Last year I started
running. With no conviction at all, I just desperately needed it. I needed to
do some exercise. My body and my head were screaming it out loud. I could not
afford back then to go to the gym, which is what I had done very happily at
other moments in my life. But I was simply unable to make it work in my crazy
schedule. -and no, these are not excuses, I know far too well what I mean-; so
while running is something I'd always hated, at that time it was all I could
manage, so I decided to give it a go.
For a few weeks I was
improving my aerobic capacity (well, basically I was creating it, because I
have never had it), returning home breathless, flushed like a tomato about to
explode, supporting the ironic comments of my hubby, -who can be really annoying-;
seeing my daughters’ looks, as they could not believe my face could get that
color.
But gradually my husband’s
bad jokes began to stop as he develop a bit of healthy envy on my stamina and
my tomato face just got grapefruit red instead. I did never run long distances
or high pace, but I started to get into shape.
In the middle of that, I
had to move houses, have a new job, in a new country, in a new environment, and
running went again to the bottom of my priorities list.
It's been a busy year, but
it looks like things are back to routine. That is why some months ago, when I
had that feeling of having been here long enough, I decided I had to start
running again.
Just as summer started I
went back to running. I started and I slowly got in shape. I even took my running
shoes on holidays –and used them- and, at some point some weeks ago, I was
running for 30 minutes at a really good pace. And of course, I did it once, and
then again, and again, and again. And I did more km in a week that I had done
in my entire life. The feeling of accomplishment by running faster and faster,
more comfortably every time; the anticipation of the joy of running – I was
totally hooked. But for better or worse, it might be my over-excitement, or my absolute
lack of technique, but right now my left knee is keeping me tied to the chair.
I probably trained a bit too much a bit too soon, overloaded with excitement
and recklessness.
So I'm frustrated. Waiting
for my knee to fully recover seems to be taking forever.
You are warned, guys:
Injuries are not good. But being injured because you've tried seems to me the
most healthy of exercises.
So, since I am injured it
was inevitable fall back into temptation. And the temptation for me is shaped
almost exclusively chocolate. Black. Bitter. Intense.
These cookies are a shot of
chocolate when you need it. They're easy, they're fast, and they are simply
perfect. So whether you're injured or not, when you need some good chocolate,
here are some cookies to draw a huge smile in your face, sure.
Pure chocolate cookies
100 grams of plain flour
125 grams of cocoa powder
1 pinch of salt
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
80 grams of butter
170 grams icing sugar
1 small egg
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
Sift the flour, cocoa, salt
and cinnamon in a bowl. Put the softened butter in another bowl with the icing sugar
and mix with a wire whisk for about 3 minutes until pale and foamy. Add the egg
and vanilla and mix again. Gradually add the flour, cocoa, salt and cinnamon mixture
until you have a dough. Wrap in kitchen plastic and put into the refrigerator
at least one hour.
Preheat oven to 180 degrees
and prepare a tray with a silicone sheet or baking paper. Make small balls of the
size of a teaspoon. I put a couple of drops of oil in my hands and work the
dough quickly into balls of a similar size. Put them in the tray well apart
because they will spread in the oven and we do not want to stick.
Take them to the oven for
about 8 minutes. Remove them carefully with a spatula while still hot, and
place them in the tray to cool on wire rack until completely cool.
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