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Needs versus wants

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Ok, I apologize in advance to any new mothers out there who are getting approximately 79 minutes of sleep in any one stretch at night. Maybe you should just skip this post altogether so I don’t annoy you 🙂

I spoke too soon yesterday… I don’t know if I overdid it during the jump rope/thruster/burpee/squat workout or the steroid taper is just affecting me the same way it did last time (feel awesome the first few days), but I had an awful night of pain which led to lack of sleep. My mom thinks it was the jump roping but I beg to differ. My jump riping resembles a toddler trying to just barely avoid stepping on a dead bug on the sidewalk. No double unders here, just doing enough to not trip over the rope. For years I skipped jumping rope all together because I looked A FOOL whenever I tried. I spent more time getting untangled from the rope than getting any sort of aerobic activity in.

Anyway, I know that no one really cares, but I need my sleep. I am seriously like a 2 year old in that respect. Sleep helps you regenerate your brain cells and recover both mentally and physically from the day. I know I read that somewhere. It has to be science, why else would it be so important for babies to get sleep?

Here’s the thing- Prednisone makes you wired. But not only was I amped up from the Prednisone, I was also in so much pain that I could not sleep. I finally fell asleep around 3am after watching two episodes of Real Housewives of New Jersey and eating 4th meal. Don’t judge- I don’t judge you for watching Duck Dynasty or The Bachelorette. I mean really, how is The Bachelorette still on? No one ever finds their “one true love” on that show?! And as for the food, well, I was hungry from burning so many calories writhing in pain. At least it wasn’t Taco Bell.

I couldn’t sleep in, but was really savoring crawling back into bed for a nap with Super Girl. We had the naps synchronized perfectly with Super Baby and this never happens because the kid is a sleep maniac. He still typically takes two naps a day, which means one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Super Girl’s comes sandwiched in the middle. If you have kids that aren’t super close together in age, you have probably encountered this form of house arrest several times. You can’t leave the house from 10am to 5pm. They should have just given Martha Stewart a baby and 3 year old as her punishment. Dated reference? Perhaps. I exaggerate somewhat, but you get my point.

Well, today the stars had aligned, which had me so excited in the hour leading up to what would be their simultaneous nap times. I was smug in fact. And of course, I was first in too much pain to relax and then, once the pain was under control, the Prednisone kept me from going to sleep. So although Super Baby rocked two hours, as per usual, and Super Girl is still asleep, 2.5 hours later, I am wide awake but utterly exhausted. And I don’t even have a 50 mile bike ride in the morning to show for it. Curses!

Sorry for the rant. At least I felt well enough yesterday to get in a killer workout, play with my kids, and take Super Dad to H&M for the first time. Super Baby was unimpressed with the car shirt, as evidenced by the photo below. It was neither a need nor a want.

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I also can’t complain because I felt well enough to have an awesome dinner with my super awesome neighbors. Seriously, it is like we moved to Pleasantville. I have never known so many awesome people in such a concentrated area. Really, they are so awesome that I have used the word awesome five times in this paragraph alone. It is something we have wanted for a long time, and we have finally found it.

So even though I want to be out there biking or running, all I really need is to feel better so I can be a good mom to my kids and wife to Super Dad. And I need my sleep of course. You mothers of newborns out there, if you have read this far without getting super frustrated with me, you will know what I’m talking about when that baby starts sleeping 🙂

PS- if you want to get a glimpse into a day in the life of me, Super Baby, Super Kid, and Super Dad, check out my Instagram handle: willrunforbiscuits (shocker). I typically will post workouts, photos of Super Baby wearing a Rapunzel wig, and the delicious and clean meals Super Dad creates for us during the week. Check it out if you want or need to. Although I honestly can’t think of a single sane, non stalkerish person who would need to follow my Instagram.

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ISO Endorphins

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If you follow me on Instagram – my handle may be really hard to remember: it’s willrunforbiscuits – then you may have noticed 1) no photos related to exercise and 2) everything seems really awesome in my world.  If you don’t follow me but you follow social medial in general, you probably know that most people seem to paint a picture that everything in there life is sunshine and puppies, PR’s in every race, babies that sleep 15 hours at night at 4 weeks old, pay raises, surprise giant bouquets of exotic flowers from significant others, and selfies.  I find it highly improbable that life is that perfect all the time.  People just want everyone else to think everything is hunky dory because really, who wants to be depressed by your screaming kid that just smeared bodily fluids on the wall?  Or maybe there is something missing any putting cute and happy pictures into the universe makes life better for the time being.

I know this isn’t really related to running, or triathlon training, but I’m going to connect the dots soon.  For the last week, I have not been able to work out.  No running (that makes three weeks now), no cycling, no swimming, no lifting, nothing.  Remember that leg thing that has been nagging me for a while that I self-diagnosed as compartment syndrome?  Wrong, it isn’t compartment syndrome.  I jacked up my back somehow.  I really have no clue how I did it.  I didn’t slip, trip, or fall.  I didn’t lift anything heavy other than one of my giant children or 50 pound dogs.  It just sort of happened over the last several weeks.  Really, since before my triathlon in July.  But I thought it was due to tight shoes or something.  In retrospect, I should have known it was my back, because when you herniate a disc at a certain point in your low back, it pretty much ONLY causes leg and foot symptoms. That’s it.  No back pain.  

I mentioned what was going on when I talked to my former boss last week (we’ll call her Jim).  It’s interesting because we joke that she is either future me or I am pre-millenium Jim.  When Jim was my age, she had two small kids.  Then she herniated a disc in her back and ended up having surgery.  Now she has two awesome teenageers and we have a lot more in common which i won’t get into, because I only overshare about myself, Super Dad, and the Super Kids.  Jim wanted to know how I was doing because she noticed that over the weekend I posted a lot of awesome, super happy photos on instagram from a bachelorette party I went to.  Then when I got back I posted a bunch of happy photos of Super Baby and Super Kid.  No Facebook updates to the effect of “Wow, my leg hurts. Still not running.  Really getting depressed.” I think Jim knew that something was still up, so she just wanted to check in on me, which I so appreciate.  Because it’s time I really check in on myself.

Running, exercising, pick your poison, has got to be one of the best anti-depressants out there.  I think most people involved in some form of fitness know that exercise makes you happy.  It’s science.  You’re probably familiar with the term “runner’s high,” which refers to the euphoric feeling one sometimes gets when exercising. Researchers have found that  heavy weights or training that incorporates sprinting or other anaerobic exertion produce endorphins. This is because when your body crosses over from an aerobic state to an anaerobic state, it’s suddenly operating without enough oxygen to satisfy the muscles and cells screaming out for it. This is when the “runner’s high” occurs.  This explains why I always feel best when I run so hard that I want to vomit. 

Since I have not been able to tap into any natural endorpins, my mental state has been less than awesome.  Not just because my body doesn’t feel right, but because I really felt like I was getting on the right track with my tri training.  I was proud of my cycling, my newfound commitment to the pool, and just being able to get some sort of schedule worked out that accommodated our family.  Now, I know it’s only been a week, but I naturally go to this place of “what if I need surgery?” and “what if I’m not supposed to bike anymore, or run?” or “what is nothing helps the numbness and burning in my leg and foot go away?” 

I entered what I consider the four stages of grieving: 1) ignorance- pretend you will be running again in a matter of days. 2) drinking and eating a lot of processed foods to deal with fact that ignorance isn’t working. 3) purging processed foods from house because stage 2 has made me feel totally gross. 4) being a bad friend.

I’m a bad friend because I don’t want to know how fast you are running, what upcoming triathlon you are sure to crush, how many miles you swam after working 9 hours and making homemade baby food, how ripped you are now that you can work out three hours a day and don’t eat any sugar or dairy or carbs, or how it’s soooo crazy that you never get hurt despite running 60 miles a week.  I should be supportive but right now, I don’t have enough endorphins to get me through the day without despairing that my hard work has been for nought.  That I am on my way to becoming a decrepit, unathletic middle-aged woman who will be limited to water aerobics and tai chi.  Not that those things aren’t cool.  But I want to SWEAT.  I want to compete.  I don’t want to be in this place, and so if I’m not commenting on Instagram or Facebook about what a badass runner you are and how you inspire me (because you really do), please don’t be angry with me.  I need more endorphins.  And I need my leg back. 

A first time for everything

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When you become an athlete, you start measuring your progress in a sport by firsts.  Like, the first time I ran one mile at age 8.  I did not consider myself an athlete at that point.  I was in ballet and was terrible at it.  I think I had done a season of ice skating.  Not pretty. I was a green belt in tae kwon do, and was pretty decent because I was strong husky, which explains why I was terrible at ballet, besides the lack of practice.  S I could break wooden boards and knock people over.  As for running, I was forced to do that as part of PE class.  I was also forced to do sit-ups, which were as difficult then as they are now.  You see, I have what I have dubbed “Cabbage Patch Abs.”  I have a nice big hard head and a nice soft midsection like a Cabbage Patch Kid doll.  It’s genetics, I swear.  Ok, it’s probably my diet, but I’m working on it.

Eventually, I got really into swimming when we moved to Florida.  We also ran a lot as part of our cross training.  I ran my first 5k at age 10, ran my first 5k under 24 minutes at age 12, and did my first 10k at age 13.  With swimming, it went from “oh I can swim across the pool now mommy!” to “I just schooled a bunch of older girls at practice ” And that’s how it went for years and years.  First time conquering 10×1000’s in one workout, first time I beat that girl who has been dominating for the past three years, first time I did an open water swim without getting stung by jellyfish.  After college, I began running more so it went in this progression: first time running a half marathon, first time running a marathon where bands are playing- thereby annoying me because I can’t hear my book on tape.  First time  having to walk during a marathon- ugh.   First time doing Yasso’s 800’s.   *If you don’t know what those are, good.  You probably don’t want to know.  They hurt.  * First time running races while pregnant.  It’s actually pretty liberating because there’s no pressure.  If you are 27 weeks pregnant and running a 10k, it’s accomplishment enough if you can make it through the whole race without having to use one of the non-existent porta john’s.

The past month has been chock full of firsts, which is a huge confidence booster at this stage of life.  When you’re blank years old, you don’t experience a lot of firsts, besides watching your kids accomplish firsts or getting your first minivan.  Obviously, there was my first triathlon in July.  But what I am most proud of is this past week’s firsts.  As you may recall, I am not running right now because of my suspected compartment syndrome.  I am still having symptoms and putting off going to a doctor, because if I don’t get a diagnosis then there’s not anything actually wrong with me.  Right?  I decided to commit myself to strengthening my swimming and cycling.  Last Thursday night I did a tough one hour spin class then went straight into the pool for a 2,000 swim workout.  I got out thinking, “Wow, I really have only two speeds: slower than my 10 year old self, and slower than my 11 year old self. ”  I was really really down on myself.  But then I realized it is utterly ridiculous to compare myself to a version of me from that many years ago.  Could I drive a car when I was 10?  Could I afford to buy a car when I was 10? Could I run a marathon when I was 11?  Could I go to a bar and order a Bloody Mary when I was 11?  No way, so being blank years old is really awesome.  Who cares if I was a much better swimmer when I was pre-pubescent?  Plus, I swam like 20 hours a week back then.  At the rate I have been going, I log about 20 hours in the pool per year.  So I am getting a pretty good return on my investment.

I stopped having a pity party after I got a Drumstick in my system, and the next day, I accomplished a first (since 2002)- I did another pool workout within 24 hours of the last one.  Super Girl was having her private swim lesson.  She is pretty much kicking butt at swimming, and I in turn am kicking myself for not getting her private lessons earlier, because winter is coming (if you don’t watch Game of Thrones, sorry for the obscure reference).  That gave me a good thirty minutes to do a quick no-pressure swim.  I borrowed some hand paddles and cranked out 4×500’s.  I didn’t time myself, because really, was I going to get faster in one day?  I felt so invigorated and strong afterwards, which reminded me why I am doing this.  I want to set an example for Super Girl and Super Baby.  You don’t just quit because things kinda suck one day.  The next day can be pretty awesome.

On Sunday, I woke up early to meet my new tri club for a long ride.  On the club calendar, it said that there is a 50 mile and 33 mile option.  I roll up with my little female frame road bike and find that there are 6 guys there, all with souped up tri bikes, all who have completed at least one Ironman.   They had no intention of doing only 33 miles. A few of the guys were typically ride in the A group, which is 22+ mph.  Oh kill me now.  I texted my sister-in-law because I was terrified.  I didn’t want to hold anybody up, but I also didn’t want to get stranded in another county rolling around in a ditch with extreme leg cramps.  I thought I should just pack it in and go to two spin classes later in the day.  How I would accomplish that didn’t matter.  I just could not think straight.  One of the men, a gentle giant who I will call Angel Gabriel, assured me that we would only be going around 17mph. Ok I can handle that, I thought.  Actually, I had no clue if this was possible, as I had never ridden more than 33 miles and I am pretty sure I averaged about 18mph on the 18 mile bike portion of my triathlon.  I decided to just suck it up and head out with the big boys.

I can assure you we did not average only 17mph.  The first half of the ride was somewhere around 20 mph.  There were flats where we had no tailwind but were going 25mph.  I was going as fast as humanly possible, which could not bode well for miles 25-50.  Plus, I was in the middle.  There were actually two guys behind me about 1/4 mile, and then four guys about 1/4 mile ahead of me.  Do you know what that means?  I didn’t have anyone to draft off of.  The guys ahead of me took turns pulling each other, and I tried so hard to catch up so they could pull me to, but no dice.

We stopped at miles 20, 30, and 40 to regroup. One of the guys, whose wife is also a saint, was our “team car, ” and she just hovered around.  She opened her trunk at stops and it was full of water, gatorade, pound cake, bananas, and oranges.  I almost made out with her.  Twice.  At the 30 mile stop, I was starting to get the chills and shakes.  I chugged an entire gatorade and am pretty sure I inhaled two pieces of pound cake.  I contemplated hopping in the saint’s car and just riding around for the next hour, handing out drinks to the men and chatting about life.  But I rode 33 miles the week before, and didn’t feel particularly winded afterward, so what’s another 20 miles?

When we stopped at mile 40, everyone (except for me) thought it would be a good idea to go a different way, so we could get more hill work and tack on another 4 miles.  Huh?  I did not sign up for this.  But I had no idea where we were, and I couldn’t even form complete sentences, so I just went with it.  By mile 45, I noticed we were keeping about a 19mph pace even with the hills.  That meant only 30 more minutes! I finally started to mentally break through my fear and then I realized what I good time I’d had.  Angel Gabriel talked me through every push and he assured me I was doing great.  When I told him it would be my longest ride by 20 miles, he looked so shocked I thought he was going to fall off his bike.  I guess I did alright hanging with the big boys.  I conquered my fear of the unknown, and I got a sweet tan while I was at it.

Another first came after the ride.  I DID NOT TAKE A NAP on a Sunday.  Yes, that is not a typo.  I felt so bad about leaving Super Dad with the kids for over four hours, because I I didn’t realize that even if 50-ish mile should take about 3 hours on a trainer, we would be taking three longer stops for fuel.  Plus there are these little things called stop lights and signs which are minor but frequent nuisances when you live anywhere other than Antarctica.  Oops, duh.  By the time I got home, Super Girl was ready take a nap and of course, Super Baby had just risen from a marathon morning nap session, so I decided to forego my precious Sunday nap in order to give Super Dad a major break.   I didn’t give him enough of a break to account for my very long absence in the morning, but parenting isn’t always going to equal out.  Hmmm, maybe I can still cash in some points from carrying two babies to term and being in labor for a few days? No?

The other first I must report is that Super Baby finally walked!

Just kidding, he still has no interest in walking and I have no issues with this.  When Super Girl was a baby, we I thought it was critical that she walked by one year old.  Then when she started walking at 15 months, I was like “can you please stop moving?  For like three seconds?”  Super Baby is very curious and he loves to crawl around and cruise, but walking is not on his agenda.  I am thinking he will just take off running at 15 months but if not, I won’t sweat it because he is developmentally on track in every other area and babies who crawl a long time are supposed to be super smart. I don’t know where I read it but it was on the internet so it’s definitely not science.

Did you have any firsts this week, month, or year?  Do you have any first goals that you have set for yourself?  How many of you have rockstar spouses who will drive around in a Durango supplying snacks for your tri club all morning when he or she could be watching tv or getting a massage- or better yet, sleeping in?  Will your spouse watch your kids for four hours while you get super sweaty, then listen to you go on and on about the ride all afternoon, much like he endures listening to you ramble about every other form of exercise you perform on a daily basis? Or cook delicious  meals for you several times a week because you are pretty much useless in the kitchen?  Probably not many, but if you have such a spouse, consider yourself lucky, or blessed, depending on your religious preferences.  And if you are a single parent who can train for tris or marathons and cook and clean for your kid(s), well, then you are 100 times more amazing than me and Super Dad put together.  And you over there, if you have no spouse or kids and you do all of this for yourself, you’re a rockstar too.  Because if you are putting time into bettering yourself for yourself, then that’s awesome.  When I had no Super Dad or Super kids around, I ate a whole lot of fast food, drank a whole lot of wine, and pretty much just ran so I could burn off the calories I ate and drank.   I didn’t run for myself.   But now I do, and that’s a first.

I suck at yoga…

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I also suck at anything involving balance. For instance, a balanced diet, balancing my checkbook, balancing home life versus work life (I am not entirely to blame for this one, as Super Dad and I work at the same place), balancing on my road bike well enough to merely lift a hand to signal to my other cyclists that there is a pile of glass or a pothole they should avoid, and the biggest balance issue facing most runner/triathlete moms: how do I balance my bizarre exercise needs with my family’s schedule? I don’t want our family schedule to revolve 100% around me- 75% would suffice- but I also want us to have some flexibility to enjoy the pool or go out to dinner just because.

DISCLAIMER: This is a REALLY, REALLY, obnoxiously long post. It’s not for the faint of heart. I have 7 months worth of venting to do, so grab some Nuun hydration and read on if you like.

Ok, let’s back this train up. When willrunforbiscuits started, I was all about running. Otherwise the blog name wouldn’t make much sense. I have been all about running pretty much since I graduated from college and decided I would be done with swimming FOREVER. I was that burned out on the sport. I dabbled in some kickboxing and pilates, but realized that my diet of biscuits and gelato were probably better suited to fuel a long distance runner. Cue five marathons, zero swimming, zero triathlons, zero cycling.

I made it a goal to run a marathon between each baby. After Super Girl (formerly known as Super Baby) was born, I ran the Kiawah Marathon in 2010. But then I had the shoulder surgeries mentioned in previous blog posts, which basically left me in the shape I was in freshman year when I quit swimming for 6 months. Round, floppy, and out of breath. I was no good at balancing recovering from my surgeries with finding appropriate but challenging workouts, so I just gave up.

I finally started getting back into shape with the help of my beloved Athletic Conditioning class at the Y. Those were my people. Some of my closest friends that I have developed over the past several years. Check them out, they are a good-looking group.

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Finally, I was ready to start training for “something.” I hit the greenway with my friend Kevin for long runs, and he would join me for interval work on the indoor track at the Y. I would push Super Girl around in her jogging stroller, which definitely helps gain strength and speed. I finally felt like I had the balance thing down. You can be a mom to one kid and still find the time to train distance.

Then I got pregnant with the new Super Baby, and I kept running. All the books I read about exercising while pregnant were totally common sense. “If you have been active, then it’s okay to stay active.” And “listen to your body.” What does that mean???? I need real answers. I was very bad at balancing logic and emotion during early pregnancy. The basic takeaway from everything I read is this: If you are at least moderately in shape and NOT an idiot, then just keep doing what you’re doing, keeping your heartrate in check and taking stock of any other warning signs like cramping, chills, obvious signs of dehydration, etc. If you have jogged one 5k before, probably not a good idea to sign up for you first Marathon, set to take place when you are 34 weeks pregnant. Having already been doing long runs upwards of 9 miles when I got pregnant, I went ahead and signed up for a half marathon which I completed in January 2012, when I was 15 weeks pregnant. It was a really pleasant race because I was able to balance my baby’s safety against my desire to be the fastest pregnant runner out there. I ran a 5k at 24 weeks and a 10k at 28 weeks. It is fair to say that by the end, I had gotten really good at balancing my fluid input/output because there are usually no porta johns on a 3-6 mile course. Yikes!

After new Super Baby came along, surrounded by much drama that I would talk about if this were yet another birth story blog, I initially dove back into the group exercise thing that I so loved. I was unable to balance my desire to train for another marathon with my desire to hang out with my friends and go to classes which I knew would push me and leave my on the edge of vomitus, just the way I like it. So I fell into a bit of a rut.

I ran a few local races at the end of 2012, with my eye on a marathon in 2013.

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But then we moved to Raleigh. So the months of late December to late February of this year are a total blur of boxes, tears, more boxes, house hunting, eating garbage (not literally), and not running. No balance could be achieved in that phase of my life. And quite frankly, it has taken about four months to get back on track.

I really wanted to find balance in my workout regimen upon moving. As I have mentioned a thousand times, I had such a great group of instructors and friends at the YMCA in Charlotte. I wanted to try to replicate that here. I toured probably 6 different gyms. I was like Goldilocks. This gym was too expensive. This gym was too dingy. This gym too far, this gym too boring.

So I decided that instead of trying to achieve in Raleigh what I had in Charlotte, I would create something new. Like a Phoenix rises from the ashes, so too did my new training goal. I decided to sign up for a triathlon. It is definitely a symbol of balance- having to balance your time to train for three different disciplines. My goal race is the White Lake Olympic Distance Tri in September. Before that race, I have a sprint distance- the Triangle Triathlon- this weekend! And I really have no idea what I am doing or what to expect, so it won’t be that different from becoming a mother.

In order to get in triathlon shape, I have spent less time in group exercise classes and taken more initiative to find group runs, go out on long morning runs before my kids get up (which I never would have done before), find group cycle rides, and swim just to get my shoulders stronger and hopefully wake up some muscle memory that’s been covered in cobwebs for the past 11 years. I have finally been able to strike a balance in all the three disciplines, and I am actually having a lot of fun doing it. The issue is just figuring which workouts to do in the morning before Super Girl and Super Baby wake, which to do at lunch (too much work involved in getting re-coiffed for work) and which to do after work, as that calls into play either taking the kids to the Y or SuperDad piling up the parenting points so I can go on a bike ride after work. We haven’t quite figured out how to make it work, and we have to take it on a week-by-week basis, which is difficult.

Raleigh Trail Runners at Umstead Park. They look fast.

Raleigh Trail Runners at Umstead Park. They look fast.

Which leads to the final straw that led me back into the blogosphere. My family may be done with 2 kids and 3 dogs, but we may expand- ya never know, we could add a guinea pig to the mix. Whatever size our family ends up being, we will have more and more commitments as our kids get older. Super Girl is in gymnastics and will likely start ballet and music lessons in the next year. Super Baby will probably be entering eating competitions so we need to balance those commitments into our family schedule. My exercise also needs to be balanced out against my family’s needs.

Last night, I planned out this week’s workouts. I planned to do an easy steady-stead 7 mile run before work. Well, off went the buzzer this morning, and I said “let’s get serious iPhone, you know I’m not getting out of this bed.” End of discussion, no agonizing, just went straight back to dreaming about Robin Thicke.

The result of this 100% selfish decision was that I completely threw off our family plan for the day. The morning routine went fine, as I would have been back from my run and showering at the same time I ended up rising. Because we are so earth-conscious, Super Dad and I decided to carpool. Then I would pick up Super Baby and take him to the Y while Super Dad took Super Kid to gymnastics. After my quick little swim and run, I would swing by to get Super Girl from gymnastics. Wrong. As I checked my phone post swim and run, I notice that Super Dad has called and sent an urgent text, something to the effect of “my darling wife, I forgot to remind you that my car is at home because we carpooled to work. As such, our beloved daughter is stranded at daycare, I am stranded at work, and she will not be able to get to the gymnastics class she was so looking forward to. In no way are you to blame, but I wanted to let you know that I will get this taken care of in the approximately 6 minutes before daycare closes. Love Always, Super Dad.” As you can imagine, the text was not quite so polite. Oops, mommy messed up. No really, mommy threw off our family’s balance today in a big big way. One that inconvenienced many people, including Super Daddy, Super Uncle and Super Neighbor, who let Super Girl borrow a leotard. When I got home, Super Girl had a MAJOR attitude. Our conversation:

SG: That was NOT COOL mommy! You don’t leave Daddy at his office. It’s not cool to leave people at their offices. He was lonely.

Me: I’m sorry, I messed up.

SG: Yeah, you did. Now Daddy and I are going inside, but you can stay out here with Super Baby.

…proceeds to lock me out of the house. [end scene]

Moral of the story: if you are going to be lazy, which is warranted every now and then (unless you are Shalane Flanagan and you’re trying to win Olympic Medals) try not to upset your whole family. I need to work on balancing my obligations to my family with my training. Anyone else have trouble with this balancing act?