The view from my kitchen window captures rolling hills, lush prairie, suspicious llamas….and obsessive athletes. Yes, you heard me right. I seem to live on one of the most popular biking/running routes in all of Boulder County. The flow is constant and colorful. Sponsored spandex, passionate spitting, and zero percent body fat……it’s all available just 20 feet from my front door.
For the most part I don’t mind. These people are nice, quiet, consistent company. I can always count on them for a friendly smile or serious solute. However, the first week we moved into this wacky neighborhood, I came upon some hair raising discoveries about these extreme jocks.
Hot as Hell. Noon. I’m outside with a hammer, beating the life out of my dresser. I take a quick breather, leaning back on my heals. Then I hear it. Yelling. With hammer in hand, I squint towards our narrow road. I spot a man driving at less than 1 mile per hour in his red Subaru. Of course. A Subaru. With his entire head sticking out the window, this gutsy dude is yelling some nonsense at an apathetic, innocent, female runner. One must be standing to properly serve justice, so I rise to my fee. But then I wonder if he has a weapon that’s bigger than mine. What a jerk.
Hot as Hell. 12:15 pm. I’m outside with a chain, beating the dickens out of my side table. From the corner of my eye I see that little twerp heading back down the road, harassing the pretty lady again. I glance down at my 20 pound tool. He probably has bear mace or something. If he comes around again, perhaps I’ll call the cops.
And he does. At least twice a day. We figured out that he is some sort of coach or trainer….or some kind of insane. Disturbing..hmmm? Runners hire him to drive deathly slow (risking lots of people’s lives in the process) next to them, and: yell, carry on polite conversation, video tape their gasping, or whistle. Believe me, I have been listening…and a lot of the talk is about diet.
I wonder if the crazy coach is paid to eat meals with his clients. Does he sit with his arms crossed and glare when the athletes pop too many grapes into their mouths? Does he thunk them upside the head when they yearningly glance at a bag of potato chips? Does he stomp on their valuable foot when they almost order fries on-the-side? When a hungry triathlete begs for a chocolate chip cookie, does the Subaru owner threaten to take footage of it on his cam-corder and show it to his client’s disappointed family? And does he smile when his tortured employers salivate whilst running past my house because they can smell Sweet Potato Wedges sizzling in the oven?
These Sweet Potato Wedges are simple and divine. They are perfect paired with a hunk of salmon or a bunch of grilled shrimp. The key is baking them to perfection. A slight crunch on the outside breaks way to the glorious, velvety inside.
Sweet Potato Wedges
2 Large Sweet Potatoes or Yams (roughly cut into 1 inch cubes)
2-3 Tablespoons Olive Oil
1/2 Tablespoon Dark Maple Syrup
1/2 Tablespoon Balsamic Vinegar
1/2 Teaspoon Dried Thyme
Ground pepper (optional of course)
Preheat Oven to 420 degrees. Place your potatoes in big bowl. Drizzle all of your wet ingredients over the orange cuties, and combine. Now add your thyme, the amount of salt you prefer and a tad bit of pepper. Evenly distribute on a baking tray. Bake for about 40 minutes, making sure to disturb and redistribute the potatoes halfway through. Eat up and thank the Lord that you aren’t on some crazy Olympian diet!