On Derailment and Bees

I tell you what, I never thought the thing to break my 22-week workout streak would be something stupid like the Pima County Fair.

The Guardians of the Children (my motorcycle organization, because we can’t say “club”) had a booth at the fair. So for the duration of the fair, I spent most of the time I wasn’t at work or sleeping at the fair, or fetching more candy/prizes to give out to kids at the fair. Suffice it to say, working out/PBResolution/Yoga all kind of fell by the wayside. And man, I was feeling it. After the second or third yoga-free day, I felt very tight all over my body, and I was trying to stretch it out a bit in the booth at the fair.

“No yoga in the booth!” one of the guys teased me, kicking the bottom of the chair I was attempting to do chair yoga in.

“Maybe you should do yoga in the booth! It might chill you out!” I countered.

I snuck in little bits of yoga when and where I could (mostly behind the curtain that ran behind our booth where nobody could see me except other vendors who were also back there eating or whatever), but I didn’t manage to get in a good, solid practice until yesterday morning. Yesterday was the last day of the fair. And I’m now about ten days behind where I had planned to be at this point with my second round of PBResolution.

Today is 4/29. You’ll note that I’ve only marked off workouts through 4/19. I just did “4/19” this morning. Oops.

There’s a lesson in this, I think. Sometimes life gets crazy. Sometimes you break your 22 week streak. Sometimes yoga happens only in 5 minute increments where and when you can squeeze it in (motorcycle yoga, anyone?).

It’s a pause, not a giving up. A temporary sidelining rather than a failure. Just because I stopped for ten days doesn’t mean I gave up and stopped forever. And yes, I’m all about getting up early to get it in when I can, but also there comes a point when you have to choose between getting up early and getting enough sleep to get you through what you gotta do, and I spent ten days on the wrong side of that line and had to choose. I chose sleep, I’m not ashamed to say.

But you may be wondering where the bees enter into all this. I promised bees in the title of this post, and I shall not disappoint you here.

I rode my motorcycle to work several days last week, and I think my riding skill improved tremendously because of it (because if you can ride in rush-hour traffic through midtown, you can ride anywhere, I think). But I had a special little adventure during my commute home on Friday.

Less than a mile after I left work, I noticed some bugs swirling around in the lane up ahead. I thought they were flies or something. I was in the right turn lane and needed to turn right, so I couldn’t really change lanes/swerve to avoid them. I was like, “Well, this is gonna be gross, but whatever.” It was not as “whatever” as I could have hoped. It was, in fact, a smallish swarm of bees.

Thanks to the windscreen on my bike, my torso was mostly spared. I did, however, have several bees pinging off my visor, arms, and legs. And I still didn’t realize they were bees and not flies until one of them stung me right on the back of my throttle hand and I looked down at it, because it was then stuck there. Well crap, these are bees! was about what I was thinking.

Made it around the corner and found a safe place to pull over, and managed to safely remove bee and stinger from my hand. Mind you, this was the first time I’d been stung by a bee in Arizona, and just a few days earlier we’d been having a discussion in the pharmacy where I work about how you can be allergic to bees in one region of the country but not another. I knew I wasn’t allergic to Oregon bees (thanks to having stepped on an in-ground nest at age 12 and being stung over 50 times in probably less than a minute), but I hadn’t tested my luck yet with Arizona bees. So I sat there by the side of the road for a minute or two just to make sure I wasn’t about to stop breathing or anything, and sort of tested how my right hand was working, because that’s kind of important when you’re on a motorcycle.

After a few minutes, I determined I was probably okay to ride, but decided to head straight home rather than make the stops I had planned to make on the way… just in case.

I shared this little story with my biker friends, and the general consensus is that I get some street cred for having ridden through a swarm of bees and come away relatively unscathed. Three days later, I still have a little red spot on the back of my hand that is a little bit itchy, but no lasting harm that I can tell. Also, I have been called the Bee Queen by more than one fellow rider. (Please note: I refuse to change my road name to “Bee Queen”. It will not happen.) I was hoping there was some sort of merit badge or something, but no… alas.

Anyway, back to the routine as normal this week, and I’m planning to finish up round two of PBResolution at a fairly steady pace from here on out. The delay will push me out until about May 20th to complete round two, but that’s okay. Temporarily down, but not out!

But I do think I need to look for a bee-related pin for my cut…

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