for the 4:1 ratio training program. We ran together beautifully, at the same pace, and it went really well (except for the mind-messing road we were on). We decided to that we would make it a point to run the really long runs together.

Stacy came over the day we needed to run 13 miles, and to be honest, we were both dreading it. I took us to Nisene Marks, a State Park that I became familiar with on Thanksgiving when I ran a 10K there in the "Run for Pie". We ran with Josh and Michelle. Josh and I showed up in the same shirt.

#twinning

Nisene Marks is beautiful, with a partially-paved fire road under the redwoods. I hate baking in the sun while running, so the canopy provides lovely shade. It took Stacy and me two full lengths up and back to reach 13 miles that December day, but I've never felt so accomplished. I couldn't honestly believe that we did it.

Having a training partner made all the difference. A few weeks later, we set off on our Disney weekend journey. The plan was this: Stacy and I would drive down on Friday night, after the bulk of the traffic, and stay in Studio City with her eldest sister Melissa (Missi). On Saturday, we would meander to Anaheim and stay with my Grandpa. On Sunday, we would run our race and then pick eft & Nick up at the Orange County Airport and the four of us would spend all day Monday at Disneyland and drive home late Monday night. So, we did. We waved goodbye to Jeff and Nala at 7:30pm on Friday, January 17th, and drove into the night.

Around 12am on Saturday, we arrived at Missi's. I didn't stop to think of it before, but Missi's house was the perfect place to stop. I'll tell you why.

When we arrived, Missi let us in the side door, in a true sisterly fashion. She had to get up at 6am for work the next morning, so we only said a quick hello. Melissa is a runner. She is also, not so arguably, one of the most inspirationally uplifting people you will ever meet. I know, with full certainty, that I could call Missi in the dead of night, upset over anything, big or small, and she would talk me into feeling better. She has one of those personalities where there is no rain—no bad days—all sunshine. She took a journey to running her first marathon over the course of a few years, and served as an inspiration in this endeavor. In fact, when she first found out we were registered, she was the first person to reach out to me with words of encouragement. I've always been lucky enough to view Missi as an older sister, and I feel even more so after this adventure. You can see her races, rambles, and strolls here! She told us how proud she was of us, and that was the first time it occurred to me that this was a big deal!

We woke up on Saturday, and after a brief, but dramatic instance of being locked in Missi's house, set off for Anaheim. We needed to get to the race convention and pick up our bibs.

At the Disneyland Hotel picking up our packets—too excited to take a clear picture

The Expo was intimidating

Lucky for me, my Grandpa's house is literally across the street from Disneyland, so I was able to sneak in a slumber party at his bachelor pad (as he likes to call it). He lives in this amazing community of new condos, and if they were accepting applicants under 62, I'm certain I'd be there newest tenant. We were able to spend the afternoon and evening with my Pop-pop. My Auntie Mary also came over, and so did my cousin Danny and it was lovely to get to see them both. My aunt is an influence on the side of "rowdy", and when paired with my grandpa's wild nature, well, let's just say Stacy and I intended on having one glass of wine with the cheese and crackers and ended up half-buzzed in the wine aisle at Raley's at 3pm on a "wine run" before Happy Hour. 

Spending a full 12 hours with my 90-year old Grandpa was about the only way I could want to spend a Saturday night in Anaheim. If any of you ever wondered where I get my quick-wit and inappropriate humor from, this guy is it. And for those of you that don't know, Adam and my Grandpa are identical twins, I'm sure of it. They have the same smirk and all. 

Stacy and I set up the air mattress in the living room, and went downstairs to the community bar with Pop. In the evenings, after 4:30pm, you can bring your own wine down to the bar and enjoy your wine with other community members. Sometimes, there is live entertainment, like a piano player. If you know Stacy and I at all though, a room fully of chatty seniors is just our kinda place. We mingled, we wined, and then we dined.

Happy Hour—Grandpa spent 30 minutes discussing how the other folks were so old, and that he was finally glad to have some people there his own age to talk to (Stacy & me)

How can you not be charmed by that smile? And yes, he's a badass. 

That's a pink shirt, and it's one of his favorites

Fun fact: there is some weird hand placement going on here. Pop spilled some wine on his shirt, and he would only be in a picture if Stacy covered it with her hand...so I was trying to even it out. Also, for any of my family members reading this, yes, Megan and Eric, that's your Grandma Kennedy in the background. I always love seeing them!

Well, after we made a sufficient mess of the dinner table, we proceeded to hit the hay. It was 7pm and still light out. It was amazing.

Our alarms went off at 3:30am on Sunday so we could get up, get ready, and walk over to the race by the 5am start. 

Stacy had some really rad shirts made for this adventure. This is hers:

Mine said "Eat my Pixie Dust". Stacy is spectacular.

As we were walking over to the race, me begrudgingly (as you can imagine me before 5am), I was taking the 2 block walk as an opportunity to properly bitch about how stupid running was and how I was never running a half marathon again. I lose my patience and interest at about 7 miles. Fast forward about 15 minutes, to the sound of the first fireworks. That's right, fireworks...at 4:45am on a Sunday. Fireworks and Disney princess music. By the time we got to the starting line, we had already picked out our outfits for next year. Add some sparkles and a girl's whole attitude will change. 

Now, I'm not going to lie, it was really hard. Short of the Tough Mudder and hiking the Inca Trail in Peru, running this half marathon was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. I can safely say that I would have been way less interested if there weren't Disney characters involved. 

We didn't cross the starting line until 5:40am, there were that many people there. That many sparkly-festooned running whacks. It was awesome. There was such a sense of spirit. Not to mention, the loads of boyfriends, husbands, dads, and kids holding up inspirational signs all along the way. It was really something. We were finally off to a start as it was starting to get light out. It took about 2 miles before we were in the park, but then we were IN THE PARK. We had agreed the night before that we'd done all the training, and that we knew we could run the miles, but that we wanted to make sure to take in the whole experience. We stopped for all the best photo opportunities.

Pure magic

PETER & WENDY! I was pretty much in heaven.

As evidenced by the photos, we were taking our sweet time inside the park. We had just wound around the Matterhorn and got into a 50 person line to take pictures with Cindy (Stacy's fave princess), when the bike riding pacer came by waving her timing flag and letingt us know that they would be making a cut-off soon. WHATTT??? I didn't even know that this was something that actually happened! Then, we realized that we were on pace for a 16:00 mile, which is about 4:30 minutes longer than our training pace. We freaked. We had spent way too much time photo-taking. So, we did the logically thing—bailed on the princess and started a dead sprint, through a crowd, for about a mile. We ran until we were sure we were safe from cut-off and then we slowed down to a more human pace.

Still scary. 

We spent until mile 5 winding through the park. After that, we were on the streets of Anaheim. Without the distraction of Disneyland, I don't think I would have made it, and I don't know that I will ever do another non-Disney half marathon. But, as I've learned, I'll never say never. Miles 7-10 were truly brutal. There is nothing to see on the streets of downtown Anaheim. Let me tell you, Disneyland is the only thing Anaheim has to offer. 

After mile 10, I started to feel good again. The idea of finishing was in grasp. And, the last few miles all blend together. There was a lot of "woo-ing" and pep talks.

But, I will tell you, I've never felt a feeling like crossing the finish line. Stacy and I gave a good ol' "best friend high five" and it was over. 

We got our medals—which are rad—and walked back to Grandpa's house for breakfast.

13.1 Finishers! Best friends.

So, with that under our belts, we picked the boys up at the airport (Jeff & Nick) and checked in to our hotel. We went for a swim, took a nap, ordered pizza, drank beer, and rested up for the next day at Disneyland with our Princes. 

They are getting married... it's going to be a wild ride

They can be Buzz Lightyear

We are definitely Woody. And we are Astro Blasters

We are not good at the princess pose

but getting them to pose like this was a crowning achievement. 

Look how little Peter Pan looks. Ok, it wasn't that hard to convince them to pose silly..

But that's part of the reason we love them...

Boys Land. I mean, Cars Land.

Beauty & the Beast

Outside of the ride of our lives: Indiana Jones

We made some wishes in this well

And we got photo-bombed by the ride operator on the Matterhorn. Only at Disneyland

Stacy didn't want to go on Storybook Canal Boats. 

She will no longer admit it because it was so awesome

After a long day of magic, we drove back to NorCal. We went to work the next day, and resumed our lives as usual. But, we are not the same. Now, we are runners. 

Key takeaways:

1. Running is way better when you have a teammate
2. If you are actually going to run, invest in the right clothes
3. Running more than 7 miles is only enjoyable when there are fireworks and glitter
4. My Garmin watch changed my life
5. I am registering for the 2015 Tink Half. I've got my mom training too, and she is considering running it. This activity is contagious. We will work on better costumes for next time.

Stay tuned. There's bound to be more on this new part of my life.

xo,

Kate

Welcome home, little girl

We arrived back in the States on Thursday, October 3rd. I can hardly believe it's already been a month. With our feet planted firmly on the ground once again, we are finally gettings our heads above water both at work and at home... just in time for the whirlwind of the Holiday Season.

To those of you who were waiting with bated breath for me to post about the final day of our Machu Picchu trek, I really apologize. We didn't fall off the mountain, and we both came back in one piece. One day soon, we will get around to writing the post about that Lost City and the conclusion of our trip. Spoiler alert: We had the best time doing almost nothing during the final four days in Peru. It's quite true that travelling is no vacation. It's a lot of work; rewarding, glorious, fulfilling work, but it's not relaxing. We spent the last week of our trip relaxing. More on that later.

On Saturday, October 5th, we decided to have a casual 30th birthday celebration for the big guy (Jeff) which entailed several of our closest pals meeting us as our house for bagels and beers and spending the rest of the day on a bike ride bar crawl. What's this you ask? It's exactly what you might think. We rode bikes from bar to bar all day, with a few additional stops, including the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk to ride the Giant Dipper and the Log Ride and to take some of the most epic amusement park ride photos you've ever seen. These are now proudly on display as magnets on our fridge.

However, none of this is whay I originally started this post. On October 16th, we adopted the most amazing little gray kitten you have ever seen. She was 10 weeks old at the time, and 2.5lbs. Supposedly, she was the runt of her litter, but there is no way to confirm that. We rescued her through the ARFP (Animal Friends Rescue Project) and she, and a few others kittens from her litter) were found stray when they were only 4 weeks old. After she was spayed, vaccinated, and microchipped, we met her and fell in love. Introducing Nala Bordeaux Lentz-Halper:

The first time we put her on the bed. Sweet little thing is just learning how to jump up and down on here own now. She was much too small at first, and had stitches from her spaying

 Night one, she slept here between our pillows and has now claimed that spot as her own each night

This toy was a recommendation by my dad. I wasn't super sold on having this in the middle of my living room, but it's become her favorite thing to play with, and keeps her off the real furniture. An added bonus is that it folds up and can be stored anywhere (like the sun visors for a car). Dads are so smart. 

In case you are wondering how the name was chosen,  I will tell you. Nala is the name of the girl character in the Disney movie, The Lion King. Our little lion was born on 8/10/13 (a Leo, just like her Uncle Adam) and needed such a fitting name. Bordeaux, while a somewhat unconventional middle name, happens to be my favorite type of wine. I love wine almost as much as I love this kitty. It's a wonder I didn't name her after a cheese.... 

She was litter box-trained from the minute we brought her home and so far she is very well-behaved. On our first Vet check-up, the doctor said she seems perfectly healthy, and may always be "petite". I'll tell you, she has an appetite that won't quit and she is gaining weight just like she's supposed to. 

She has a lot of energy (like kittens do) and has several toys and scratching posts to keep her busy when we are at work. 

I was able to find a litter box that isn't atrocious; it looks like a wicker basket and has a lid and door so that everything is well-contained. Given my somewhat OCD tendencies, I'm a warden about sweeping each morning and putting everything back where it goes so there is nothing for her to hurt or that can hurt her. While, it's taking a bit to get used to, it's fantastic that my house is always perfectly picked up! So much less hassle.

I'm loving having her around; such a cuddly addition to our little household.

That's all for now. 

And on the third day...

After a grueling Day 2, we were all ready for the easy part. Just kidding. What easy part? Unbeknownst to the whole group, the third day possessed an Incan staircase known fondly amongst the locals as "the Gringo Killer". We had 1000M (about 3000 ft in altitude) of steep, straight decent. My basketball-beaten ankles and knees were in for a real treat. 

 

However, that gem of an experience would have to wait until after lunch. The total hike today was the longest leg of the trip, 15K (or about 10 miles).

The morning started with a straight incline. Unlike the previous day, today would be filled with "Inka flat" trail, which mostly means up and then down and then up and then down. We've come to know that there is no such this as "flat" when a Peruvian person describes a trail and the best you can hope for with "flat" is limited stairs.

We would climb to summits two and three today, but thanks to the aforementioned Gringo killer, we had a net downhill for the day.

The previous night and this morning may honestly be the coldest I've ever spent outdoors. We were warned to wear two pairs of socks, even inside our zero degree bags, and suit up in our warmest hats and gloves. This was not overkill. When Marco, our assistant guide, arrived at 5:30am with steaming hot coffee at our tent, it was almost too much to reach my hands out and mutter a "Gracias". Bless Marco and that wake up tent service. If only I could be stirred each morning with a hot cup of joe in real life....

Anyhow, once we'd eaten breakfast, we were off. The first hill wasn't as daunting as it had looked. When my toes reached the first step into the sunlight, I could almost feel them again. We wound our way up yet another set of granite stairs and into a set of ruins that served as a break during our climb.

 

Juan explained that all around us, there were Incan trails that we could not see. The last Inka (Manco) fled from the Spaniards into the mountains in this area and both created many decoy trails and also destroyed almost all paths that could lead the invaders to his people. The real paths were yet to be fully discovered. Many paths led to nowhere and had this been overgrown again. Therefore, we couldn't see these trail, but trusted our guide that they were there.

After this break, we resumed our climb to the second summit. While seemingly brutal, it was nothing compared to the day before, and we'd been informed that this was the last great climb of our journey. That made it all theory bearable. Reaching the top of summit two was incredible. One way, we could peer across at the 14,000 monster we'd scaled yesterday, and the other way was sweeping jungle valley. It was breath taking.

 

We began our descent into the "cloud forest" or high jungle of Peru. It was beautiful and very different than the Amazon basin we visited earlier in our travels. The air was still crisp and fresh, not humid and heavy. We wandered downward in search of our lunch camp, stopping at another beautiful set of ruins along the way.

 

Lunch was, you guessed it, filling and fabulous. After lunch, we would wind out way through a path of slight inclines and declines to reach the third summit of the trip. I think this was everyone's favorite part of the trek . We were hiking on some mostly flat trail high in the Andean peaks. The views were humbling, awe-inspiring, and sometimes downright terrifying along the way. The path could be narrow at times, slick from the most, and passed through more than one tunnel/cave rock formation that was pitch dark to walk through. It was rad.

 

When we reached a spot just before the last little climb to the third summit, we paused to really admire the view. We could see in the distance, Aguas Calientes, the town at Machu Picchu. It was a point that we could grasp in time and place. We were making so much progress.

 

We reached summit three and paused for a bit because we all knew what lie ahead- the Gringo killer. It would take two hours to get down from there to a fork in the road. If we reached this fork before 5pm, we were instructed to go left. If we were slow, we were supposed to go right and head straight to camp. The path left led to another set of ruins. Allegedly, this was our guides favorite thing to see along the trail and encouraged us to giddy-up. It was 3:10. Off we went.

 

I cannot begin to recreate the strong string of colorful expletives I developed for the Incan people this afternoon. The most family-friendly started with "those Incan assholes...". The spiral downward was the most brutal for me. Jeff didn't seem to have too much trouble, but after a while, every step was painful. My feet and calves were attempting to make up for my tired ankles and knees, which resulted in a hot, hard-headed mess. I, of course, both refused to slow down or to take breaks. You see, while I was cursing the entire culture, I knew Jeff would like to see the other recommended ruins. I was confident in that moment that I never wanted to see another Inka creation ever again, but I sure as shit didn't want to be the reason that Jeff didn't see it.

 

It was quite interesting to learn on this journey that while Jeff excels at the downhill, I do not. While most would agree that down is far better than climbing up, going up is way more my thing. We were opposites, go figure! However, the views were breath-taking and I was determined.

Once we reached the bottom of the spiral staircase the Incan people so considerately dropped in the MIDDLE OF THE JUNGLE, we reached flatter ground and finally reached the fork in the road. It was only 4:48.

 

 

We opted for the route left. Here, I really picked up speed. After a few minutes, I realized Jeff wasn't even in sight behind me. I was glowingly increasingly uncomfortable with the level of darkness that was falling. Jeff and I fell back into our rhythm and made it to the ruins in 15 minutes. I have never been more mistaken about the need to visit this detour from the trail. This was the most humungous set of heaping terraces there ever was. It was incredible to see.

 

 

Far below we could make out the camps and even farther in the distance, the river that winds to Machu Picchu. We stopped for a few minutes to take it all in, but not for too long. We had to make it to camp before dark, and dusk falls early in these parts.

As we started to curl down the path to the bottom of these terraces, I emerged from a wooded area slightly ahead of Jeff. I was greeted by a black Alpaca, grazing away about 20 feet ahead. He looked up as I barreled out of the trees. He was looking right at me! I turned back the single track trail to whisper at Jeff for the camera. I stopped. Jeff reached me and also saw the alpaca, who had taken a few steps our way, still staring right at us. He continued towards us. All at once, I start to envision us being attacked by a wild alpaca. Do they even have real teeth? They eat plants! He kept coming, and we managed to snap this photo:

 

He shimmied right passed us, as we both pressed ourselves to the mountainside of the narrow trail, and kept on lumbering up the trail. Good luck to the next hikers he meets.

 

We continued downward and about 30 minutes later, we reached our final campsite. Taking off my boots had never felt so good.

On a side note, I love my Merrell hiking boots. The trip to Peru was their maiden voyage, and I suffered not a single blister or irritation. #winning.

We ate an early dinner and crawled into our tents as quickly as possible. The wake up call for Saturday was 3:30am. We needed to hike the last 5k (3 miles) to Machu Picchu before sunrise.

Someone saw a snake in camp, and that was enough for me to ask Jeff to check our tent three more times before I locked myself inside until morning. It was a blissful slumber, for the next 6.5 hours.