A good mix

Looking at the recent downhill skiing results results at the Kandahar and the nationalities represented on the podim - first Romed Baumann, Austrian, second Alexis Pinturault, French - I started having dreams of a brilliant skiing career for Malo (OK, this is a big lie : there is no way,  I want sports to be anything but a game for Malo for now - if he llater wants to make something more serious of it, it'll be his choice, not mine. But I need an introduction, so did not mind the lie).

Good thing then that we took him for his first skiing experience just over a week ago (second one really, but he was standing on his dad's skis the first time round, do it does not really count).

Well, if he liked in in this weather, the chance is he will like it always. The fog grew thicker and thicker as we were driving there and to say the visibility was limited when we finally parked would be a massive understatement.

Mind you, at least, it was cold, but not too cold. Not -30°C cold like what we've been having since pretty much the day following our skiing trip (and this is France, not Canada, therefore -30°C for the best part of 2 weeks - and counting - is almost unheard of... 470 people have died in Europe because of the cold since it started). Goven that 1. if I had to chose one or the other to experience with skiing, I would go for the fog anytime and 2.I am the one chosing for Malo these days, it was just as well it was foggy but not artic-cold.

I guess Malo's parents were definitely as excited much, much more excited than the star of the day himself that he was at last on skis. I mean, at 2 years and 5 months, it was about time, wasn't it? I am just kidding here, but, mind you, checking the average age - three? three and a half at the most? - of the skiers on the runs, in this tiny "resort" (if 2 runs constitute a resort), you would be forgiven to think all the parents take their skiing pretty seriously here and want to make sure they have indeed fathered / mothered the next generation's Hermann Maier or Lindsay Vonn.

I sacrified myself by letting Martin start with Malo...

 

... then could not help it and after 2-3 "runs" (the bottom of them really... we did not even take the "magic carpet") asked to swap, which was only a partial success since Malo was in one of his "no, not Maman, Papa" days, by which he makes very clear he is not necessarily 100%- happy wityh the baby sister situation. 

Truth be told, the best part of the day, if you were to ask the key man, was without a doubt the biscuit-break that followed the skiing. 

As for me, well, the day was used as undeniable evidence that the toughest bit about skiing while 7-month pregnant is ... putting one's skiing boots on.

It is bad, but it could be worse (just).

I am feeling a bit depressed today. OK, truth be told, I am feeling super down, right at the very bottom of a big, deep, dark, hole.

Why? Because I have not run for a whole 10 days. And because I am ill, which means the 10 days will turn into more. How many more, I just don't want to know, since, see above, I am already at the bottom of my hole.

What happened? Well, it all started well: we got a lot of snow in Annecy. First, it was all good news: we went running in powder snow, we went cross-country skiing, we even ran to watch other cross-country-skiing, with Malo in the Chariot.

Then it all got bad.

The weather got warmer, the snow melted, the weather got colder again, the melted snow turned into ice. Which means that for an entire week it was just not possible to run on the pavement with Malo, because it was so slippery, and not possible either to take him along on our normal off road routes, which had become too bumpy because of the churned icy snow. To make things worse, the poor guy had caught a nasty throat infection. And I may be a dedicated runner, but, for my sins, I am even more of a mother hen, so no running in the cold for us!

I thought things would get better over the weekend. It should have: on Saturday we got a baby-sitter to look after Malo for the morning while we went cross-country skiing (did I mention we're really getting into this cross-country skiing thing?). All started well:
Beautiful day, on one of my favourite spots in Haute Savoie: check.
Not too many people (did I also mention I am anti-social, especially when in the outdoors?): check.
Having fun doing sports with my husband (although, man, do I hate it he is so much faster than me): check.

Problem is, sometimes during the week, I had managed to catch Malo's throat infection. As a result, I was weak, I was slow, I was struggling. I did not even manage to look good on the only photo we took of our outing, although I may just decide this is due to Martin's absence of photographic skills that day: bad for his ego, but so much better for mine.

But the worst was to come. On our way up there, my ears had started feeling really painful, and they got worse on the way back down, resulting in a sleepless night, and a Sunday feeling miserable, and of course not being able to exercise.

To cut a long story short, and as if the above was not enough, this has now worsened into a sinus and tooth infection. Barely walking around in the flat sends horribly painful vibrations on the side of my face, so I don't even want to think about running. Or rather I do think about it (a lot), but that's the only thing I can do.

So here I was until a couple of hours ago, feeling very, very sorry for myself.

Then I went to the post office. This in itself is another very sad story, because I have had to send back my beloved Polar back to the manufacturer (how will I now know how many miles and elevation I do when running? - Oh wait, I cannot run, can I?).

The post office lady was looking bored and obese. Then she started talking, and it became clear she was also a sure candidate for throat cancer because of heavy smoking. Which suddenly made me - me with my bruises, my s*** up ligaments, my throat, sinus and tooth infections - feel suddenly pretty healthy. Oh, and make it lucky, too.

Good news, I am injured!

Little by little, I am getting back to training. Not as much as I used to, not the way I used to, but it is still training. The proof of the pudding: I am injured.

And in some ways, this feels good.

It is not like I stopped exercising when pregnant. In fact, my last run was only 3 days before I gave birth - no specific correlation here, the time had just come! And I even diversified my sports portfolio when expecting, going for instance swimming in the lake days in days out for the last trimestre. But one thing I could not/did not want to do while baking the little one was to get myself in the red. In other words, to push the limits. And man, did I miss it!

Malo's birth late August was also followed by a couple of months of relative inactivity: I went walking, and swimming as soon as I could, but running had to wait a little longer: the emergency C-section involved among other sweet things the gyn-obs playing butcher with my transverse abs, and running was not what he and the midwife had in mind when talking about recovery.

Sure, the silver lining of my being reasonnable was that I did not get injured for some whole 12 months... But, no matter how you slice it, you'll have to admit: reasonnable IS boring.

Now, things are slowly but surely falling back in place (although what would I give to get my super flat tummy back!): I am back into running, spinning, alpine and cross-country skiing, and bouldering at the gym on the rare days the Petite Boule is not under my care.


As a result, my ankle, still stiff from an operation 3 years ago., does not feel too good again. This bad news, but then, as I normally only feel it when I am running above a certain pace or past a certain time, I guess it means I can call myself a runner again, and surely that's good news, right?

I also fell while cross country skiing, stretching the knee ligaments. Bad, but as 1. it means I got to play, and 2. it does not hurt too much unless I fall again or sit on my knees while playing with Malo, it is worth the pain, because, let's face it, pain makes you feel alive, don't you think?

Oh, and I also managed to slip on an icy patch while running, stretching a finger and bruising my entire side, had a close encounter with one of the bouldering gym's holds, resulting in yet another bump and bruise, meaning that anybody who does not know Martin could think I live with a wife beater. But who cares: when I am not wearing a running or skiing outfit, you'll find me in jeans spotted with Malo's mess, so the bruises are well hidden anyway. Oh, and they make me look tough, and I like tough.

So it is all good really: my body starts being a mess again, and, as long as the mess stays remotely under control, it means my spirits are sky-high!

We have been busy

I may not have been that diligent in keeping this blog updated in the last few months, but it does not mean I was doing nothing of my days. Actually, the very fact I have been busy could even be the perfect excuse for not being better at being in touch.

Busy doing what, I can hear some of you wondering (although may I say that I find it a bit mean coming from friends). And, to an extent, I would agree: I mean, it is not like I am still working in banking, for crying out loud. Actually, it is not like I am working, full stop. Still, the past few months have been busy, as, and you may have guessed that my now, we did not exactly stop our little adventures with the news of the imminent arrival of the Petite Boule.

So here is a quick account of the last 8 months, since we found out our team would soon expand to three (8 months summarized in a post, now that’s blog-efficiency… very unlike me).

Month 1 and… # 1 ski outing of the season
In case you are wondering: the fact you don’t see my bump has nothing to do with the fog. In fact, it will stay very discreet for another few months (and I won’t be complaining). So discreet here that, at the very moment this photo was taken, I had actually still no idea my life was about to change forever (that may sound a bit melodramatic, but I stick to it).

Month 2 and… a 2-person team effort on race day
The Trail Blanc was my first (and actually only) race with my new partner. Just keep it for yourself though: not sure where the rules stand regarding getting help from non-race-registered partners, and would not want to be disqualified…

Month 3 and… 3 days of snow shoeing and cross-country skiing in the south of Jura
Well, three days, and, as the photo may give away, nights too, since early darkness combined with a snow storm made our arrival to the refuge a bit more eventful than planned.

Month 4 and… a 4 hour ski tour 4 hours of back-country skiing, and some pretty cool powder
I did not thank Petite Boule for his lack of cooperation on the way up, but at least the few kilos I had gained may have made me a bit faster on the way down, and made me feel like the Free Riding Queen.

Month 5: 5 sports a day…
“5 sports a day keeps boredom at bay” could have been that month’s motto. Skiing, running, hiking, climbing, cycling, we did it all! So far, the Petite Boule has not shown any displeasure at practicing any of them, so we still have good hopes he will turn out to be a climber, runner, cyclist or skier, or preferably all of the above.

Month 6 - Not quite 6 hours on the bike (but it was still fun!)
OK, so feeling your belly getting in the way of your knees while pushing on the pedals is not super fun, but the ride itself was, anyway. I managed to fall, with my feet still clipped in the pedals and while at a stop, which is so far the only evidence of pregnant women losing their sense of balance I have experienced (and according to Martin more a clear sign that I am a d*** with clips).

Oh, and have you noticed: since I am expecting a boy, I have a blue bike… cute, hey?

Month 7 and… a 7 hour-hike
And I really mean 7 hours of actual walking (not including my numerous pit stops. I am pregnant after all). Something to do with us looking over the map a bit too quickly and somehow managing to miss the presence of 2 deep valleys on our itinerary while doing so). Oh well, at least, if I need to walk non-stop in order to make sure Petite Boule falls asleep after he is born, I will know why…

Month 8 and… 8 x 100m (and a bit) of elevation gain
Not the longest hike we did in my eighth month, and since the weather was not perfect, not the most scenic photo, but the other hikes had too much elevation gain to feature in Month 8. That hike became something of a small adventure thanks to the massive storm experienced the previous night, which made a long traverse rather slippery, to say the least. Petite Boule and I negotiated the mud pretty well, which is more than can be said of Martin. Anybody still wants to comment about pregnant women’s loss of balance?

Month 9 and ???
As for the 9th month, starting in less than two weeks, which kind of “9” stuff will it entail? I leave it to you to guess… and am expecting a lot of educated or not-so-educated guesses in the Comments page! The winner will be receive a voucher for (let be generous) a full weekend of baby sitting. Now, somehow, I am not convinced this was the best way of ensuring a record participation…