Stayin’ Alive

There’s no doubt about it, October has been a tough month, probably the toughest month since the start of F’s residency. With F in Los Angeles and the female contingent of the Bahnson family here in Santa Barbara, all aspects of our lives have been challenged.

Here in SB, the month has been going surprisingly better than expected. When you have such low expectations, there’s no where to go but up, right?

The girls have been doing their usual routines in a rather happy-go-lucky way. As for me, I’ve had no major meltdowns, screaming fits, tantrums or time-outs. See, I told you things have been going well! Just when I’m on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion or frustration, Ayay and Tingting come to the rescue. Just tonight I stood for a moment in the mess of a kitchen I had to clean for the umpteenth time today. Ayay jumped down from her seat at the table and ran over to me to give me the most loving hug. Tingting saw Ayay, momentarily stopped her activity of pulling all the large Tupperware containers out of the cabinet, and came to give me one of her hugs. Ahhhhh. All of my tension melted away in an instant.

Low expectations, and really 2 extremely wonderful daughters who know their mother so well, have kept us going this month. Let’s hope we can keep it up for another month!

 

Going Strong!

 

 

Sweaty Yoga

Since my triathlon season is over for a few months, I decided to try something different — Bikram Yoga. Bikram Yoga is a series of 26 poses all performed in 90 minutes and in a room heated to 105 degrees. That wasn’t a typo. The room was heated to 105 degrees. Crazy, you say? I must agree. But people swear by this Bikram Yoga thing.

F and I dabbled in Bikram yoga years ago in Portland. He recalls his experience as 90 minutes of extreme dehydration while trying to do highly uncomfortable stretches and poses with slippery, sweaty limbs in a hot, stinky room. I shrugged and thought, “It wasn’t that bad.” Was it?

I refreshed my memory tonight. Having arrived 10 minutes early, I entered the yoga room and was immediately slapped in the face by heat and stink. No doubt about it, it was hot and stinky. Like sweaty old socks stinky but I figured I’d get over that soon enough. I rolled out my mat and dropped down flat on my back into savasana, or dead man pose. Hmm, a dark warm room, no kids, major sleep deprivation…I was just about to fall asleep when the teacher flicked on the lights and everyone stood up.

I noticed the scantily clad men and women around me.  It made sense men were in short shorts and shirtless and women in sports bras.  The room was 105 degrees. But the girl with the bottoms of her butt cheeks hanging out from under her “shorts?” Not necessary.

The instructor started spouting off instructions from the front of the room…arms up, thumbs crossed, lock the elbows and knees, reach for the ceiling, you in the white shorts keep your eyes open, good job black shorts with striped towel, white shorts white shorts keep your knees locked…Bikram Yoga is a little different in that the instructor does not circulate around the room adjusting people’s postures. As a student, I had to watch the more experienced students very carefully and listen to the teacher’s cues.

90 minutes of sweaty yoga was a roller coaster ride. There were moments of “Oh, this feels great. I LOVE this. I feel powerful!” followed by moments of “Dammit. I’m never doing this ever again. I can’t even hold my ankle because I’m too sweaty. I should have gone running instead.”  But, for the most part, I felt flexible and strong and definitely saw many areas for improvement. Unfortunately, I drained my water bottle before class ended, which left me a bit light headed toward the end. I did a few extra savasanas because of that.

When class was over, I gathered my sweat-drenched towel and mat and shakily walked out into fresh cool air. Ahhhhhhhhh.

I will say, despite the shaky arms and legs, and after I spent 5 minutes in the cool evening air, I felt pretty darn good. Refreshed even. But sheesh, a 9 mile run would have been a much easier workout! I guess that’s the point — to try something new and challenge my  mind and body in a different way. So I have plans to go back, and this time I’m bringing at least a gallon of water!

Lost and Found

I like routines and schedules. In fact, I crave and need routines and schedules in all areas of my life. For the past 6 months, I’ve had a strict triathlon training schedule, and now that my last official event has come and gone, I have no workout schedule. No purpose for exercise. It’s been 5 days like this and I feel completely lost. You think I’m a bit crazy? Yeah…so?

This morning, I found myself at the gym with no plan. I dropped off Tingting at the Kids’ Korner and wandered into the cardio room. I decided to try something different, so I hopped on the elliptical machine to do 30 minutes of cardio. After scanning the TV’s and learning that Chicago lost the bid for the 2016 Olympics, I looked at the clock…4 minutes had gone by. 4 long, boring minutes. After 15 minutes, I had had enough. I wiped down the machine and wandered into the weights room.

Weights? I haven’t lifted weights in over 6 months. Biceps curls, shoulder exercises, lunges, triceps, squats…enough. Done. Get me out of this testosterone filled room please.

What to do now…I meandered down one hallway and back, down a ramp to the bathroom, back up the ramp and up to the aerobics studios. I stopped to read some bulletin boards and peeked into a yoga class. I wandered to the other end of the gym and took a look at the pool, wondering if anyone was lap swimming. I finally decided to do some stretching in the Techno Gym, where I saw a friend who suggested I run the SB Half-Marathon in November. Hmmm…

After 35 minutes of unfocused exercise and 15 minutes of aimless wandering, I called it a workout. As I drove away from the gym, I thought more about my friend’s half-marathon suggestion, and in my head, I started mapping out a possible half-marathon training schedule. 5 weeks until the half-marathon? I think I may have found a new focus.

All By Ourselves…

F moved out last night. Contrary to what you may think, I was not so fed up with the life of a surgery resident’s wife that I kicked him to the curb. He left voluntarily, sort of.

F is spending the next 2 months in LA doing a required trauma rotation at the Los Angeles County Hospital. Lucky F will be treating, among other emergencies, real gang members with real gunshot wounds, in contrast to the poorly stabbed gang members he gets here in SB. As they say in his program, he’ll start the 2 month rotation a boy and come out a man. A tired man, but a man nonetheless. He’ll be on a schedule of On Call, Post-Call, Pre-Call. On-Call being he reports at 6am for a full 24+ hours of treating emergency trauma patients. On-Call bleeds into Post-Call when, after checking on patients, he gets to go home 30+ after he started his On-Call Day. The next day is Pre-Call — back to work at 6am and home around dinner time. Though considering F had lunch at 4:30pm today, dinner could be as late as 10pm. The next day starts the cycle again: On-Call, Post-Call, Pre-Call. Cycle, repeat. At least he has every 6th day off…to sleep.

As for me, I’m at home in SB with the girls, carrying on with our day-to-day routines. We’ll do some short trips to LA now and then, but for the most part, we’ll be having girls-night every night at our house.

Hmmm…F goes into the 2-month rotation a boy and gets to come out a man? Me, I’m going into the next 2 months an already frazzled at-home mom, and I may come out having to check myself into the loony bin!

I Tri-ed, I Finished, I’m Sore

Last Sunday, I competed in the Carpinteria Triathlon — my 4th triathlon, but my first Olympic Distance which consisted of a 1.5K swim, 40K bike, and 10K run.  I wish I could intelligently describe the 3 hour and 3 minute event, but my quads are still sore and are preventing me from thinking straight. But I’ll do my best…

For days before leading up to the triathlon, I was crossing my fingers for cooler temperatures and loads of adrenaline. On race day, my wishes came true. But fog? Did I ask for fog? Because it was damn foggy that morning.  The fog started lifting by the time of the swim start; however, we still could not see the swim buoys from the start line on the beach. Luckily, I was in the 2nd wave and of the slower pack, so I simply followed the fast swimmers out to the buoys. Once out there, the bright yellow and beach ball style buoys were highly visible against the grey background.  The ocean conditions were excellent and my pleasant swim was complete in 33:48.

After running up the beach and barefoot (OUCH) across the transition area, I stripped off my wetsuit and got ready to bike. The bike portion offered a nice mix of flats and hills. I love climbing hills, but I don’t love going down hills. I found myself passing athletes on the uphill only to be passed by them on the downhill. I could have been more aggressive, but I also wasn’t sure how much I’d have left for the 10K run. The last thing I wanted to do was bonk on the run. So, I played it safe on the bike, though still managed to keep my legs burning throughout the entire 1 hour, 3o minutes and 42 seconds it took me to finish the bike course.

And the run…every triathlete knows that no matter how strong of a runner you are, the first X minutes of the run portion is hell. It takes me about the first 10-15 minutes of shuffling through the run course before my legs actually feel like running. But run they did. Energy and adrenaline got me through the run feeling strong and happy. I finished my 10K run in 52:29.

Total time, including my transitions: 3:03:16.

I was quite proud of my time, given that it was my first Olympic Tri and I expected myself to finish in at least 3.5 hours. I worked all summer on my ocean swimming and swam the course almost 3 minutes faster on race day than I did the week before. I rode the bike portion faster on race day than when F and I rode it just 2 weeks prior to the race. And the run…the fact that I felt strong (after swimming and biking) and finished well under an hour was simply delightful. (Perhaps I have my good pals Gu and Clif to thank for the energy.)

Of course, after the results were posted, I HAD to compare my times to others. So I finished in the bottom half…that doesn’t bother me too much. I mean, there were some elite athletes competing…locals who finished the 1.5K swim in 24 minutes, the  40K bike in just over 1 hour, and the 10K run in 38 minutes. The first place finisher completed the entire triathlon in 2 hours and 11 minutes!  That I can never do, but I do know I can do better next season and I’m already thinking about how I can shave minutes off of my times. Under 3 hours would be great…2:45 would be fantastic.

But before I can even work on improvement, I’ve gotta get these quads back to normal. Ouch.

The Love Game

“Let’s play a lovegame, play a lovegame…” sang Lady Gaga. Yes, we were listening to Lady Gaga, again.

“How do you play the love game?” asked Ayay.

“Uhhh…I’m not sure,” I answered, a bit concerned about where this conversation was heading.

“I think you spell out the person’s name and then write I Love You,” she said.

I am confident Lady Gaga had something else in mind, but I sure do like Lady Ayay’s interpretation of the LoveGame.

Confessions of a Try-Athlete

I’ve had my blue Bianchi Eros road bike for at least 6 years. So I’ve been riding my road bike for at least 6 years, some years with more frequency than others. After 6 years of riding, I still do not know how to change a flat tire.

F has shown me several times how to change a flat, and it’s not like I’ve never gotten a flat while riding. In fact, F recently reminded me of a ride during which I got not 1, but 2 flats. Fortunately for me, F has been with me every time I’ve gotten a flat, so he’s been the one to perform the speedy fix-ups.

This past week I embarked on a 2.5 hour training ride. I had a bad feeling before starting the ride. I had managed to go all season without a flat tire, but for some reason I felt like that day was going to be the day of the imminent flat.

During my first 10 minutes of riding, I pulled over 3 times because it had sounded and felt like I had run over something sharp. All three times my tires were clear. At minute 12, as I made a left turn through an intersection, I heard it…snap, crackle, pop! I pulled over to find my rear tire punctured with a nail. Within seconds, the tire started deflating. Aw, shit.

I got off my bike and opened up my little bike bag to get out my “tools.” What kind of tools, you ask? Tire levers? No. Multi-tool? Nope. Patch kit? Nah. Spare tube and pump? Negative.

My tools include my Blackberry to locate and call a cab and my credit card to pay my cabbie. I was home within 20 minutes.

My handy tools

Later that day a friend asked, “What are you going to do if you get a flat during your triathlon?”

You mean there isn’t a support van tailing me with a crew of bike experts ready to hop out and fix my flat in 30 seconds flat? No? Really? Ok, fine. I’ll start carrying some proper tools and  I’ll learn to change a flat. Stat.

4-Year-Old Fitness

Ayay and her friend A were the only 2 kids in their gymnastics class this past week. They were having a blast with their teacher, practicing handstands on the springy floor, straddle jumping down the tumble track, learning assisted back handsprings, and doing tricks off the springboard.

About 30 minutes into class, two tall, fit, 20+ year old guys walked in and briefly chatted with Ayay’s gymnastics teacher. As they chatted, Ayay and her friend continued practicing cartwheels and tuck jumps across the floor while giggling and shouting with glee.

As the 2 fellows left the gym, they glanced at the super energetic, super happy 4-year-olds sprinting to the next apparatus. The tall guy said to the slightly taller one, “We should all feel that way about fitness.”

So true.

Advice from Dr.Ayay

Ayay insisted that I read to her from the latest issue of National Geographic — not just the articles and photo essays but the advertisements as well. A picture of a glowing butterfly on a sleeping man’s shoulder caught her eye.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“That’s an ad for a sleeping pill.”

“Oh. Are sleeping pills magic? I think they are because they make you sleep!”

“Hmmm…” (My typical response when I don’t know exactly what to say to her.)

She continued, “I think we should give Nizzy sleeping pills so she sleeps longer, especially during her nap times.”

“Hmmm…”

Kevin

We left Ayay with F’s parents so she could spend 5 days on their farm outside of Seattle.

5 days. Without me. She’s in Washington, while I am in Santa Barbara. Ahhhh!

I’m having separation anxiety, but apparently things have been farm-tastic with Ayay feeding goats, collecting chicken eggs, picking blueberries.  And there’s still time for Ayay to engage in some very necessary imaginary play.

F’s mom sent us the following story via email:

Cecilia is playing with three “My Little Ponies”.

“This is Roselina Petal,  this is Petal Flower Sparkle!”

“And who is this?”

“Kevin.”

Yup, everything is exactly right for Ayay on Fall City Farms.