Mom’s Apple Cake (Or: When Running Gives You Lemons, Make Something Unrelated)

So, after all that, I sucked at Across the Years. All the 200 mile weeks, extra rest, (semi) clean diet (let’s be reasonable, people), and months of planning, I only made it 138 miles before turning into a background zombie from the Walking Dead. Yep, it got ugly.

Things seemed to be going pretty well at the beginning. I had my rented RV set up next to the course, the weather was cold, but clear, and I was excited to run.

And then I ran. And ran. And ran. And walked. And walked. And walked.

But I didn’t really rest much. Frankly, I did the worst of both worlds – I neither ran fast and rested, nor moved slowly and conserved energy. I was all over the map with no real vision of what the hell I was doing. So, after 34 hours, with minimal rest, I only had 138 miles, still on track to reach my goal of 255 in 72 hours, but way below what my head told me I needed if I actually WANTED TO SLEEP.

And I did. Very, very much.

Because something was very off with the breathing part of my body. I had developed a whistling in my chest and some respiratory distress. At first, I ignored it, figuring it was just part of running on a very dusty course, but as I got more and more fatigued, it became harder to ignore the fact that I now looked, and sounded, like the Walking Dead. Cough, whistle, cough, shuffle, wheeze, shuffle, cough, whistle.

The only thing I could think to do was go back to the hotel (where my family was staying), take a hot shower to get all the dust off, and try to get some real sleep in a real bed. I could still regroup after a few hours and head back to the course, right?

Wrong. Four hours later, I woke up with a full on hack, snotty head, and a sore throat. Wha? Was this just “trail hack”, an unfortunate side effect of running on dirt, or was it the cooties that had followed my family around all Christmas holiday and that I had triumphantly claimed I had avoided? (You would think I watch enough reality TV to know how completely stupid it is to brag about “not getting sick” when everyone around you is sick, because cootie karma will definitely come and bite you in the ass.)

So, I went back to sleep. Finally, at 7 am, twelve hours after I left the course, I dragged myself out of bed and knew my race was over. I was sick.

I don’t know if I was getting sick beforehand (I sure didn’t feel like it), or if my horrible “neither in, nor out” race strategy just dug too big a hole for me to get out of, but I was toast. Whatever the cause, I figured out I still don’t know diddly squat about running strategy even after doing it seriously for ten years. Winging it did not work in this scenario. Go Figure.

Anyway, it is now a full week after I started that race and I’m still sick. I’m typing this in black cotton sweats left over from the ’80s, my hair on top of my head, and Uggs on my feet. I’m quite stunning, in a Cabin-in-the-Woods-victim-left-for-dead sort of way. And since I clearly cannot go out in public (even the mailman practically threw my mail at me rather than coming within the contamination strike zone), and I clearly cannot run (Like I would even want to. I hate running. Running is stupid.), I am doing what I always do in times of distress (and happiness, and anger, and peace) – I’m cooking. A lot. A lotta lot.

This Apple Cake is the perfect “I feel sorry for myself” treat. It’s not too sweet, it makes your whole house smell like someone loves you, and it has fruit in it so you can pretend like you are doing something good for yourself even if you are going to eat half of it in one sitting while binge-watching Fargo. The recipe is one that my mom made at least every few months because it was my sister’s favorite, so whenever I smell it baking, I think of my sister, which always makes me feel better.

Moms, sisters and Apple Cake make pretty much everything better.

Who cares if running sucks?

 

PS – If you are really feeling sorry for yourself, slather butter on a slice of this and toast it for a few minutes. Buttered cake, yes.

 

Mom’s Apple Cake

3 eggs

2 cups sugar

1 1/4 cup vegetable or canola oil

juice of 1/2 lemon

3  cups AP flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

2 teaspoons pure vanilla

3 cups finely sliced apples (peeled)

1 cup chopped pecans

butter and flour for greasing pan

 

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour a bundt pan.

In a large bowl, beat 3 eggs. Add sugar and beat again until fully mixed.

Add oil and lemon juice, mix well.

Sift together flour, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon. Add dry mixture to wet mixture.

Add vanilla, mix.

Add apples and pecans. Fold until incorporated. Pour into bundt pan.

Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes.

Tagged as: 72 hour, Apple Cake, Mom's Apple Cake, Mom's recipe, post-race blues, Running, sister