Pink Simple Cable Scarf

You can download the pattern here for free. I shortened it to 40′ because I’m giving it to my niece who is five years old. If I was making it again for myself, I would use the recommended yarn. I used a slightly less chunky yarn and it ended up very skinny, which is why I turned it into a kids scarf. I think the pom poms are pretty cute; it’s my first time making them. 

In addition to knitting, I also have been trying my baking skills out since my mom got me a KitchenAide mixer for Christmas. (OK, she actually got a while ago when it was on sale it in hopes that it would one day be a wedding gift but decided it sat around long enough and she just wanted me to have it, lol.)

I’ve been really liking the healthy muffin recipes from Runner’s World. Here are the apple walnut muffins:

Runners World Apple Walnut Muffins

You can find the recipe at Runners World. They forgot to mention adding the walnuts, so I added 1/2 cup of chopped walnuts as a final ingredient. I used whole wheat flour instead of white (you can get it at Trader Joe’s). If I make these again, I will use more apples than they call for here, probably a whole cup.

Let me know if you have any great healthy muffin recipes. I’d love to try more!

Now, I’m off to throw some laundry in and hop on the bike trainer while watching the new Walking Dead. I’m pretty sure none of my cleaning is getting done tonight, but there’s always tomorrow for that, right?

The post Things I Made: Kid’s Scarf and Apple Walnut Muffins appeared first on The Budgeting Babe.

FinCon12 – This is a personal finance conference I’m headed to in Denver in September. I spent $149 on the ticket. The event is going to sell out, so I needed to pay sooner rather than later. (But it will motivate me to keep blogging!)

Pleasant Prairie Triathlon – $106.44 for a race that happens in June. And I need to book the hotel soon, too! (Keeping me motivated to stay in super shape.)

BeginnerTriathlete.com subscription – $110 for a 14-month subscription that ran out this month, go figure. This is the site that has my training plans, support, mentors, and nutrition advice. (Again with the motivation.)

Shamrock Shuffle – $45 here; this race happens in March. (Are you sensing a theme yet?)

I’m gonna have to sign up for the Chicago Half Marathon (September) too, because that will also sell out. I need to find less popular activities! Or I just need to do smaller events where I can actually pay during the month I’m doing the activity, as opposed to doing it all so far in advance.

As I mentioned earlier, good thing my tax returns come soon. I didn’t blow my budget for February, but I’ll be coming close by bundling payments for so many activities into one month. Like I’ve said before, fitness can get expensive. Good thing my rent is so darn cheap!

The post Keeping me motivated: Upfront expenses appeared first on The Budgeting Babe.

My first cable knit attempt

For a lot of people, knitting conjures up images of old fashioned grandmas and great aunts. I can say this with confidence because I knit on the train while commuting to and from work, and women frequently stop me to ask me what I’m knitting, then tell me that their grandmother was a fabulous knitter but they never bothered to learn.

I really enjoy these conversations, because they usually end with me saying “I taught myself. It’s so easy.”

I’m really proud of my knitting. And for people trying to save money, I think it’s the ultimate hobby. I should know, because I have a lot of hobbies. Back in 2006, I started thinking about how to curb my cravings to shop. Taking up hobbies was a key part of that strategy. Since then I’ve taken up knitting, photography, running, doing triathlons, and playing guitar (that one is still majorly in the works). On top of the blogging, traveling, baking, and my penchant for reading, that is. All which has worked fabulously well to curb the urge to spend. I don’t have time to browse fashion web sites, keep up with the latest “It Girl” bag, or attend fashion shows. I work out six days a week, and spread the rest of the hobbies out throughout the month.

Over the past several years, I’ve found that some hobbies are more expensive than others, requiring pricey gear, classes or lessons, registration fees, plane tickets, and more. But when it comes to the frugal lifestyle, in my opinion one hobby rises above the rest: knitting. And here’s why:

• It’s cheap! A starter investment is two balls of yarn, which you can get for under $4 each, a set of knitting needles, available for about $3, and maybe a knitting how-to book, prices vary. You can also just ask someone to get you started and then rely on YouTube for the rest, which is how I got my aunt started.
• It stays cheap! With something like running, you start with a pair of running shoes, but then can the hobby quickly become more expensive when you include race fees, technical gear, and more. (Admittedly unnecessary but I find it helpful to stay motivated.) With knitting, all you will ever need, for the most part, is a ball of yarn and needles. You can try more challenging stitches, new patterns, and get as creative as you want. There’s no limit to what you can knit or crochet. And there are a ton of free patterns out there, for instance, on Ravelry.
• It’s sustainable. If you don’t want to buy yarn, you can actually ‘upcycle’ yarn from old stuff. My friend’s mom, for instance, sells knit baby toys made of yarn from old sweaters. I also met a cool girl on the train once who said she used old T-shirts to make her material for knitting.
  

  My nephew, trying to eat his Christmas gift

• It makes really special gifts. I made my nephew a hand-knitted baby blanket for Christmas. I had worked on it all summer, and put a lot of love into it, and he responded lovingly by eating it (see photo).
• You can sell your merchandise. One day, I’ll have an Etsy store. Until then, I can browse the merchandise for pricing. And Pinterest for ideas.
• It’s totally hipster. I opened by talking about how knitting reminds people of grandmas. And don’t get me wrong, I love hanging with seniors and really wish my grandmothers were still alive. I miss them every day. But more and more, young urban ladies are taking up the hobby. It’s a trend I’ve also noticed on public transportation, and I love when I can “talk shop” with people my age. (I’m sure there are demographics somewhere to support this…)
• And finally, you can give back by knitting. There are plenty of ways to give back to the sick, the elderly, and the poor through knitting.  I recently came across the Knit-A-Square project, which helps impoverished communities in Africa by stitching together blankets made from squares knitted all across the world. There are loads more, like The Red Square Project and Warm Up America.

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I’m currently training for a 10-mile run – a respectable, not-too-crazy distance. The run is Saturday. So what happens this week? Frustratingly, my knee, out of the blue, stops working (for those who know anatomy: it’s an IT Band flare up affecting the connective tissues in my knee). Most people would take that as a sign not to do the run, but I haven’t sacrificed my social life for the last 10 weeks for nothing! I’m finishing this race, even if I have to drag myself to the finish line on all fours. And to do that somewhat safely, I had to spend some money on a sports massage today, and on a foam roller this weekend, and, well… here’s the breakdown of what a healthy habit can end up costing for one race:

• New shoes (old ones were shredding my feet after 6 miles): $90
• New shoes after the replacements STILL gave me blisters: $90 (gave the previous new ones to a friend)
• Race entry fee: $50
• New pair of compression shorts for training when the weather was 90 and chafing (eww) called for more than Body Glide: $24
• New pair of lined running tights for training when the weather dipped below 45: $50
• Foam roller: $24
• Sweat wicking socks to help with the blisters: $20?
• NuSkin: probably $4
• Miscellaneous gels, gatorades, etc.: probably $5 x 10 weeks = $50
• Chiropractor + massage therapist appointment = guessing $50 after insurance? No idea, really.
• Gas to drive 150 miles down to the race and back = $40

So, for one race, including a few injuries, the 10-week total for me ends up being closer to $400! That’s ridiculous – I feel like such a yuppie cliche (people still use that word right?). Most people I know talk about how cheap running is, because all you need are good shoes and a route, maybe a cheap watch (mine is from Wal-Mart and cost $3). And yes, for the most part that’s true. But I’ve found that like any hobby or sport, the totals quickly add up.

Of course, there are ways to rationalize the cost: Did I really need to spend the $50 on running clothes? No, but those purchases those will stay around in my closet for years (I still have some of my running gear from HIGH SCHOOL – Go Wolfpack!). Also, did I really need to buy two pairs of shoes? I did actually, and I don’t think it’s unusual for runners to have problems with shoes – heck, some people like RunBlogger have dozens in their collection. And finally, did I really need to spend $400?  No, but $40/week isn’t that much, especially when you think about what I used to spend on one night out per week.  And running is healthy, so whatever motivates me shouldn’t really count as a negative, right?

Wrong. Expenses are still expenses.  And besides, the costs above don’t even begin to take into account all the other expenses that go along with the fitness lifestyle. There’s my monthly gym fee, the $60 sports bras I own, the music I’ve downloaded here and there, the iPod – including its holder and the headphones that break every three months, the cost of doing laundry constantly … the list goes on and on.  I don’t think I can rationalize my fitness costs even if I tried.

So there you have it, my dark secret… despite significantly reigning back a lot of my other expenses over the years, fitness is still a huge weakness for me in my monthly budget. And yet another reason why I needed to get back to blogging. For those of you who work out often and especially those of you who run, I’m curious to know – what are your fitness expenses like?

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I was standing alone at the sandy start line, amidst 2,000 women in goggles, wetsuits and rainbow-colored swim caps, shivering from a mix of cold weather and deafening anxiety, struggling to push down the lump of panic that was slowly forming in my throat as the announcer spoke. This was the morning of my first triathlon, and though I was amazed by the energy, enthusiasm and emotion of the crowd, what I wanted most in the world at that very moment was a friend, someone to share it with, someone to calm me down. I was tired of explaining to all the nervous and smiling girls in my wave that I was, in fact, alone here; that I was racing by myself. I did not consider myself brave or courageous. At that moment I felt stupid for thinking I could handle such a thing. I wanted the race to start. I wanted the sun to come out from the clouds again. I wanted to see my family and my boyfriend and my friends.

But I had told everyone to arrive in time for my swim start at 8:24 a.m., not for the start of the race at 7:00 a.m., and so I was alone (and had been since 5:00 a.m.), surrounded by a swirl of competitors and energy and rubber and precautionary sunscreen. The only thing that kept me sane was Twitter; if I didn’t know anybody in the mob around me, I could at least broadcast my experience to calm my nerves. And so, I continued tweeting right up until B appeared at 8:00 and took my phone for me. It was the only thing I could do while waiting impatiently for the race to start.

I had no idea I would be so nervous. Ten weeks ago when I signed up, it was almost on a whim. I was planning to do a half-marathon in 2008 and was secretly hoping to follow up with a marathon in 2009, just in time to count the accomplishment before I turn 30. But instead I injured my back and ended up at the chiropractor, the doctor and the X-ray machine, with a prescription for physical therapy and no prognosis. I was frustrated and unhappy and gaining weight. And I hurt. Yet there was nothing wrong with me. “You have the Mladic back!” my dad pronounced. My dad has had two back surgeries. This was not welcome news.

My co-worker suggested a triathlon. For whatever reason, I signed on without giving it much thought. She sold it pretty well, “Anyone can do a triathlon. If you get tired, you can just sidestroke in the pool, pedal slowly on the bike or walk the run. It’s short. You can do it.” And I bought it. I signed up. I figured I could get at least three others to sign up with me. I overestimated my persuasive powers. Apparently not many people like doing three sports in one day.

I, on the other hand, thought it sounded fun and less harsh on my back than running every day. And so my training began, six days per week for ten weeks, running, swimming, biking and strength training.

At first people were supportive. My Facebook page was filled with messages of support. But that support quickly eroded. It was spring in Chicago and my friends didn’t understand why I wasn’t going out. My best friend, whom I love dearly, needing my support through some things in her own life, wished I would “get over this working out thing” I was doing. (Joking, of course, but half-way serious.) It hurt to not give all of myself for my best friend. But I couldn’t be up until two in the morning every weekend; for my health, for myself, I needed to focus on training. I invited her to start working out with me to start a healthy habit, but she declined. I tried to be there as best I could, but post-workout, work-night phone calls are usually pretty empty.

She wasn’t the only one I left hanging. “You know, sometimes you get on a streak where we see you often,” another close friend explained. “And other times you sometimes drop back. This is just one of those times. Nobody expects you to be out year round.” Still, it felt to me like everyone was out and about, whooping it up without me. And I was letting everyone down by not being “fun Nicole.” Despite my disappointing social performance, I kept my training schedule.

I made compromises for the sake of my workout schedule every day. To wash the dishes or go to the gym? To stay out with clients or go to the gym? Time and again, I committed to the triathlon. After a while, the commitment got easier. I was happy at the gym. I found a rhythm in the pool. I slept better after a hard workout. The stronger I felt, the better my back felt. Soon, my back was a non-issue and I was feeling great (with a very dirty house). In May I ran a personal best at a 5K charity run. My uncle told me it was the best he’d ever seen me run.

But as I listened to my body more and my distances became longer, I noticed another hurdle: My exercise induced asthma was getting worse. At the finish line of that personal best 5K, my chest tightened up. As my dad raced for my inhaler, I began to worry yet again that I wasn’t fit for a triathlon. But unlike my back issues, this time I didn’t put off a trip to the doctor or try to work through the pain. A trip to the allergist and a list of confirmed asthmatic allergens later, I started on a new regimen of lung treatments designed to get me through the triathlon. Within two weeks, my lungs were performing up to speed with the rest of my body. Physically I was ready.

Mentally, however, I was building myself into frenzy mode.

Two weeks before the race, with local temperatures hovering in the 50’s at night, I began obsessively checking the weather. The week of the race, I was in full panic mode. I was texting my coach — the same friend who encouraged me to do the race – to share my concerns. Should I get a wetsuit? Water temperature turned into my favorite discussion topic. And it stayed that way until the day before the race.

The day before the race, the highest temperature didn’t even reach 60. It was pouring outside. The fitness expo was filled with amazon women, all who had wetsuits. I did not. I probably asked ten people what to do. Each had a different opinion. A 50-year old told me it would be no worse than a cold shower. A muscled, superfit athlete told me I absolutely needed one. I weighed the $300 cost in my head ($300 for 15 minutes?!?) and talked a vendor down to $150 for a suit. Ultimately it didn’t matter. Standing in the rain, trying on a suit too big for me, I learned not one vendor had a wetsuit for rental or purchase in my size. The nail was on the coffin. I was going to swim cold. I went home and chugged a bottle of Cherry Pepto.

That night, B and I checked into the host hotel, a Holiday Inn in Naperville, about an hour outside of the city. Another woman, also in total freak out mode, told me how mad she was about the hotel choice. Now, I know this sounds ridiculous, but the moment I stepped into the hotel I knew the universe was trying to tell me something. A six-foot-six, two-hundred-seventy-something pound man in a kilt was standing at the desk with a puppet on his arm, letting the puppet do the checking in. Behind me, a man with hair to his butt in head-to-toe tie dye was discussing photography with a couple in what I can only describe as renaissance gear. A few tipsy elf girls strolled off the elevator, looking for the nearest party.
“Sci-Fi convention,” the woman at the front desk explained. For some reason, a wave of relief rolled over me. I’m pretty sure that was somebody up there – my grandma, my grandpa – telling me to lighten up. Enjoy the moment. As I walked outside to gather my things, the sun broke through the sky.

Later that night, I ran through my pre-race checklist, packed my bags and set out my supplies for the next day: helmet, race belt, sports bra, tri-suit, shoes, Gatorade, banana and more. I slept well that night. As well as I could, I guess, considering I would awake at 4:30 a.m.

My alarm jolted me out of bed in what felt like the dead of the night. I dressed in the dark, rustled B out of bed and off we went, he sleepily and I electrified, into the sunrise. We passed some sci-fi-ers smoking a hookah. I don’t think it contained tobacco.

B dropped me and my bike off at 5:00 a.m.; I insisted he go back and sleep until 7:00 a.m. He was working on a paper for his summer law clinic and he couldn’t be in the set-up transition area anyway. I was on my own. I got my body markings (one for your swim wave on the leg, and two for your bib number on the arms). I thought they looked cool. I hope I looked confident. I was honestly fine at this point. One girl told me I was brave for being without a friend. Another lended me sunscreen. We debated the benefits of the wetsuit yet again. The sun started to heat up the parking lot, the energy level rose and I was excited.

Which brings me back to the beach. After two hours of mental preparation and meeting fellow triathletes, I was suddenly feeling very alone, wishing I hadn’t blown off my friends for ten weeks, pushing down the panic of the unknown and cursing myself for the mental drama.

And then, my internal crisis was rudely interrupted by the blaring of a horn, indicating the race had started. I was 90 minutes away from my wave start – it felt like a week – and it was a roller coaster. I was awed by the power of the elites, I was humbled by the cancer survivors, I was swept up by the spectators and fascinated by the ages of the oldest competitors. One woman walked out of the water and immediately needed her cane. But she did it. She walked up the beach with her cane.

B showed up right on time. He carried my warm-up fleece, snapped pictures and hugged me good luck wishes. But he was a spectator and so when my orange cap went on, he stood in the spectator area, cheering me on. I signed up for this by myself, and I would do this myself. I had to get in the water and get going. The waiting was killing me.

My wave got into the water at 8:20 a.m. The sun made a re-emergence and was proudly beaming down on our group as we playfully cheered ourselves on. There were 50 of us or so. I was positioned in the back, goofily grinning and looking out of place. By the time I got in, the water had warmed to 70 degrees and I instantly knew my worrying had been for naught. This was it.

The air horn sounded and we were off, a mess of flailing limbs and splashing, bobbing bodies. The swim was harder than expected. I could not swim straight. I could not get into a flow. I kept bumping up against slow breaststrokers in front of me, and getting lapped by fast swimmers behind me. I could not break free from the pack. I swallowed a lot of water. I worried the women in front of me had peed in the pool. It felt like an eternity in the water; like a floating roller derby. I was winded when I got out of the water. I had to keep going.

The next leg was the bike and that wasn’t difficult for me, but I went a lot slower than anticipated. I didn’t pass ANYBODY on the bike. (I was counting.) Lots of women passed me. Still, it was sunny and my energy was good. I caught sight of my aunt and uncle, cheering me on loudly from the sidewalk and it bolstered my spirits. I started to hear people cheering on the streets. I smiled the entire second lap of the bike. By the time my hour-long ride was over, I was having a ball. But the run was still left.

I had heard a lot of girls freaking out about the run in the same way that I freaked out about the swim. The run, however, was my best leg of the race. I ran the whole way. I passed people. I said, “Keep going!” and “Nice job!” to those near me. I ended up running my regular 5K pace, even though my legs were on fire. I couldn’t believe I had the energy. I couldn’t believe I was running. I couldn’t believe I was laughing.

As I came down the home stretch, through the trees on a beautiful summer morning, strangers along the course were reading my name on the race bib and calling out my name. “FINISH STRONG NICOLE!” and “YOU GOT THIS! GREAT JOB NICOLE.” I was soaring. I crossed the finish line and the announcer called my name. I threw my hands in the air. A woman gave me a medal and snapped my picture. I held back tears. My aunt, my uncle and B were waiting at the finish line with congratulatory hugs. I took it all in.

I suppose I realized it then. But I was too tired to think much about it. I came home and posted my race results (1:55:50), shared the news with my friends who couldn’t make it and looked through pictures. I was basking in the post-race buzz. But only today did I truly realize what the race meant to me. I didn’t do this with anybody else, for anybody else. I did it for me. I conquered my own fears, overcame my physical issues and mental anxieties and persuaded myself to accomplish a goal I never imagined I could do. Five years ago, a 5K seemed like an impossible task. Yesterday I finished a triathlon. The post-race big breakfast was nice, but the knowledge of my own strength and the depth of my determination will stay with me for life.

Ten weeks ago I made a commitment. I didn’t know what it would take, or how it would affect me or how far I’d have to reach inside myself to do it. I didn’t realize how much making a commitment to myself would teach me about the life I live, and the life I want to live. Ten weeks ago, I signed up for a triathlon. And today, one day after crossing the finish line, I won’t call myself a changed woman. Rather, today I will call myself a woman for the time in my life.

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