The Dark Side to Aging Gracefully (Part II)

Last fall, I was in Charlotte visiting my long-time friend Cam. During the course of the visit, we laughed and joked about the various effects of aging we were sadly enduring. We both agreed that laughter is the best way to cope with these rather disparaging changes.

Cam’s funniest comment, however, was an afterthought amidst a deluge of self-deprecation. “Oh yeah, I forgot to bring up my lovely teeth and how brown they’re getting.” And I responded, “Oh yes, how could we have forgotten that one?” Then she continued, “I got some of those Crest whitening strips last year but haven’t used them because I can’t see the damn package without my reading glasses that I can never find because I can’t remember anything.”

I laughed hysterically. So far, farsightedness hasn’t plagued me, but I know it’s only a matter of time. And though we can buy (and use!) whitening strips and reading glasses (too bad we can’t fix that memory problem), these life changes aren’t ones we can reverse. Unlike body parts that flatten out over the years.

So that reminds me where I left off in my last blog post:

#1 Our muscles grow more short and tight. I won’t re-hash what I discussed last time. It’s just a friendly reminder before moving to point #2.

#2 Balance decreases with age. This is very bad news for someone like me, who wasn’t exactly born with a lot of balance in the first place. After I literally ran into some bleachers on a casual jog one day in graduate school, which necessitated a number of stitches, my peers never ceased to ridicule my klutziness. These days, I hunt down barbed wire fences up to fall beneath, so so I can spend more time and money in the doctor’s office. When I take yoga and Pilates classes, I am downright embarrassed by the balance poses I fail to hold no matter how hard I try (I am teetering and falling while everyone else stands there looking so elegant and proud). Aside from looking silly in exercise classes, those scars all over my legs are a reminder that a lack of balance can result in unforeseen accidents.

Improving the range of motion of your joints through muscle stretching and strengthening (see below) can improve the situation. So can continued discipline at those balance exercises in various, assorted classes. My instructors tell me that muscles have memory, and if you keep working on those poses where you stand on one foot (and the ones where you stand on a foam roller that I despise), over time your balance starts to improve.

#3 (And if that isn’t enough) we lose muscle mass, too. Even as early as age 30, muscles start to decrease in size and shape. It’s not our eyes (which are going bad) imagining things, there’s actually a scientific reason we’re getting more flabby each day. It’s sad, but true. If we don’t build back the muscle mass we’re losing, it will turn to fat.

Falling flat at aging gracefully

In college, my nickname was PB (aka “perfect boobs”). When you take a C cup in high school and add the Freshman 25, you get a D cup. And without the years of gravity to take its toll, you get PB. Given my proficiency in Math, I would describe it as follows:

C + 25 = D or (possibly PB if under the age of 22)

We didn’t realize how good we had it in high school. This photo, taken in 1980, is a perfect example.

Though I do notice the smooth skin I wish I still had (and my big hair, which I am glad I don’t), mostly, I look at my chest and think to myself, “Where the heck did it go?” My friends who knew me then and see me now always asked if I have had surgery. To this, I say, “Are you kidding? Why would I deliberately get rid of my PBs?” A problem in losing the 25 is losing the D cup, too.

In addition to the side affects of weight loss, my nature-giving breast reduction is but a cruel gesture age has played upon me. In fact, as the years creep by, I seem to continue my journey to flatness. For men, there are obvious age indicators – such as hair loss. For women – it seems like there’s a never-ending list. There’s cellulite (which I seem to accumulate no matter how much I run or leg weights I lift), wrinkles, laugh lines, sagging skin (my personal favorite), gray hair (thank goodness for hair color) and many others.

And as if these delightful changes weren’t enough, there are some less obvious transformations occurring as we approach and embrace our forties.

#1 Our muscles grow more short and tight. “So what does that mean?” you might ask. You move more slowly, stand up less straight, have a harder time keeping your shoulders pulled back, and get stiff more easily. At the wise, young age of 46, I get tight from sitting down on the floor or even in a chair for a while (and remember when we could actually sit on our legs without intense pain after 1 minute?). I’d like to blame it on the marathons I’ve run, but running isn’t the only culprit. There’s a reason elderly persons are often hunched over when walking.

Another downside? With tight muscles, we are more prone to muscle, joint and tendon injuries. For example, if your muscles are as stiff as a rock and you go out and ski bumps without a warm-up, you are much more likely to hurt your back or knee than if you start with some groomers. Likewise, Rob has not yet figured out that starting out a run in his usual sprint (without stretches, of course) is not exactly the doctor’s order for healing his chronic calf injury.

What helps? Stretch! Not only does stretching increase your flexibility, but it improves circulation, relieves stress, improves the range of motion in your joints and helps alleviate lower back pain. I go into more detail in Finding Life’s Secret Sauce, but that incentive should get you started.

If you’re bad at making yourself stretch, then take a yoga or stretch class and have someone guide you through the movements. There’s a good chance the movements will be safer with assistance. I do a lot of stretching at night after dinner if I’m watching TV or even reading a book or newspaper. Luke (and often the dogs, too, as an added challenge) usually joins me in the ritual. His favorite pose is the downward dog, where he conveniently fits underneath me somehow (this isn’t likely to work if he grows much taller). It’s actually quite humorous to watch, though passersby might wonder if we’ve gone nuts.

The list doesn’t end there, I’m sad to say. Stay tuned for more.

I think I can…I think I can….

I mentioned in my last company newsletter that I wasn’t a big fan of new year’s resolutions. Though I could certainly stand to cut back on sweets and drink fewer glasses of wine, I don’t really need to lose weight (thankfully!), dramatically alter my eating habits or exercise more (in fact, my spouse would prefer I exercise less). Who wants to give up happy hour and desserts anyway?

I am, however, open to new horizons, new challenges and new opportunities. I am also now embracing a tradition I heard about on the Today show this morning – Good Riddance Day. Literally, throngs of New Yorkers write down the thing(s) they are happy to get rid of as the current calendar is tossed aside. Given some of the unusual challenges of 2009, I actually wrote down four this afternoon and plan to shred them tomorrow, much like those citizens of the Big Apple.

I will also say I was inspired by a conversation I had on Christmas Eve, at a party to which our family was graciously invited. I was speaking with my running partner’s sister-in-law, Brenda. A few months ago, I attempted to do a track/speed workout with her (and my running partner), “managed” by her husband. He was a great coach, even if he did fail to motivate me beyond 3 800s  that day (today I completed 5, on a track half covered with ice, at the same or faster pace as last time, without breaking my neck and while giving high fives to Luke and Marlee at each turn of the track, so at least I am making progress).

Brenda was telling me about a 10 mile tempo run she recently completed at a 7:00 pace. For those of you don’t run, that’s FAST. All I could think was, “Heck, I couldn’t even run one mile at that pace, much less 10.” She’s GOOD! I asked her how she did it, since her husband wasn’t able to clock her as effectively on city trails as at the high school track.

She said he road his bike alongside and instinctively knew just how hard to push her. Her rationale: “I’ve never done this before so I really don’t know what I can’t do.”

This comment really struck me.

While I am so busy placing limitations on my own running capabilities, she knows no bounds. Her husband knows just how hard to push her because he doesn’t see her limitations either. Instead, he sees the potential I’m sure she actually has.

Often in personal and professional endeavors, we (myself included!) are quick to pose limits on ourselves. We don’t think we can do something, so we stop before we even try. Without past experiences to affect our beliefs and inhibit our potential, just imagine how high we might fly or fast we might run.

So for 2010 (after my ’09 riddances are good and gone), I’m going to try to withhold judgment on myself. Attempt to let go of the boundaries I have created in my own mind. And maybe even push myself farther (and higher) than I think I am capable.

After all, if the Little Engine could, maybe I can, too.

I’ll bet you can, too.

Meditation, dogs and distractions

I would not call myself a meditation expert. To the contrary, I would actually refer to myself as a meditation disaster. So I guess if I were to advocate meditation as a daily practice, you might refute my claim based solely on my admission that I can’t do it very well myself.

I actually did write about the benefits of medication in Finding Life’s Secret Sauce, such as relaxation, rejuvenation and if done properly, probably some enlightenment, too.

Just recently, I admitted to a friend that my goal was to meditate 10 minutes/day. Immediately upon my admission, he looked at me and laughed. Now I realize, by the standards of many others more relaxed and contemplative than I, this goal is not exactly heroic. But why make a goal if it’s not realistic and attainable? Right now, this is the best I can hope to do. That ten minutes/day (if I actually do it at all) helps me relax and slow down.

Here’s a perfect example of how my meditation typically proceeds.

Yesterday afternoon, I took 10 minutes (or at least tried to do so) to sit down in front of the fireplace and close my eyes.

As soon as I sat down (and began to calm my mind, if that’s something I might actually be able to do), Walden pounced on me.

Then he stumbled over to the kitchen, whereby he started to move his dog bowl across the floor, making a rather annoying fingernails-across-the-chalkboard like sound. Then he moved Boedi’s bowl, making an even louder screech. Then back to his. This continued about 6-8 times.

While Walden was frantically moving bowls, Boedi was jumping in my lap and licking my face. Every time I tried to place her back on the floor, she’d jump back up and do the same thing.

Then after Walden stopped moving bowls, he ran back into the living room and nearly knocked me over from my sitting position. He pushed Boedi ever so politely out of the way then plopped himself onto my lap.

Boedi didn’t give up. She tried to nudge her way into my lap for a few rubs, too. It was a little disconcerting to have my eyes closed when two dogs, who have been known to fight for their owners’ attention, literally, were trying to win “love hog” honors.

Nonetheless, I continued to pet both my dogs, with my eyes closed, trying as best I could to take my mind to another place. Any place besides two dogs sniffing, licking and loving me, with all their hearts and souls.

Then, rather abruptly, Walden gets up, goes back to the kitchen, and repeats the dog bowl routine.

Yes, it looks like we’ve got ourselves a ritual.

Despite the distractions, I continued to (try to) meditate. (I keep mistyping meditate as medicate.  Maybe someone is trying to tell me something).

Though I don’t believe I got too much introspection during this “time to myself,” at least I sat still for a few minutes.

Until Walden started chewing one of Luke’s toys (I can recognize the sound from a mile away since it seems to happen every other minute). So…to avoid either 1) Walden choking or 2) Luke’s temper tantrum later, I decided to open my eyes and officially give up.

All I can say is….maybe tomorrow.

(P.S. And just for the record, as soon as I gave up and started back to work, Walden came and laid beside me and fell asleep).

Don’t cook the hell out of food

A work-in-progress excerpt from  my new book, placeholder title of “Starting from Scratch: Introducing the Beginner Chef to the Kitchen.”

Last night, I was most pleased when my husband offered to cook dinner. His offer was timely, as it usually takes at least a week to recover from preparing a Thanksgiving feast. And though the 2009 feast was a success, taken straight from the Cuisine at Home cover, it still feels like such a production to carry out. Since we cannot agree on what to prepare, we usually make everything each wants. The result is enough food for an army, and leftovers that would last until Christmas (if they didn’t go bad first).

This year’s meal had a small twist to the usual. It included a turkey basted with butter and wine (with nothing stuffed on the inside and it tasted absolutely no different), mashed potatoes with brown butter, sweet potatoes with a cranberry/orange sauce, sautéed Swiss chard with butternut squash and apples. Plus some cornbread and a home-made apple pie (still enough to serve four families). Though the meal required some planning, given we travelled out of town for the holiday, it only took me a 2-3 hours to prepare. Everyone liked everything except the Swiss chard; nonetheless, I was able to use the lovely chard as a centerpiece on our kitchen island and as a tactical maneuver to get my way the rest of the weekend (“Luke, if you don’t eat your PB&J, you have to eat the leftover plate of Swiss chard.” That was an easy sell and got a few chuckles along the way). The beauty of this year’s meal was the beautiful backdrop outside dining room in which we ate –the snow capped mountains of Sun Valley (thanks to our friends who shared their lovely place with us).

But back to last night’s dinner. I was thrilled when Rob offered to cook because my motivation was deficient. And even more thrilled when I saw the Donna Hay cookbook open (nothing against chicken stir fry but it’s nice to have some variety).

While Rob cooked, Luke and I sat in front of the fireplace checking out Jamie Oliver’s new Atari cooking game and watching Ina Garten videos, strategically planning our next dinner (looks to be chicken piccata) while doing research for my new book. Yes, I completely steered clear of the kitchen so as not to interfere with Rob’s culinary creation and/or piss him off, whichever might come first.

About an hour later, we sat down to a lovely dish of baked chicken on sweet potato rosti (with a side of baked broccoli and carrots). In three words, it was magnificent. The only downside was that Rob looked as if he were about to have a nervous break-down when we took the first bite of our meal. I turned to him and said, “What the heck is wrong with you?” (I was seriously worried about him). His only comment was a resound, “You stress me out.” I rebutted with, “But I wasn’t even near the kitchen tonight. I stayed away on purpose.” To which he then responded, “It doesn’t matter. You get upset if dinner isn’t ready until 8,” (well yes, that is true) and “you are a good cook and that puts added pressure on me. You stress me out.” (I decided not to take his remarks personally.)

I have created more than my fair share of flops, many of which he has sampled, so I don’t see why he feels pressured to produce an exquisite meal. But the good news? After he’d finished dinner and admitted just how wonderful it tasted, he began to relax. It was then that he admitted a new revelation. “I learned something about myself tonight. One, you stress me out.” (Yes, I believe you mentioned that a few times already). “Two, I don’t need to cook the hell out of things.”

Apparently, his one bout with food poisoning over 15 years ago in New Zealand scarred him even more than I realized. If a recipe suggests a dish cook for 15 minutes, Rob admitted that he intentionally keeps it in the stove or on the grill an extra five minutes “just to be safe.” This, it seems, has been the culprit of some rather dry, burnt meals (hum…not the ESPN diversion like I’d thought). At least he finally admitted his paranoia, “That time I got food poisoning? (Yes, you have mentioned this no less than 1000x since we met.) “The chicken had been on the set of a photo shoot all day. Then after I cooked it that night, I let it sit in my refrigerator for 8 days before I ate the leftovers.”

Well no wonder he got sick! It may have taken 15 years and another stressful meal, but alas he has learned that a person doesn’t HAVE to cook meat or seafood to death to avoid botulism. Not to mention, there might be a lot more flavor in the process.

Lesson learned. “Don’t cook the hell out of food.” In fact, cook it a little shorter than you might think, check for doneness, and keep cooking if it’s not ready just yet. This is a far better strategy than overcooking with the guarantee of a meal that clearly tastes like crap.

While you’re at it…please learn to relax. Yes, dinner before bedtime would be nice, but a botched meal is not the end of the world.

Start in first gear

Last week when I traveled to beautiful Silicon Valley, I met with a very wise man named Rajesh Setty. Honored that he took the time to speak with me, I subsequently enjoyed reading one of his books which I highly recommend – Upbeat.

While we were together, he shared an exercise tip which I failed to mention in Finding Life’s Secret Sauce (can’t believe I left this one out). He was recently working with an instructor who suggested he include yoga in his routine for twenty minutes each day. He successfully mastered this goal and increased the increment to 30 minutes. Then 40. Then…..before he knew it, he was effortlessly and enjoyably doing yoga for an hour/day. If the instructor had started out by saying, “We’re going to do yoga for an hour/day,” he would have discounted the notion due to a “lack of time.”

Yes, we all talk about goals which are realistic and measureable in business, but the same can be said of our personal fitness goals. During my freshman year in college, I took a complete halt from my non-stop, active lifestyle in high school (or some might call it my glory days of basketball – ha!). After gaining 25 pounds, I decided it was time to do something. And that something, for me, was running. I didn’t start out at an hour/day; instead, it was a mere mile I was able to complete during that first month of training. It took months to build up to an hour! The same is now true when training for the Boston marathon. I can’t start my training next weekend by running 20 miles, I have to build up to it (and slowly!). There’s a reason why you start a stick shift car in first gear – it would sputter and die if you started out in fifth.

Start slowly. Start small. Start short. Just START! Eventually, you’ll increase your distance, increase your duration and possibly even decrease your time. But the important thing is that you develop habits that stics by fitting them into your busy schedule – now!

The Art of the Start

Last week in Seattle, I met with a talented lady named Patricia Gorham. For three years, she has been running a very successful business called Inside Out / Style. She believes in uncovering a person’s authentic style, then doing a closet rescue to ascertain what clothes a person should keep, which ones should be tossed, and which ones need to be purchased. She even shops for you! I need her to discover and improve my sense of style, but she’s going to have a long commute to rescue my closet.

As we conversed, she conveyed her natural instincts in evaluating someone else’s wardrobe. She said it was so easy for her to pick and choose clothes that did or didn’t belong in a person’s repertoire, and natural for her to select new items at nearby stores to fill the missing gaps. As she explained her process to me, all I could think was, “I wish I had this talent! When I walk into my closet, I don’t know where to begin.”

Then the conversation turned to my book – specifically my opinions on cooking and fitness. I was repeating my mantra of how learning to cook is the best and easiest way to eat better and control the quality of food a person intakes. I kept reiterating, “Cooking is easy. A person can cook and eat amazing food with little or no effort. It doesn’t have to be complicated.” It was then that Patricia had a great revelation. “Well, I am a terrible cook. And though it comes naturally to you, I don’t know where to start. Assessing someone’s style and wardrobe is a no-brainer for me, but cooking? That’s another story.”

Yes, I suppose we were all given innate talents to make the world an interesting and diverse place. Though we won’t all become artists, chefs and wardrobe consultants, either because we’re not good at it or simply disinterested, where can we fill the missing gaps to become “fair to middling” at skills that don’t come so naturally? Especially ones that might make us healthier, more fit and feeling good?

If we understand the thought process of someone who makes a skill look/seem easy, perhaps we could glean enough information to get us started. As Patricia and I both confided, the art of the start (to snag a great title from Guy Kawasaki) is sometimes the most difficult part.

If you feel that you “can’t cook, don’t like to cook, and am not good at cooking,” where would you like to start?

Our healthcare sickness system

I usually avoid political debates, because I have too many friends on opposite ends of the political spectrum (as a general rule, Seattleites and Tennesseans view the world through a completely different set of spectacles, as anyone who reads my Facebook entries would know). The healthcare debate – which has become a political, corporate and lobbyist debacle – is an exception. I must rant…..

First of all, I have to apologetically admit I have no silver lining for making our healthcare system more efficient and affordable (I guess if I did, I’d probably be preaching on Capital Hill). My health insurance policy sucks – it’s expensive and covers practically nothing. There’s absolutely no incentive for me to pursue preventive health measures, because I have to pay out of pocket for cholesterol checks, skin cancer screens, mammograms and other lovely tests like that.

My answer to this problem, in the short-term, is to take ownership of my health in any way I can. That’s one reason why wrote a book – if you can’t afford to be sick, then do your darn best to stay well.

All this said, I think a fundamental problem of our healthcare system is that it treats illness, rather than promoting wellness. Here’s a true story which beautifully illustrates my point.

I have a good Friend X who has stomach problem Y. (I’m obviously doing my fair share of complying with HIPAA regulations). He goes to the doctor to see what’s wrong and the doctor prescribes medication Z. Great news! Medication Z solves his problems! Better yet, this medication, which costs $W/month, is paid for by his health insurance company (clearly his policy is better than my catastrophic one)! Problem solved? Here’s my synopsis:

• Doctor is happy because patient is better.
• Pharmaceutical company is happy because they are getting monthly revenues from this patient, which could, theoretically at least, continue till eternity.
• Insurance company is happy because they are likely getting a cut from this whole medication/treatment program.
• Patient is happy because he is feeling better. Right?

Well, actually Friend X is glad he’s feeling better but not excited about the prospect of having to take prescription medication the rest of his life. So he decides he wants to go back to the doctor and determine why he is having the medical problem in the first place, a step that was inadvertently skipped on the first doctors’ visit.

Guess what?
The insurance company won’t pay for Friend W to go back to the doctor to find out what is causing stomach ailment Y. After all, his original doctor has found a treatment that worked, so why bother finding a solution that might pre-empt the need for medication at all?

Crazy? I think so.

Despite the cost and hassle, Friend X sees a different MD with a more holistic background and has some tests to figure out the root cause of stomach ailment Y. He pays for these tests from his own pocket. Shortly thereafter, the doctor has determined that his stomach is deficient of some critical bacteria needed for proper digestion, and then treats Friend X with probiotics, a natural remedy, that somehow puts the proper bacteria back into his stomach (medically speaking, I might be able to use better terminology, but you get my point).

What’s the net result of this?

• Original doctor probably doesn’t even know, because he/she was only interested in a treatment for the ailment.
• Doctor #2 is very happy because she found the root of the problem and is effectively treating the patient with a natural remedy (which, by the way, Friend X has to pay for).
• Health plan company didn’t pay for any of the follow up tests anyway, so what do they care?
• Pharmaceutical company is likely bummed because the lifetime revenue of Friend X was taken away from them.
• Patient is very happy because tummy is well without the necessity of prescription medication.

This story perfectly illustrates how the reimbursement protocol of our healthcare system supports treating a sick patient, versus keeping the patient well in the first place – thus demonstrating the power of pharmaceutical and insurance companies in this healthcare debate. I personally think the physician is caught somewhere in the middle. Regardless, for us patients, if we can’t afford to research the root cause of illnesses, may be stuck with an expensive prescription (or possibly surgical) solution which our insurance policy will cover but may not actually be in our best interests long-term.

Depressing, I know. But it puts more onus on us – as patients – to take better care of ourselves.

The crash diet of fitness?

I read a rather discouraging and disparaging article in the WSJ on Tuesday. Entitled, The Fleeting Benefits of Marathons, the article referred to marathons as the “crash diet of fitness.” It claims that few first time marathoners continue to run and that almost no one loses weight from going the 26-mile distance.

This seems to happen too frequently in the health and wellness arena – individuals place the wrong goal at the helm of a fitness aspiration. Assuming weight loss is the reward of running a marathon is simply inaccurate and misplaced. In addition, running a marathon only once shouldn’t be deemed as failure, as the article suggests. In fact, completing any kind of fitness goal deserves a huge pat on the back.

All this said, if you are running a marathon solely to lose weight, I urge you to reconsider. There may be better alternatives – combining exercise with diet alterations – which could be more effective. Alternatively, if you have always wanted to run a marathon, do it because of the feeling of accomplishment you hope to attain from crossing that finish line. Whether you run a marathon one time or twenty, there’s no other feeling like it. No one else can explain it to you or describe it for you. Even if you are about to collapse when you pound out that last step (which I have done numerous times), you’ll be overwhelmed with a sense of pride that no one can take away from you. When I finish marathons, I feel like I can conquer the world. How many activities – fitness or otherwise – can claim this sentiment?

And speaking of losing weight, I never drop the pounds when I’m training for a marathon (nor have friends of mine who train with me). In fact, I tend to add about three-give pounds due to a dramatic increase in appetite, especially towards the end of the training when those 20-milers hit the schedule. Your body needs the extra fuel! Also, after the race is over, the tendency is to keep indulging in the pre-race carb/protein loading even though the mileage is declining. Pretty soon, however, your appetite and diet adjust and the weight drops back off.

All weight issues aside, no one should feel like a loser just because they run one marathon and decide never to run another. Perhaps running isn’t for you. Or perhaps your knees can’t take the miles. Or maybe you’d rather do something that’s more fun than running 20 miles on Saturday mornings when it’s twenty degrees outside! I’ve had many people tell me I’m half crazy when I return from a long run with frozen fingers, half able to walk. And frankly, I don’t argue with their assessment. A person has to do what is right for them, whether it’s running marathons, doing Pilates or riding a bike at the gym.

So for those who feel marathons have fleeting benefits – bah humbug! If you complete this vast challenge, you deserve a big pat on the pack! Even if there’s more of you to pat.

P.S. And good luck to all my friends running Chicago this weekend!

Biscuit Memories

I recently returned from a wonderful trip to North Carolina, the state of my alma mater, first owned home and many dear friends. I was quickly reminded, upon stepping foot onto my old stomping grounds, of one particular food item which is emblematic of the region. Yes, many of you might think I’d mention grits, fried okra, iced tea or all wonderful desserts, each of which I could write about. But the one which stands foremost in my memory from this trip – BISCUITS.

Usually comprised of lard, shortening or lots of butter, they are not exactly the healthiest item on a menu, and even less so if they have a greasy, fried piece of chicken in between, but every now and then, you have to let loose and have one. But back to my trip….

I stepped off the plane in Charlotte and headed to the baggage claim. There, along the winding conveyor system, were photos of giant biscuits, decorating the carrousel as bags passed by. “Yes,” I thought to myself, “I am back in the South!”

Fast forward to Chapel Hill, my next stop on the whirlwind six-day trip. I got to experience another glorious day at Kenan Stadium (we’ll just ignore the dreadful performance by the Heels against the Hoos).  As part of the halftime entertainment, a sophomore student got to attempt a 25 yard field goal. A rare feat by an amateur, he kicked it between the uprights! Rather than a lucrative cash prize which individuals tend to win at NFL games, this lucky student got a year supply of breakfast biscuits at Hardees. Hum…I don’t know about you, but I think he got gypped (then my mom reminded me that students are poor and hungry, so maybe I am wrong).

My final memory is that of the Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen. I remember this little shack of a restaurant having the best cinnamon rolls on the face of the earth. But admittedly, my tastes have changed since college (and so has my body weight, thanks to no longer eating delicious treats like these). I thought the chances of this little establishment still being solvent were small, given it has been (hum..hum…) 23 years since I was soaking in the sites and sounds of UNC.

Not only was the Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen still in business – it was thriving. I could barely fit my car into the drive-through when I stopped by at 8 a.m. on Sunday. When I drove back by SBK later that morning, there was line of 10 cars backed into the street waiting to place their orders. And I must say, one bite of that luscious cinnamon roll and I was re-living my glory days. All for the cost of a whopping $1.19.

I highly recommend planned indulgence. (I happened to plan mine after a long jog as well).

And if you are ever in Chapel Hill, you MUST try one of these for yourself. After all, behind every reputable cinnamon roll is a high quality biscuit.