On the brink of another move this July (To Amman, Jordan in case you missed it!), my body and mind have begun to ramp up, once again, to weather what is said to be one of life’s most stressful occasions. Moving is a way of life for us. We’ve moved five times in the past seven years, and people always ask if moving gets easier. The answer is, “No, but you get better at it” or you quit. And I’m not a quitter. Although I did quit smoking once, but that’s a story for another time and another topic. See also: Maybe I’ll start again if I fail this time.
I am the first to admit to my weaknesses and I’ll admit that I am the very very worst with goodbyes. Not an attractive quality when goodbye is also a way of life. I tend to fall in love with people, places and things, regardless of how hard I try to protect myself, which means leaving is never easy. I’ve learned to control the things I can control and feel deeply everything I can’t control. The motto of my new Moveaholics Not-So Anonymous program. Let’s just say I’ve learned a lot about myself along the way.
Strength of mind and body are absolutely key for transition success. So I’ve begun to train for this move as if it were the Ironman of moves. I’ve studied past moves and I’ve cataloged the things that have worked and have not worked and the two things that always lead to a trot across the finish line instead of someone dragging my dead lifeless body, is being in excellent physical and mental health. One which I find, follows directly in the footsteps of the other.
A few months back, against my better judgement after a giant lunch with garlic-anchovy dressing, I wandered into a local cycling gym, protected my mouth from offending the young receptionist and told her I was ready to ride. The rest is basically history, except I drugged my friend Lauren and made her come with me to the first complimentary session. I didn’t actually drug her, but the result of the 50 minutes of cycling left us both high on endorphins (and later iced coffee) and we are now officially addicts, of the cycling sort. It is such a blast, that it seems as though it should be illegal: Two moms, child-free, on bikes, in a room that may as well be a nightclub, fitted with mirrors and turntables. We’re just a few cocktails away from complete mom anarchy. I won’t speak for Lauren (although she basically looks like a swimsuit model now), but I have lost pounds and inches and gained a grip of confidence and respect for my body on our short journey. My head is clear and the finish line (or starting line, depending on how you look at it) to Amman is within view.
Lauren and I (sort of) feel guilty when we head straight to the bakery after our rides, so we’ve begun to test out recipes that are both amazing — because we both love food — and because Lauren is an amazing and inventive chef. Lauren came to me bearing these little crepes a couple of weeks ago, and they were such a treat that didn’t involve heading directly back into the noon session to burn another cool 400 calories, I asked her if she’d share the recipe with you.
Don’t be shy about the powdered sugar. Like I was. I asked Lauren if we could replace it with honey, but she schooled me straight from her culinary days. 1/4 cup of honey has 480 calories. 1/4 cup of powdered sugar only 120. You can’t argue with that. Lauren also mentions that with the use of gluten free oats, these little lacy-ladies can be completely gluten free. Each serving is just shy of 200 calories.
I’m angling for a Peloton bike with Paul (that I’m sure I’ll blow up with the wrong step-up or down transformer in Amman) to ease my goodbyes to Zengo, but pending a winning lotto ticket, I am also researching cycling gyms in Amman for the energy and camaraderie that cycling alone in a dark room provides. I will Facetime Lauren and her food in with me on each ride.