#i could try doing core/abs only exercises...?!?! somehow?!?!?

[spadefish]

man i managed to injure/damage my shoulder/back AND one of my legs, effectively preventing me from doing ANY working out whatsoever

[7wanderingpaws]

Always, yours (2)

(gif not mine) - THIS Baek tho..... ㅠ

Warnings: none

Word count: 6.5K

Tags: @geniusloey​ (please let me know if you want to be un/tagged!)

❤ Enjoy! Please let me know your thoughts! ^^ Have a good start of the week!❤

Also, the new apartment!

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Masterlist / story masterlist

<-- Previous - Next -->

Second - My name is Lee Junho and I will be your trainer

You stood at the entrance of the gym, your palms somehow clammy. You didn’t realize putting on leggings would look this bad. Tears welled up in your eyes when Sukyeong took your hand to yank you inside.

“C’mon, don’t be ridiculous,” she whispered to you and when she managed to pull you inside, she pressed her fisted hand against your back, making you walk ahead. “You look great! You don’t even look like you’ve been pregnant,” she hissed in your ear.

Arguable, you thought right away but decided not to be any more negative. The only good point was you were able to leave home without the triplets. Baekhyun, just as promised, was home by six so you didn’t have to worry about leaving them at the baby corner (it was baby safe, you went to check the place out).

Slightly bowing to the other girls as you walked past, most of them your age or older, you decided to be in the back, far away from the teaching lady. You imagined her being young, and very fit. Her black hair would be shiny and she would have make-up to look perfect. A great way to ruin one’s self-esteem such as yours.

However, a single nudge from Sukyeong and your non-existent self-esteem basically vanished into thin air. Instead, anxiety with a sprinkle of bewitchedness, hit you for in walked a handsome male, around Baekhyun's age, with eyes like that of a cat's; narrow and sharp, his features leveled, nose straight with a pair of plump lips. He had longer dark hair that fell over his forehead in fluffy waves.

“Good evening, ladies!” he announced himself, clapping twice to gain everyone's attention. He didn't have to do it though; more than half of the ladies were already salivating over him, including your best friend. When the trainer saw wide eyes on him, he let out a boyish chuckle and this time, you couldn't escape the charm either. He was incredibly handsome. “My name is Lee Junho and I will be your trainer! I have some experience with working out,” he joked and, of course, everyone laughed louder than it was necessary. His toned chest and arms spoke volumes about his experience. “Please, let me know in advance if there are any injuries you have so that I can adjust the exercises to you accordingly. Do you have any questions?” He looked around with interest, his eyes skimming through any possible curious hand.

“Should I tell him that I'm…. you know,” you mumbled to Sukyeong but before you could finish your sentence, you shook your head, stopping yourself. It will be alright, you thought. As always, you made sure to feed the triplets properly and pump your breasts, so you expected no problems with the excessive breast milk leaking over your t-shirt this time.

Just like that, you found yourself jumping up and down as the exercise started. Lee Junho seemed to be a great professional, always adjusting everyone's postures to ensure full effectiveness. With the help of the deafening pop music, everything seemed suddenly possible. Until it came to you and until he lingered more by your side than the rest of the girls.

It was to be expected, but you still felt stupid. You couldn't do the push-ups like all the other girls who already had a great body. Meanwhile, hidden under Baekhyun's huge black shirt that you stole, was your still-fading baby bump. It was difficult to even try to get your shoulders off the mat as you did sit-ups; you were heaving loudly, sweat dripping down your face.

“Push just a little bit more,” murmured Junho with an encouraging  smile as he put his hand between your shoulder blades, helping you sit up higher. It was a good support, but your abs were on fire, numbing everything that was made out of your core. “That's right, keep doing it like that.”

You hummed, and tried a few more times before giving up. Sukyeong wasn't that much better than you, but she still could sit up. She flashed you a small smile and mouthed: “Are you okay?”

You nodded, resting your head on the mat, trying to breathe through the workout.

As you moved through various core strengthening exercises, you started to feel it. The hurting in your breasts, the kind of feeling that you tried to prevent from happening at all costs. The closest you could compare it to was rocks.

You felt yourself panicking when you looked at Junho who was paying attention to someone else. If you wouldn't leave now, it would be too late.

“I'll be back in a minute,” you told Sukyeong, scrambling up to shaky legs. Baekhyun's shirt was getting wet now, your sports bra quickly becoming a bucket full of milk. Making few quick steps, you walked over to the door when Junho spoke up:

“Oi, are you okay? Are you sick?” He came running to you by the entrance door.

You shook your head with a polite smile. “I really need to use the bathroom.”

“Oh, we will be finishing up soon,” he said, giving you a look. Right, kids in kindergarten were learning how to hold their pee in, not how to hold back the breast milk.

You were embarrassed, but you still said: “Well, I ate something bad and this won't wait any longer-” you pushed the door open and jogged for the toilets, already pushing up the soaked shirt. Once safely inside, you yanked down the sports bra and let the milk out. You exhaled a loud sigh of relief. You knew this would cause a little mess as it was several streaks that were leaking, the milk staining everything around.

Chewing your lips, you strained your ears when you heard commotion outside, the class most probably finished. You'd been in the toilets for at least ten minutes now, so you expected Sukyeong to come search for you soon.

There was a hasty knock on the door and you were fast to hide your chest back under the shirt. Then you heard your best friend's whisper: “It's just me! Can I come in?”

You were fast to give her the permission. She closed the door behind her and you took out your breasts again, the milk once again spraying everywhere. Sukyeong scratched her head, clueless. “I have a spare shirt. Here,” she handed you the white thermal-shirt.

You shook your head. “No, I cannot wear this. It'll stain and I bet the shirt was expensive,” you bit your lip. Before she could protest with a conflicted gaze, you just waved your hand nonchalantly. “I'll be done soon. It's already much better. Besides, I don't think I could push it over my chest. I'm huge,” you admitted quietly, a little embarrassed. You trusted Sukyeong and she would never joke or judge but it was still an uncomfortable situation only Baekhyun was allowed to witness. When you saw she wasn't convinced, you added with a smile: “Baekhyun gave me a sweater before coming here, so I will wear that. Go and get our stuff? I'll be out in a minute.”

“Will you be fine?” she said, her eyes widening in small fear at the sight of the milk.

“Of course,” you winked. She gave you a look over and when she was convinced, she turned, leaving you in the toilets alone. 

Just a few minutes later and the flow finally calmed down. You took some toilet paper, wiping yourself up before cleaning up the surroundings. You were drained and you didn't even finish the workout.

When you were sure everything looked decent, you finally walked back to the gym. It was empty; only some distant sounds of chattering coming your way. Sukyeong was in the corner, entertaining the trainer.

“Are you okay?” he asked you when you walked over to them, taking your bag and your phone along the way. Junho didn't look necessarily worried, but he seemed to care enough about his clients which you found good enough. 

“Yes,” you smiled half-heartedly. “Thank you.”

Sukyeong bowed to Junho. “Then we will take our leave!”

“Alright, it was nice meeting you. I will see you on Thursday, ladies,” he pressed a smile, bowing politely. He kept following you with his sharp eyes and, unconsciously, you became shy under his scrutiny. There was something happening whenever your eyes met and you weren't sure what it was. Maybe you were just making it up because he was handsome and you wanted to believe he had an eye for you. It would make you feel like you could have been special.

“Goodness, what a hotshot,” murmured Sukyeong to you as the both of you left the premises of the gym. “He is so smart!”

You sighed, quickly putting on the sweater Baekhyun pushed into your hand before leaving the apartment. You will be sweaty, make sure to wear this once you're done, he would tell you. “You managed to get something out of him?”

“Doesn't seem to be here just to eye the girls,”she informed you proudly as she slugged her bag over her shoulder. “So that is a plus point!”

She led the both of you to the carpark, her shiny small Kia awaiting you near the exit. It was a good idea to park it nearby as you didn't have to walk more on your wobbly legs. Once seated inside, you threw your bag on the backseat and sighed, leaning your head back against the headrest.

“Are you alright?” asked Sukyeong, uncertainty evident in her eyes as she placed her bag behind her seat and turned back front, pressing the button to bring the car to life.

You nodded, though she couldn't see you. “I'm okay, thank you.” You hesitated. “Maybe a little embarrassed,” you finally admitted, staring out of your window to see other women entering their cars. Many of them owned Mercedes' or BMWs and you instantly wondered how they were able to afford such a car at such a young age.

“Oh, dear, no.” Sukyeong was fast to turn to grab your thigh, trying to bring your diverted attention to her. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I literally told him if I don't leave I will poo myself,” you whined and turned to her dramatically.

Sukyeong was about to refute but she stopped, surprised at your words. “Wait, you told him that?”

You nodded, exasperated. “I told the handsome dude I can't keep it in if he won't let me leave. I couldn't possibly tell him: yo, move or else I'll shoot you down with my breastmilk now, could I?”

She burst out into a huge laughter, her nose scrunching up in the process. “Well, if you say it like that!”

Both of you were now laughing, though you were more on the desperate side. You really made an idiot out of yourself while still having the issue of controlling your milk.

“You know, I think it would be good to tease Baekhyun a little bit. I told you that you shouldn’t let him prioritize his job. If he does it you need to show him you aren’t someone he can take for granted.”

Your joyful smile slowly melted into a frown. “Baekhyun never took me for granted and you also know it.”

“Of course I know it! I’d trust Baekhyun with my life,” she insisted quickly and started driving out of the car park and out to the busy Seoul traffic. It was incredible how this city never slept. “I’m just trying to say that a little bit of teasing never hurt anyone. You’re now a mother and you have three kids together.”

Small silence took over the car. You were looking out of the window, enjoying the unusual luxury of being in a car instead of a packed bus while your mind was roaming over what your friend said. “So, you say our relationship can become rusty? He would lose interest after some time now that I’m not so... fresh?”

Sukyeong breathed out a small laugh at the choice of your words. “I doubt Baekhyun would get tired of you.  Ever. It is true that men see their women differently after birthing their children.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking over what to tell you. “You’re only twenty-three —you’re too young, so make sure to let him know you’re still full of life and can become hard to tie down.”

You let out a doubtful snort but you felt uneasy at the topic. It never occurred to you that one day you and Baekhyun wouldn’t be together. It never occurred to you that you could lose love for each other because both of your interests would change and he would seek consolation from another partner and maybe you would stay alone. This wasn’t a new thought to you; Jiyoung, Baekhyun’s ex colleague, was challenging you more than enough in the past but even then you knew Baekhyun wasn’t interested in her. What if he found someone that actually piqued his interest? 

You shook your head quickly, rejecting the ugly idea. “You city girls have a very interesting way of thinking.”

“Just do it.” Sukyeong looked at you with excited eyes when she stopped at another red light. “Mention a hot trainer and see what’ll happen,” she told you wickedly, giggling.

<3

Upon arriving at home, you were met with Baekhyun's high-pitched talk. It calmed you down right away, and you felt like in safe haven after the small fight in the gym.

“I'm home,” you sing-sang, dropping the bag down by the entrance and taking off the sweater.

Baekhyun faked a gasp. “Who is it, Jun? Is it mummy? Let's check it out quickly!” And within a second, he appeared with Jun hanging off his connected arms, pretending he was on an airplane. Even though you trusted Baekhyun with keeping the baby safe in his arms, it gave you a little heart attack. Besides, triplets were still too small for that. “Look, Jun, it's mummy!” he exclaimed while looking over his shoulder, most probably checking  Juna and Junhee. “Welcome  home, babe,” he told you with a leveled voice, looking at you now. He adjusted Jun in his arms, having his head on his shoulder while you took off your shoes, watching him.

Your husband looked so incredibly soft. His hair was now covering his forehead, somehow making his eyes look much more puppy-eyed, just like the baby he was holding. Despite being so wide and incredibly manly, you had the urge to squeeze his cheeks like you would do to your triplets, because he was so adorable, so loveable. He was wearing his huge white T-shirt and black pants and no socks; the typical look when he was home, but for some reason, after going through challenges in the gym, you felt like he was much more inviting and cuddly, providing you comfort by simply being him, by simply staring at you with those soft eyes. He was so Baekhyun.

“I see you are having a good time,” you noted with a smile and stood on your tiptoes when Baekhyun demanded a kiss with puckered lips like a little duck. You made sure to cradle Jun’s tiny butt, your expert hand immediately knowing he had a change of the nappy recently. 

“Now it's much better,” he muttered, kissing you with a loud smooch. “How was the work-out?” he asked when he straightened up, rocking Jun exaggeratedly in his arms. Just then, his eyes dropped to your chest, the white stains very much obvious on the black textile. “Shit, did you leak?”

You shrugged, not wanting to talk about it as you walked past him to greet your daughters that were on the playmat with their little toys. “I should have known better.” Baekhyun followed you, watching as you sat down and kissed the two baby girls. “Time to change the nappies over here, hm?” Your voice was light as you touched the babies’ butts but you were surprised when they were all clean, too. Baekhyun must have worked hard during your absence.

“Sweetheart, we should go to the doctor's,” Baekhyun told you as he sat down on the couch in front of the play mat. Jun squirmed in his arms, whimpering, so he laid him gently on the blanket that was splayed next to him. “I don't like this and they could solve the issue.”

You took Junhee's tiny feet into your hands, massaging them, the skin incredibly smooth under your palm. “I'm scared they will do something that will prevent me from feeding them.”

“You know it doesn't matter whether you feed them breast milk or we give them formula. You breastfed long enough anyway. This is about your well-being, too.”

“I just want them to be close to me as much as possible,” you said, lowering your voice. It made you remember how you didn’t even think much about feeding your kids while being pregnant, and now here you were, reluctant to let go of breastfeeding. Three babies was a lot of hard work, but it was always your dream to be a mother. You wanted to make sure you really didn’t have a choice before you would make a decision. Baekhyun was correct, but you still believed the longer you were with the babies the stronger would be your bond with them. “It's a good way for them to be connected to me.”

Baekhyun observed you for a moment before checking Jun whose feet were up in the air, his tiny hands coming up to pat on them clumsily. He was a little baby ball discovering all the possible movements his body was slowly able to make. “I understand. I just want you to know that it isn't a bad thing if you stop doing it. Some women can't breastfeed at all.”

“Because they are unable to, Baekhyun.” The way your voice had an edge to it made you look up at him to catch a little panic in his eyes. He didn't want to make you upset and you felt guilty right away. “I am perfectly able to provide them with milk, but I overproduce and yes it makes my life a little more difficult but I don’t want to lose this opportunity. I'd rather not go.”

“Okay, as you wish,” he gave up quickly, not wanting to argue. He understood why you would be upset. And usually, he would try to be more persistent since he didn’t want you to suffer but he could sense your damp mood; the workout most probably gave you a harder time, he guessed. And, of course, he, as a man, couldn't comprehend completely what you were going through when your milk was flowing from you like an unstoppable mountain stream.

You hummed and stood up, your ankles sighing at the movement. “I'll go wash up.”

Baekhyun followed you with his gaze until you disappeared in the corridor that led towards your shared bedroom. He looked back down at Jun and then at the girls on the mat. “Well, what shall we do to make mummy feel better?” he pouted at them.

Small baby gurgles came back to him in response. “Right, I agree,” he replied thoughtfully. He was quiet for a moment, only hearing the distant sounds from the TV and your movements in the bedroom. Checking the clock on the opposite wall, he was fast to jump up. “Now, you naughty kids, it’s way past your bedtime and you still don’t sleep! Let’s get you all to the crib before mommy comes back!��

Since the triplets were calm, he knew they would fall asleep soon. He made sure their energy would be somehow drained while you were away although he was sure he used up more energy than they did. It was difficult to work with infants and he didn’t know how you managed it on a daily basis nonstop. Another reason for him to admire and respect you.

“I’ll see you whenever you wake us up,” he told them when he put Jun, the last baby,  in the crib. He laughed gently to himself and observed his offsprings with a tender gaze. He had to admit that Jun looked like him when he was a baby. Junhee was definitely your splitting image while Juna seemed to be in the middle, though her eyes were Baekhyun’s, too. She was the perfect mix of you and him. 

He wondered which one of them would love hapkido. He wondered which one of them would be smart in mathematics like you were. Which one of them would hate foreign languages and cucumbers? Which one of them would cry the most in the kindergarten and which one of them would always be the quiet one? Baekhyun hoped and wished that the triplets would have a special bond that would always protect them from getting hurt by other people. After all, the world kept getting harsher and harsher day by day.

“I’ll always be there for you,” he whispered just when Junhee’s eyes closed, her small mouth hanging open when she let go of the pacifier. “You’ll always have me and mummy to protect you. Always.”

<3

You took your time in the bathroom. Muscles you didn't know existed were aching, so you took the luxury to let yourself be soaked in warm water a little bit longer. There was a soft knock on the door and you quickly let Baekhyun enter.

He was expressionless but when you locked eyes as he closed the door with his back, he pulled a smile meant only for you. “Do you feel better?” he asked quietly, setting the monitor on the sink before walking up to you. He leaned down, pecking you on the top of your head.

“Much better,” you sighed, closing your eyes when you felt his hand slide down your cheek and to your neck. Since he brought in the monitor with him, you took it he managed to put the babies to sleep. It only made you feel worse that you still could become irritated at such a good husband like Baekhyun. “Sorry I snapped at you.”

“No,” he was fast to mutter against your hair, his thumb grazing the skin on your jaw. “I understand. I am just worried, is all.”

“I know, and I don't appreciate it enough,” you replied and Baekhyun pulled away to look down at you with crinkled eyes.

“You do much more, sweetheart. Don't be so harsh on yourself, hm?” He let go of you and slid down next to the bathtub, his back against it. You had the urge to splash him with water but you decided you would have a water fight another day. “Besides, you went to work out after a full day of mothering. It's only natural you'd be frustrated.”

“If only you couldn't read me so well.”

Baekhyun smiled to himself. “How could I tease you if I wouldn't know my wife so well, hm?”

He heard you let out a small chuckle from behind him. “Life would be so much easier.”

Your husband laughed and turned his head to look at you over his shoulder. Water was just barely covering your chest, your cheeks were rosy from the heat and your baby hair was curled up from the humidity. Goodness, he couldn't stop staring. You looked like an angel.

“What?” you murmured, his intense gaze making you pink even more.

“Nothing,” was his breathy reply. “Just admiring my gorgeous little lady.”

With a shy smile, you sat up, causing small waves in the bathtub, and you pressed your lips to his pouty ones. His eyes widened playfully and when you wanted to pull back, he chased your lips, grounding you. You smiled, bringing your wet hand up to his cheek, but he didn't react to the wetness, simply prolonging the innocent kiss. “You know,” you told him when you separated, your noses still touching. Baekhyun hummed in interest, watching your lips before he flickered his orbs up to yours. “There was a really hot guy in the gym.”

Baekhyun blinked a couple of times, letting your words sink in and he was fast to withdraw from you. “What?”

You giggled, satisfied at his reaction. It wasn't that bad to listen to Sukyeong's offer after all. “Yes, he was the one leading the class today.”

“A hot guy leading a class for women?” he repeated, surprised.

Now then, why did he ever expect you to just not pay attention to other males? You never did, or so he thought, but he was still taken aback. The way your eyes sparkled in mischief was an obvious sign that you were just trying to rile him up for whatever reason, yet he still felt a little protective. Did that man look at you, too?!

“Why, you don't like it?” you quipped, poking your tongue out to him.

He observed you giggling, your eyes crinkled up when you took note of his disapproval. Something moved within him. “You want me to like it?”

You sighed lovingly and booped his nose. “I want you to like me, silly. I’m just playing around.”

Baekhyun huffed, offended, and spoke in a prominent pout: “I don't like it, young lady. You have me. You have triplets with me. I love you. And you love me.”

“That, I do.” Bringing up in the air your left hand, you looked how the band on your fourth finger caught the light in the bathroom. “And here is the proof.”

He was looking up at your hand and he joined it with his, his own ring shining just like yours. He enveloped his fingers around yours gently. “Why would you try to make oppa worried about such things?” murmured Baekhyun in wonder as he stood up and towered over you. He let go of your hand and leaned further down so his face was close to yours, his long neck chain swaying in the air between you. “Oppa doesn't like sharing, but you know that, right?”

You nodded, awaiting his next words. Except, it wasn't words. Baekhyun surprised you by swiftly lowering his hands into the warm water to grab a hold of you under your knees and waist. You squealed, suddenly scared you might slip out of his grip so you quickly circled your arms around his neck, water splashing everywhere. But seeing his biceps flexing you knew he was much better than Lee Junho or any other trainer there was.

“I'm naked and wet, Baekhyun!” you screamed and Baekhyun laughed loudly, enjoying your little panic as he moved you out of the bathtub, bringing you over where the sink was.

“Hmm, exactly,” he hummed in appreciation, his eyes twinkled and you quickly hid your face in his neck, embarrassed. “You don't get to play with oppa's heart like that and not get punished, baby girl.”

Despite the excitement, he put you down, more worried about you catching a cold than teasing the hell out of you. As soon as your legs were on the floor, you slapped his chest, making the male groan. “You silly! You could have dropped me!”

“I would never,” he denied quietly, pecking you sweetly and reaching for the towel that was hanging next to the bathtub. “And don't forget,” he reminded, wrapping the towel around your shoulders, making sure it was catching every drop of water, “that you still have a punishment list from when you were pregnant. Don't think I forgot.”

Your eyes widened in horror and you frowned at him like a little kid though secretly you really thought he had forgotten. “You are being so mean right now!”

Baekhyun only smirked and tapped your naked bum gently as he brought your body closer. “You asked for it. From now on, I won't hold back anymore,” he murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear. It tickled.

There were feelings of excitement, eagerness and curiosity bubbling in your tummy, or maybe those were just the butterflies Baekhyun awakened whenever he did something heart-fluttering and challenging to your relationship. It was a long time since you two had been together, but finding ways to ignite the passion and desire in the both of you was Baekhyun's specialty. And you would try to make it yours, now that you seemed to find a weak spot of his.

“You can start by kissing me as a thank you for bringing you out of the tub,” he said when you didn't reply.

You scoffed and re-adjusted the towel, bringing it around your body. It made you feel conscious that you were completely naked in front of him, although Baekhyun didn't even pay attention. His own clothes were wet since he brought you out of the water. The white tshirt was stuck to his stomach, perfectly outlining his muscles.

Baekhyun pursed his lips when you didn't listen. You turned to walk out of the bathroom but he was fast to grab your wrist, turning you back to him. “I said, give me a kiss.”

“No!” You shook your head resolutely, sticking your lower lip out as you frowned, hoping to make him agitated.

The excitement in you only doubled when Baekhyun quirked an eyebrow, leaning his head closer to yours and turning his smooth cheek towards you as he tapped his long index finger on it. “C’mon, a peck for oppa.”

His other hand sneakily wandered to your side to tickle you and you were fast to giggle crazily, pushing his hand away. “Okay, okay,” you said quickly and pressed your lips to his awaiting cheek. He hummed, feeling your mouth stretched in a smile and he turned his face, his lips colliding with yours.

You squealed, wanting to step back - because he was being unfair - but his hands sneaked around your waist, bringing you to him and therefore successfully caging you in. He urged your mouth open, slowly pushing his tongue into your cavern that became quickly eager to feel him. You sighed and slid your hands up his sturdy chest. You nibbled on his lip though he quickly stopped you when he sucked on your tongue hard, bringing out a small moan out of you. He made out with you sensually and you knew you were becoming giddy because of him.

He let his hands grope your bum, giving a good massage to your aching muscles and you moaned again, satisfied. “I guess I will have to show you a much better workout routine,” Baekhyun whispered when he let go of your lips with a smack.

Your heart skipped a beat when you realized there really wasn’t anything standing in your way. The triplets were asleep and Baekhyun riled you up so much it would be difficult to lie down next to him without touching him. “Then show me, oppa,” you made sure to emphasize the “p” sound, his twinkly eyes on your swollen lips.

He chuckled lovingly and kissed your forehead, his lips leaving a bit of moisture behind. Gently intertwining your hands, he led you out of the bathroom and straight to your bed. 

“Lie down for me, sweetheart,” he told you quietly as he went to close the bedroom door. Once you got the needed privacy, he reached behind him, pulling on the shirt that he swiftly took off, your eyes appreciating the way his muscles flexed. He threw it on the floor and walked over to you, already lying on bed as he told you to. “Let me remind you that you’re oppa’s,” he mumbled with passion, already distracted by your body that was still covered with the towel.

His words ignited the desire in you and when he hovered over you with a focused gaze, you knew this would be a long night for the both of you.

<3

On Thursday, you went to the gym with determination. The reason was simple: two babies hanging off you and one hanging off of Sukyeong. Baekhyun was running late from work so you had to bring them with you this time. Despite your huge worries, you had to drop them off at the baby corner. The kind, elderly lady showed you the young babysitter that would be in charge of your triplets (after everyone stopped ogling them and squealing about how cute they were). Her name was Sonhee and her smile was the purest you had ever laid eyes on. Her face was gentle and her eyes seemed to be telling a story of a difficult life. What was a little interesting was that you had a feeling you had seen her somewhere before and it wasn't in this gym.

“Do you have any license to prove that she is capable of taking care of three infants?” barged into the conversation Sukyeong, her eyes suspiciously looking over the girl. Even though you had the same question, you wouldn't have uttered it so bluntly. “She looks too young. Even younger than their mother,” she added with a huff.

The lady in charge, Mrs Lee, didn’t show her shock - that was if there was any. “She is the eldest sibling in her family. At home, she is taking care of five more siblings and she is a kindergarten teacher in practice during the school year.”

Your mouth shaped an “o”, nodding thoughtfully and you quickly nudged Sukyeong, catching her opening her mouth to rebut again. “Thank you. I know Sonhee won't do anything to undermine my trust.”

“I will do my best.” Sonhee bowed the perfect 90 degrees and you quickly lowered your head as well, accepting her respect. “I will make sure nothing bad will happen!”

You smiled and quickly looked over the triplets again. They were three months old and you would already let them be with a stranger. Were you still considered a responsible and good mother?

“All the rich mothers do it and they are considered great for doing it,” answered your question Sukyeong in a monotone as you were walking to the gym. “It is just sixty minutes - what can happen during such a short time?”

You frowned, pouting. “Oh, once you'll have kids, you will know, Sukyeong-ah,” you mumbled under your breath. With babies, things could go wrong within seconds. What made Sukyeong ever believe leaving babies alone for sixty minutes was safe?

“Well, it'll be fine!” she smiled brightly as you entered a still empty gym. You put your bag and phone down, and noticed the last message Baekhyun wrote:

sorry again baby enjoy your workout let me know if the munchkins were okay when you dropped them off love you baby ❤️

Your heart fluttered at the last sentence and you shot him a quick reply with an update when you heard the door of the gym opening, you trainer, Lee Junho, appearing.

He had a sleeveless sports shirt that showed his defined arms and boy, was he chunky in all the right ways. You were the first one his eyes fell on and his straight lips stretched into a delightful smile. To your surprise, he called your name: “Hello! You came already today! Ah, Sukyeong, too!”

You gave him a shy smile and caught him looking quickly over your outfit. The typical. Baekhyun's huge shirt with old pants that your legs could get lost in. You wouldn't be wearing leggins any time soon, you swore. All the ladies wore tight pilates clothing, so you were aware you looked like a trash bag but you never felt more comfortable. Just to see whether Junho let something on in his face, you watched him, but he only diverted his attention to Sukyeong who greeted him with a wide smile.

“Were you alright on Tuesday after the class?” asked Junho as he started to stretch on the floor.

Sukyeong, wanting to be a good student, followed him while you were still standing, the phone in your hands vibrating with most probably incoming messages from your husband. You pinked.

“Ye-yeah, I was … okay,” you mumbled. You already forgot about the stupid lie you made up so he would let you go to the troilets on Tuesday. Baekhyun made sure you forgot about every sane thought that night, so in conclusion, you were more than alright after class on Tuesday.

Junho nodded attentively. “Well, you can try to take it easier today, I won’t mind,” he winked with a grin.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Alright.”

“Is it exam season at uni that has you so stressed?” was his next question when he reached for his stretched out feet. 

“Sorry?”

“Ah, right, well she could easily be a uni student,” giggled Sukyeong, looking at you. “My friend is still so young. She shouldn’t be so stressed, right, Junho?”

Junho watched your friend from the corner of his eye with amusement. “It would be great if no one had any stress in their lives.”

Deciding not to answer, you wanted to check your messages but the rest of the class started to arrive, so you joined Sukyeong instead. Stretching was always a good choice and Baekhyun told you about the importance of warming up properly.

“He seems to be interested in you,” whispered Sukyeong eagerly when Junho became busy replying to his fangirl students. “You piqued his curiosity!”

“Shh, stop that!” you winced, pushing her. She was spitting nonsense to tease you but- why was your heart skipping like that?!

After waiting for five more minutes, you started the workout. Even though you were already terrible, you had a weird anxiety from Junho. Maybe it was Sukyeong’s teasing that made you weirdly conscious of his gaze whenever he looked your way or looked directly at you.

You were sweating like a pig, your face shiny from the perspiration but you were determined not to give up. It was for your own benefit, your own health and if you worked on yourself, you could carry the triplets and carry the groceries - you could become a physically acclaimed superwoman!

“Make sure to straighten your back when you do the plank!” shouted Junho over the loud music just when he walked by you. Stopping, he crouched down and placed his hand first between your shoulder blades. “Keep it straight for me,” he told you and then both of his hands landed on your hips, making you go stiff under his touch. “Hips square to the mat. Make sure to squeeze your abs to keep your core strong and balanced,” he was telling in a hushed tone that felt weirdly intimate to you. 

“I don’t have abs,” you heaved out, your arms shaking as you tried to keep the plank straight and correct. Junho huffed a laugh, standing up. “Well, you're doing great anyway!”

Feeling the relief when you saw him walk away, you heaved out a heavy sigh, focusing on being in the moment and imagining becoming strong; for yourself. For the babies. For Baekhyun. You could do it-

There was a distant shout calling out for your name. Recognizing the voice of Mrs Lee, you almost fell face-first on the ground from panic when you registered her words.

“Jun wouldn’t stop throwing up!”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

A/N: Second chapter - done! But Jun :( What do you think about Junho? And Baek was busy, oh well... 

Your feedback for the first part was SO NICE! Thank you to everyone who took the time to write me a comment in any form. Its so, so appreciated! 

See you soon!

P.S. some people took notice AND pointed it out (which made me feel so happyyy!) that Baekhyun and OC seem to talk a lot in oppa/younger girl reference. That stems deeply from the prequel times when OC referred to him only as oppa (no, referring to Baekhyun - or any older male that is not too old, and the situation allows it - as oppa is not wrong as everyone is portraying it out in the "weirded out" culture. Baekhyun is older than OC and now it became a small game for him; after all, he loves that she is younger and he can take care of her and with the addition of triplets, he wants to embrace this a little more. Also, bear in mind they are both quite young!). So when I get to write the prequel, it will only be their oppa/younger-girl relationship! ^^ (which is why also in Captain Bucheon Lee Nari refers to Baekhyun’s character as oppa - same reason).

[red1culous]

Sweat part 1

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.

One of the things you hated about working with the Avengers was how insanely fit everyone was. You wouldn’t exactly call yourself a shapeless potato but you were nowhere as sculpted or as svelte as your other team members.

You had just joined the band of heroes two months ago and were working under Maria Hill as a Shield agent. She had taken the time to show you around the place because you were one of the few applicants Fury himself recommended. Being new to the team you were eager to impress.

Maria herself was of slight build but you knew she was tough having one day crashed into her after turning a blind corner. Her elbow caught the side of your face as you both collided and it left you with a nasty shiner that lasted a week.

So you made it a point to become fitter and stronger. That meant visits to the gym. Your anxiety however got the better of you and visiting the gym when everyone else was there was certainly out of the question. So you purposely set your alarm for 2 hours earlier so you could get a full workout before anyone else was even awake.

The first time you entered the gym was daunting. All those big machines seemingly mocking your puny existence. You pushed past the fear and soon you were brave enough to play your music loud from your phone speakers and you started to relax a little and enjoy your early morning sessions more.

Then something you never could have dreamed of happened turning your world upside down.

After a 10 minute cardio warm up you headed to the chest press machine. You were feeling good this morning. Stretching and limbering up a little your playlist started on a new song, one that you particularly liked. It had all the right beats in all the right places. You soon got lost in the music and started to do a little dance on the spot as you stretched your arms and legs out . You were so caught up in the music you almost screamed when you felt a gentle tap tap tap on your shoulder. Turning around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash you were stunned by the sight in front of you.

Natasha Romanoff.

WTF.

“Hi. I’m Natasha. You ok?” she cocks her head concerned at your dazed expression.

“Hi! Sorry I just didn’t think there’d be anyone here. I’m Y/N” you hoped she hadn’t heard the enormous swallow you just did with how dry your throat suddenly became.

“Yea I know. Fury has said some impressive things about you. And that man says nothing about anyone so that’s a huge compliment” she smiled tying up her hair into a neat ponytail. Your eyes were inexplicably drawn to her biceps as they flexed and bunched up at the simple action.

“Uh ok” was all you could muster shaking your head trying to clear your mind.

“Sorry, do you mind if we share the gym? I promise to stay on that side” she points to the other end of the gym and you instantly felt like a monster.

“What no! No don’t do that. Sorry I just wasn’t expecting anyone here so early. Plus I’m not used to doing this whole gym thing” you ducked your head feeling a blush blooming across your chest and rising to your face.

“Oh you really don’t look like you even need the gym” she counters.

Wait. Was that a compliment?

She continues, “how about we spot for each other? I haven’t trained with another girl in ages. It’ll be nice since this place is usually a playground for the boys and their dick measuring contests”

And that’s how you found yourself working out with Natasha Romanoff, or Nat as she insisted you call her. This was insane. What was even more insane was the outfit she had on. She was wearing a black tank top that ended just under her breasts exposing her abs. All the abs. The way it twitched with every movement she made was even more distracting than her leg and calve muscles that were clearly visible under the ridiculously tight spandex pants she wore. If you knew you would be partnering with her you would’ve probably not worn your moth eaten college t-shirt and 100 year old track pants.

Right this moment she was stood in front of the chest press machine counting your sets. She was making light conversation and whenever you struggled she would assist slightly. Her words of encouragement did help a little. You were actually having fun.

“I like that you’re always smiling when you’re working out” she says in between counting you to 10.

“Nat, this isn’t me smiling” you pant out, “this is me gritting my teeth holding back my swear words” this got her laughing which caused you to laugh and drop the weights unable to hold them up yourself.

“Ok 10 more smartass let’s go” she straightens up wagging a finger at you.

If working out with the Black Widow was stressful, not knowing where to look with her standing right in front of you was worse.

Should you stare at her abs? No that’s awkward.

Stare at her face? Nope, worse idea ever.

Stare at the floor at her feet. Yes that might work.

“Up up! Keep your head and eyes up so your posture is straight” she tuts reaching for your chin and pushing it up.

Well that idea went to hell fast. Next up was the bench press machine.

She excitedly says she wants to go first and of course you’re not going to argue. Your arms were still burning from the 50 reps she had you do. So now you’re stood to her right looking everywhere except where she has lay down. Suddenly you don’t know what you’re supposed to do with your arms.

These appendages are they meant to hang loosely by your side?

Should I hug myself?

“Earth to Y/N. Hey quit dreaming and help me out here partner” she breaks you out of your reverie.

Did you think this was not going to get any more awkward? Seemed like the world was adamant on proving you wrong today.

Natasha has you standing with one leg on either side of her torso as she effortlessly lifts and lowers the bar. You’re assisting but you think she could do this without you and probably just as well with one arm. Still you can’t complain. When else would you ever find yourself in this position with Natasha Romanoff.

“Your turn” she cheerily says and she starts to get up. Sensing your hesitation she gently pushes you onto the machine taking the position you occupied only minutes ago.

“You didn’t even break a sweat, Nat” you pout.

“You’ll be fine I’ll help” she says more confident of your abilities than you are.

“I’ll break my neck more like. You better not let this…oooof” you grunt as you feel the full weight of the bar unable to finish your sentence.

“Ok trust me I’ll hold it too” she shimmies further up your torso and bends slightly so she can support more of the bar with you. This has her close to your face and somehow the bar feels heavier than before.

She went easy on you and let you off at 30 reps instead of 50 because towards the end of the count she was lifting more than you were. Your arms truly felt like jelly. Working out with Natasha would be the death of you no doubt.

“What do you want to do next rookie?” she says still looking the way she did when she walked into the gym that morning. You were pretty sure you looked like you had just walked to the moon and back.

“Is dying an option?” you say as you lay on the floor with a towel over your face having just completed a set of leg raises, push ups, crunches and Russian twists.

“How about some stretches? It’ll help with the aches” she lifts a corner of the towel covering your face and peeks at you as she smiles.

So now you are prone on the floor and the Black Widow is practically on top of you stretching out your hamstrings, quads and glutes.

“HOW IS THIS RELAXING!?” you’re practically writhing under her hands, “I FEEL LIKE SOMETHING IS GOING TO SNAP”

“It is relaxing! You’ll thank me tomorrow” she’s smirking at your childish antics. Honestly your idea of stretching was incense, low lighting and soft music. This felt worse than working out.

“Ok let’s swap you big baby” she coos.

“Urgh thank god I was about to pass out already” you jump to your feet and give her space to lie down.

“Uh you’re going to have to help me I don’t know what to do” suddenly feel the awkwardness return as you watch her laying on the floor.

“Ok squat here and put one hand here” she pulls you down in between her legs and places one of your hands on her upper left thigh, “now hold this down and press this leg up” she guides you so her right leg is resting on your shoulder.

“Uh…like this?” you asked blushing again. Why does this feel so intimate?

“Yea but push harder” she says as she lays back down on the mat, “harder Y/N I’m not going to break” it sounded like a command now.

“This is a weird angle are you sure …” she interrupts you by tugging roughly on your round collar so that now your face is inches from hers, “I did ballet I’m flexible don’t worry I like the deep stretch” she’s smirking again still holding onto your collar.

“R-right I’ll be sure to remember that” you whisper stutter your response. You’re starting to think she’s doing this on purpose.

You’re thinking back to all the touches. A hand on your upper arm. Her squeezing your shoulders a few times when you said they were sore. Her standing behind you with her hands on your waist to show you how to properly execute a squat without causing injury to your back. Or her taking your hand and placing it on her stomach to better illustrate “which muscles will be activated when you’re doing core exercises properly”.

Sure it could be her genuinely trying to help….but what if it was something more.

After a few more positions where you find yourself either laying across her or straddling her, Steve walks into the gym and coughs awkwardly behind the both of you. You jump off of Natasha and stand ramrod straight fidgeting with your fingers.

“Hi Y/N you’re here early. Are you done already?” he asks sweetly.

“Yeah Y/N and I are done here Steve” Natasha answers for you picking up her stuff.

“See you tomorrow morning same time Y/N” she says as she saunters away towards the shower rooms.

“Right yeah tomorrow” is all you manage to get out as she makes her way out of the gym.

“What was that about?” Steve asks you as he starts unpacking his gym bag and grabbing his water bottle and towel.

“I guess I have a new workout buddy” you say smiling ear to ear.

“Hmm…”

“Hmm? Steve don’t leave me with a ‘hmm’”

“No it’s just that Nat hates working out with anyone. I guess she likes you” he says hiding a knowing smile as he fake wipes non-existent sweat off his face.

“Hmm” you say picking up your phone and towel, slinging it over your shoulder and making your way towards the exit.

“Hey, now what’s that supposed to mean Y/N?” Steve calls to you.

“Nothing Steve” you continue with a bounce in your step and a smile on your face, “means nothing at all”.

Tagging: @natasharomanoffismywife​

[zrtranscripts]

Home Front, Mission 12: Fight For Your Right To… Work Out!

Clash of the Marauders

~

PETER LYNNE: Well, hello there, runners. It's me here, Peter, and my trusty sidekick, Mr. Fox. Miss Fox? Actually, not sure. There really isn't much sexual dimorphism in foxes. Um, let's just go with... Foxy the Fox. Great. So uh, Foxy and I, well, we're still locked in the Princess Louise theater projection box. We're playing films to keep the zoms in the auditorium occupied while we eat, sleep, and of course, work out.

That's right, runners, it's time for some more exercise! So... Oh! If you fancy spicing up your workout with some weight, we've found that tin cans are brilliant. Uh, now would be the time to grab those. Marvelous. Right, now time to start warming up. Do a nice little dance, jog on the spot, jumping jacks, whatever you fancy. Start to stretch it out, feel it to the extremities.

Oh uh, by the way, great news. So Sam helped me fix the looping playlist, so Foxy, the zoms, and I are now watching Clash of the Marauders! It's the video game adaptation, yes. [sighs] Listeners of a certain vintage might remember picking their fighter from the pixelated lineup at the arcade.

See, I could never decide on my favorite. Everyone else had one, um, but should I go with Ninja Vampire? Pirate Queen? Werewolf Scientist? Mutant Rhinoceros? Yeah, in the game, they then fought each other in these crazy arenas that tied into their backstory. So you'd have to fight Pirate Queen on her galleon and Werewolf Scientist in his lab on the moon. That's right.

The film... ah, it makes a valiant effort to tie the stories together, but no one would accuse it of being great cinema. Didn't matter to me much when I was nine, though. God, I really, really loved it. I mean, to a kid who's just stuck in the suburbs, it made the world feel really big and just amazing and weird, like one day somehow I'd be able to experience something more. And yes, of course that might involve having to brawl with an evil squirrel the size of a T-Rex, but at the time that seemed like a very reasonable price to pay.

Anyway, one thing everyone can agree on is that Clash of the Marauders has a superlative soundtrack, so I'm going to run the music through the comms. Let's just dance, or throw some fighting shapes, either way, as we enjoy our title song.

~

PETER LYNNE: So contrary to what those opening credits suggest, violence actually isn't always the answer. I mean, fair. Historically, violence against zombies has often been the answer, but if like me, you are heavily outnumbered, then staying inside is an even better answer. But just because we're inside, well, that doesn't mean we can't enjoy a good workout.

So we're going to start with our old favorite, the hooks, which you'll remember from our Rocky workout. You see, this bit of Clash of the Marauders where the alien pugilist avenges her sister is - and I've always thought this - quite like Rocky, actually. Except instead of the Philadelphia meat packing district, well, I mean, of course, it's set in a forest of sentient mushrooms.

Uh, first off, right, get back into your classic boxing stance. So stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. Now step your right foot back a little. Hold your fists up with your right hand close to your body and the left hand in front protecting your face from that imaginary target. Now we're swinging our right fist across the body in that horizontal arc. Do not forget to shift your weight to your left foot as you do it and follow through with the right shoulder. It's the whole body thing. Imagine this nice big thwadoompf! as your fist collides with the side of that invisible specter.

Oh, uh, the alien pugilist is fighting the um, scheming toadstools that killed her sister. So in honor of her, imagine giving those nasty fungi what for. And if you want to make it more challenging, by all means, hold those weights whilst you punch. Right, okay. We're going to do 30 seconds of hooks on the right and then – warning - we're going to switch to the left.

Ready? Three, two, one, punch! Oh, it's lovely form. You have been practicing, my word. 15 seconds down, runners. Now remember, you're swinging the punch across your body in the shape of a hook. Now that's 30 seconds. So it is time - and I apologize - to switch stance so that your right leg is forwards and we're moving to be swinging our hooks from the left. Your 30 seconds on the other side start, ready? Now.

There we go. I'm not gonna lie, it's not quite as smooth, but keep on punching, runners. You show those filthy toadstools whose boss. Beautiful. Oh, nice work! Those mushrooms truly are mush, or at least uh, the ones on screen are. The alien pugilist, by the way, has just been recruited to the marauders, so it's time for her to teleport to earth and time for us to take a music break. So you can keep swinging those hooks if you're in the zone, or just have a bop to this next song. Do enjoy.

~

PETER LYNNE: Ah, Foxy, my boy. Girl. I don't know. When I was a kid, you see, I-I used to get absolutely livid when people mocked Clash of the Marauders. I mean, you know what it's like when you really just love something, it's yours. Someone criticizing it, well, that feels like a personal insult. But yes, as an adult, I will grant you the film has a few faults.

Like the fact that it spends so much time establishing the characters’ backstories, none of them actually meet until the middle of the film. I mean, the first half, it feels like 10 different movies. One set on a mushroom planet, one's on a galleon, one's in the jungle, one's on the moon. The current situation feels a bit like we're all the heroes of different films. It should be the same, but no matter how far apart we are, at the very least we're... we're doing these exercises, we're doing something together.

Us and good old Teenage Warlock, whose evil mentor, by the way, has imprisoned him inside a cursed mountain. So how tough is your life? Young Warlock has to contort his body into the most ridiculous shapes in order to cast his spells because he... actually, I don't know why, but for some reason, Teenage Warlock can only bend the bars of his cage by putting his feet behind his head. Don't worry, runners, we're not gonna do that one today.

Instead, why don't we do some forward lunges? Teenage Warlock uses these to manifest a bridge over the lake of lava keeping him from freedom, but we're probably just going to use them to work our legs, hips, and core. But I'm not ruling it out. If any of you want to cross the lava, you can.

So stand with your feet together and your back straight. Now take one step forward, keeping your knees and feet pointing straight ahead. You lower your back knee so that it almost but doesn't quite touch the ground. Make sure your front knee doesn't extend beyond your toes and your center of gravity is above the hips. Now raise back up. Nice. Now switch legs, do it on the other side. Lovely. So for a little more challenge should you need it, no pressure, hold those weights whilst we go.

So we're going to do 60 seconds of lunges, starting three, two, one, now! And there we go. 15 seconds down. Remember to keep the core engaged and the back straight. Imagine you're a pencil with legs. You're working them, but everything from the hips up, rod straight. And you're halfway there, and that's just like Teenage Warlock being halfway across the lava lake. So just 15 seconds to go, runners. Keep it up! There we are, you can see the finish line, and we've done it once again.

Oh, and by the way, that is just in time for Teenage Warlock's theme song. Oh, love it. Cast some imaginary spells with your dance moves or just keep on lunging. Either way, I'm going to enjoy myself.

~

PETER LYNNE: So how are the weights working out? Honestly, if you're not using them, don't worry, it doesn't matter. Just curious, and it's more important to listen to what your body needs and do the exercise that's going to make it feel best. You know, if you happen to be shut away with someone - maybe it's, just hypothetical, a small fluffy someone who insists on staring at you with their big yellow eyes whilst you work out - just remember that no one else's opinion matters. Oh! Uh, sorry. [laughs] This is time for the Marauders’ big training montage now, so obviously we've got to join in with them, and so we're going to do some crunches.

So if you've got a yoga mat or a towel to hand, perfect. Lay that out now. If you don't, don't worry. But you want it lain out and then lie down with your back on top of it. Totally fine if you don't have one, just a bonus. Right, so your feet should be flat on the ground with the knees pointing up towards the ceiling, then you want to raise your hands so that they're just resting near but not on your ears. Great. So then lift the torso slightly off the floor, but you're using your abs. Don't curve. You keep your neck and back straight as if they're one solid block. Don't try to lift the torso too high, there's no point. Focus on control, that's the point. And keep your core engaged, that's what it's for.

To make it easier if you need, extend your arms out in front of you when you lift up. If you want to make it harder, grab those weights, keep your arms up high. But if you do so, make sure that you are being very careful to protect the back by keeping your core firmly engaged.

Right, we're going to do 60 seconds of crunches, and that's going to start now! Beautiful! Oh, I could watch this all day, if only I could watch this. Beautiful. You've crunched your way through 15 seconds, runners, just like I've crunched my way through 15 hot dogs this week. And yes, I've cooked them badly. Halfway there. Remember to lift with your abs, never with the back. Almost there, only 15 seconds to go. Keep on going. I'm doing it with you. You don't know if that's true, but I'm telling you it is. And we are done! Marvelous. Now if you're up to it, why not keep on crunching straight through this music break?

~

PETER LYNNE: Oh, Foxy. I've always been into my fitness, but even I catch myself watching Clash of the Marauders and I feel a little bit wistful that I'll probably never be able to bench press a monster truck. Still, that kind of thinking leaves me less motivated, not more, and that's no good. If you are struggling with motivation, the first thing to remember is that you have already made the effort to work out, so you're already doing an amazing job. That's the hardest part!

The second thing is you can actually get a buzz from improving, regardless of what fitness level you start from. It's just... okay, perfect example. Take a look at Mutant Rhinoceros. I mean, he starts out pretty down on himself after the accident with the gene splicer, but he takes things day by day, learns what he can do with his new body, and in the end, it's his horn spin that saves the day.

So with that in mind, our last big exercise is one that can be tough when you first try it, but it's so very rewarding as you improve. It's the horn spin! Joking, it’s wall sits. Right, get ready. Stand a little over a foot away from a wall with your back facing it. Then carefully lean back against the wall until your back's flat against it. It's fine to use your arms to guide you, not a problem.

Now you may need to do a little bit of adjusting here. You want your thighs and calves at a 90 degree angle with your thighs parallel to the ground. However, if that's too much, no problem, don't worry. Move your feet close the wall and your knees will then be at a more gentle angle. Now we're going to hold that for 60 seconds, or as close as you can get, starting from now!

See, it's so comfortable. How could this be an exercise? It's hardly any effort at all. You've made it to 15 seconds. Uh-oh, the burn’s beginning. Now you're starting to feel it. Oh, there's a reason we're doing this. Halfway through. Keep your back, head, and buttocks straight flat against the wall. You can do it. You've got to keep a straight line, otherwise the whole game falls apart. It's like a house of cards, but made of you. Right, almost there, runners. Just 15 seconds left. Don't just feel the burn, embrace the burn, love the burn, be the burn. And we're done!

I tell you what, you have certainly earned a dance break to this next song, but if you happen to be feeling as tough as a mutant rhinoceros, well, you just keep on propping up that wall.

~

PETER LYNNE: Oh yes, here we go. See, the Marauders are gearing up for the final clash. You see, what I love about this part - aside from the amazing music, obviously - but it's how it shows the Marauders make a great team because they all play to their different strengths. Yes, the Pirate Queen has a cutlass, but Tiger Witch’s moves, they're all claw-based, and then Flame Dancer!

Oh, Flame Dancer is my favorite. He's just, I know, he's just got so much flair, you know? He just casts these arcs of flame with this perfectly timed hip swivel. Um, I mean, also it is refreshing to have an explicitly bi character in a video game adaptation. [mockingly] "Oh my God, I can't imagine someone who likes fighting evil and dancing and boys and girls."

You know, every single one of the Marauders’ unique fighting styles are ultimately needed to take down Rex Farringdon. He's the monomaniacal billionaire who's hellbent on repopulating the world with clones of himself. So for our final music break, I would love you to dance in your own unique way as the Marauders, too, fight for their right to be themselves.

~

PETER LYNNE: Oh, what moves, runners! My word. And congratulations, you are just in time for all of the Marauders to come together as they send Rex Farringdon and his clones all the way to the mushroom planet. [sighs] You know, Clash of the Marauders really is just by far one of the best video game adaptation movies. Even Foxy seemed to like it, and Foxy has some very strong opinions about films. You should see what they did to the carpet during Cats III.

Oh, this is so nice. This is the scene where the whole cast walks off into the sunset together. Apparently, they were genuinely good friends as well. Oh, I suppose it's going to be a while before all of us runners are able to actually be together, run again. I mean sure, well, I've got someone to watch films with now, but it would be really nice to see the rest of you. For one thing, you all don't express affection by leaving bits of chewed-up hot dog on my chair. Yes, I appreciate the thought, Foxy.

You know, if like me, you get lonely sometimes, it's just human. You might find it helpful to remember that at the very least, by staying safe and keeping not just physically but mentally healthy and caring for yourself, you are doing your part to help everyone rebuild when the time comes. Anyway, until next time runners, this is me and Foxy, signing off.

~

[blarrghe]

"Watching me while I sweat from exercising" for Dorianders because... of reasons? XD

Up on AO3 or uner the cut! (the formattinig is probably better on AO3 tumblr is the actual worst)

--

Befriending Magister Dorian Pavus continued to be the worst decision Anders had made since the one that had landed him in Tevinter in the first place. Not at the least because being friends with Magister Dorian Pavus was, on a scheduling level, practically impossible. It was almost maddening, how neither of them ever seemed to have any blighted free time. There was Dorian, very important and very busy, always rushing off to meetings or press events or fundraisers or galas, only available for a quick coffee or for trying to convince Anders to go out clubbing at two in the morning. Which, frankly, he had less than no interest in doing — for several reasons, only minimally to do with the fact that the music gave him a headache (the thought of standing by and watching Dorian dance and practice his smarmy lines on attractive club goers made up most of the rest of it). And then there was his own life, overflowing with unkempt medical notes and overdue bills, and a schedule packed with night shifts and on-call hours that made maintaining a regular sleep schedule impossible, never mind a social life. But despite all that, it was nice to have someone to talk to again. Someone passionate and revolutionary and witty and… just about as lonely as he was, so better not to go messing it up. Better to try to maintain this one terrible friendship — the only one he had that wasn't with a "work friend", or a cat. It was just a really difficult thing to do, between the unrepenting workdays and restless nights filled with dreams of his beautiful Maker-damned face.

 Dorian, however, was remarkably good at being his friend. He always managed to make time. Drew it out of thin air, it seemed, conjured it up like magic between his press conferences and business trips. He had this impossibly serendipitous way of always seeming to send a text offering to meet for coffee right as Anders' break was coming up, and thanks to his own life of impossible hours he was always amenable to a spot of caffeine well into the evening. Other times, he'd offer up an address, saying "meet me here tonight if by the end of your shift you're still alive", and Anders would reply "doubtful", and then show up later anyway to the movie theater, or concert hall, or burlesque playhouse, only to fall asleep in his seat once the lights went down — which, at the burlesque playhouse at least, everyone seemed to find incredibly amusing.

 Today, his shift would be finished at an uncommonly early hour, having started at one that was painfully so. And even though his work-to-sleep ratio for the week was currently hovering at around four to one, when a text came in from Dorian during his break that read simply, "lunch later? Meet me if you have an hour free." He cheerfully replied "I'm off at noon!" And decided to postpone his much-needed afternoon nap. Friends with Dorian, he smiled, terrible decision.

  ----

Anders did not work out. Whatever strength he had he came by naturally, by way of pushing hospital equipment around and running up and down stairs all day. His calves, as a result, were particularly firm, and he had defined, if skinny, biceps. His core was probably strong enough, what with the constant balancing act that was keeping up with his daily life, but if he had wanted abs he would probably have to do something about his diet; more protein, fewer sugary carbs, meals that weren't eaten while standing on a city bus. But a personal beauty routine had always been low on his priority list. If he was looking to impress someone, he usually tried to get his bad jokes and the somewhat trashy rebel-mage aesthetic (which he also came by naturally) to do the job for him. It was not, historically, the best strategy. But he also wasn't looking. Dorian, on the other hand, had beauty routines for his beauty routines. Apparently the way to make up for the sleeplessness of a busy life was to exercise regularly, drink exceptionally expensive vitamin concoctions (despite the fact that his friend, who was a doctor, had told him repeatedly that the vitamins in such quantities were oversaturated, contradictory, and essentially useless), and to apply a laundry list of products to one's skin and hair — that, at least, seemed to work.

And so it was that when Anders showed up at the designated spot, practically asleep on his feet and slouching eagerly off the bus towards the promise of an hour of good company and food, that he discovered that the place Dorian had instructed him to meet at was not a restaurant, or even a coffee shop, but a gym. A gym with wide glass windows facing the street, so that the gorgeous, obviously affluent, gym-membership-holders could sweat it out while on display for the benefit of all the less beautiful and less lucky passersby. Or perhaps it was the other way around, and rich people got a kick out of running in place for their health while watching working folk run breathlessly after the busses that pulled up to the dirty old bus shelter on the street outside. Anders didn't know, he didn't go to gyms. But Dorian did; he went to this gym. He paid an exorbitant membership fee and wore a tight t-shirt branded with the gym's logo while he ran himself sweaty on a treadmill, spraying fancy water into his mouth like he was advertising the stuff, and towelling himself off with the clean white towels provided while still running, panting with the efforts of his impressively athletic exertions. This, Anders discovered by staring at him as he did it, through the clear glass window from the street, his mouth falling open and throat going dry until Dorian spotted him, and he snapped his mouth shut while his cheeks went red. Dorian's cheeks were also red, a bead of sweat dripping down over one in a long glistening trail from his temple. He pressed some buttons on the treadmill, slowed down to a walk, smiled, and waved. Anders, like a dumbfounded puppet on a string, raised his hand and dropped it again, in some approximation of returning the greeting.

Ten minutes later, Dorian met Anders outside the door of the clean, white and minimalist setting of the gym's lobby with his regular (still tight) clothes on and his damp hair fragrant with some kind of rich, flower-infused cream.  

"You got here faster than I expected, sorry you had to wait."

"Good bus timing," Anders shrugged, pointedly not looking at him. One intolerable sensation at a time, and he still smelled amazing.

"You know there's an app for the schedules, GPS tracking and everything." Dorian commented. Why he knew that, when he'd probably never taken public transportation in his life, Anders couldn't guess. But then, Dorian was infinitely more organized than he was; good with schedules. Anders, meanwhile, struggled to keep his own thoughts straight, never mind the kinds of itineraries that Dorian kept. So he just nodded along, certain that he would never remember to check, or even download, the recommended app.

Dorian led them up to the intersection, and pressed the button at the crosswalk, every simple movement somehow upright and deliberate. "So, lunch? I'm starving, there's a great place across the street."

Anders glanced back at the gleaming white and chrome of the gym, and the equally sleek boutiques to either side of it. He frowned, fingering the well-worn leather billfold in his pocket. "How great?" He asked, cautiously.

"Great as in healthy, all vegan food and local produce and the like." Dorian smirked at him, and Anders made the mistake of looking at it. He blushed, and frowned some more.

"Oh, great." He said, with very little enthusiasm. A twelve dollar salad and one of those ludicrous vitamin waters, just what he and his malnourished billfold needed.

"You're a doctor, you can't live on cup noodles and granola bars all the time. It sets a bad example." Dorian berated, lightly, in return.

"At least cup noodles have salt." Anders protested, "Maybe too much, but that's better than none at all. And you know organic is just a buzzword, not everything organic is healthier. And the hoops of getting branded "Organic" just make it harder for actual family owned farmers, who grow perfectly healthy crops, to market to sellers," he ranted about it, albeit halfheartedly, until Dorian sighed and shook his head.

"Which is why I said local, not organic. And I've been, I promise they use seasonings. You really think I'd debase myself by dining somewhere that didn't know how to properly use spice?"

Anders grunted, still disapproving.

"It's good, really. You'll like it there, they have cats."

"They have…?" Anders spun to watch Dorian, squinting in confusion at him as he brightened the world about him with another one of those obnoxiously perfect smiles.

"Cats, they're all very tame. You can sit with them while you eat or play with them afterwards. An endeavour of the local animal shelter to help encourage adoption, as I understand it." Dorian explained casually. Then the light changed and he set off walking. Anders followed, significantly less grumpily, though now his stomach was turning flips for an entirely different reason besides hunger.

Forget Kirkwall, actually. Befriending Dorian was, hands down, the absolute worst decision he’d ever made.

[soysaucevictim]

Final week of current stuff~

-

June 20

I woke up before 9AM... somehow. (Itching + heat probs didn’t help.)

I rambled a bit on Twitter about grapefruit, felt a bit risky/curious about eating just a quarter of one this morning. (Was a bit concerned about drug interactions.)

Did some sketches, chatted, did some dishes, and made today’s Hello Fresh meal. Zucchini pomodoro penne bake an enjoyable meal, even moreso thanks to it’s relative ease to make.

I spent a few hours after that- chatting, playing KH, and steaming some leftover zucchini grandma brought us.

(Okay it was late, but I really jumbled up my exercise itinerary today...)

First, Day 25 of the CSP. Level 3, max rest. Counts were fast and form wasn’t stellar... but I’ll accept it. That was nevertheless intense. Also, had a few moments of “but wait, what side am I holding for again?“

Second , Day 25 of the MC. 15′ meditation + OM Mantra. I decided to sit against my bed and let my arms rest in lap. It went alright... got interrupted  twice and had a few moments where I think I was dozing off a bit. I’ll call it done.

Third , today’s DD. 1′ tree pose with EC. Out of order, since I barely remembered to get this one done before calling it a day. Breezy and fun work.

Last , Day 25 of the VP. Level 3, no rest. Pretty fun and breezy. Hip flexors felt it a little, too.

I regretted my decision to break out my 2DS... got to bed way too late again.

-

June 21

I woke up a bit before 2PM.

I believe the first thing I did waking up was accompanying brother to get some Subway. After some YouTube, I got started with today’s exercise.

First, today’s DD. 30 side-to-side lunges with EC. Just about manageable.

Second, Day 26 of the VP. Level 3, 30″. Arms needed some recovery time to work with, but got it done.

(After watching Lord of War, Dinner for Shmucks, and chatting with a friend...)

Third, Day 26 of the CSP. Level 3, max rest. I debated heavily on rain checking it, since it was past midnight. But I did it anyways. Also doable, but I felt I had to try to be a bit more quiet.

Last, Day 26 of the MC. 1′ equal breathing + 15′ meditation. Got a little impatient at the very end. But I did have a few moments of enjoying some ujjayi-style breathing sounds.

I then repeated yesterday’s mistake of playing more 2DS games, despite sense telling me not too... oh well.

-

June 22

I woke up around 2PM.

Ate dinner, just some Chinese fast food. I spent a few hours watching some YouTube and reading some cool SaSi analysis posts before getting started on exercises.

First, today’s DD. 1′ hollow hold with EC. Still not particular fond of this one, but can still manage.

Second, Day 27 of the VP. Level 3, no rest. A bit of stretching stuff, overall quite breezy~

(After chatting and passing some more time to allow food to go down...)

Third, Day 27 of the CSP. Level 3, max rest. That was pretty intense, but it was a good call to stall a bit for more food digestion beforehand. Honestly, quads got a good deal of action with the core/abs. But, consider it done.

Last, Day 27 of the MC. Backup & Restore + 15′ meditation. One thing I always like about B&R is the rush of cool you get after getting out of the second child’s pose. Did doze off a lil during tonight’s session and it took a bit for my right quads to stop trembling from fatigue to stay relatively still. Eventually stopped but did crush my left foot a tiny bit awkwardly (was sitting cross-legged).

After YouTube and some gaming, I decided I would try to actually get to sleep in the green zone. Despite the impulse to play more games crossing my mind. Yay!

-

June 23

... I woke up just shy of 5AM. Had a restless night’s sleep. Got to be PROFOUNDLY itchy. I think ti was because of the heat. =_=

After some deliberation on twitter, I ordered some OTC antihistamines, did some dishes, confirmed an appointment, and followed up on our census response. I then took a nap.

Woke up again at around 3PM.

Tanked my ENTIRE day playing Gemcraft and regretted it.

Got to bed obscenely late again, too.

-

June 24

I woke up before 1PM.

After a bit of YouTube and a phone call from my case manager, I started to play catch-up with my exercise stuff.

First, yesterday’s DD. 2′ jumping Ts with EC. Took a false-start trying to find a sustainable pace. But I eventually I nailed an exact 1/sec pace, 120 reps. "Forbidden Fruit" turned out to be a good tempo to work alongside. (As well as in terms of run-time.) :,D

Second, today’s DD. 20 up/down planks with EC. I went at this as fast as I could so I could get through it. Did wear some long sleeves for it. Elbows still had to look forward to doing more tho. :P

Second, Day 28 of the VP. Level 3, no rest. The heat plus those 2 DDs made this harder than it otherwise would be. Notably, especially at the start - doing balanced leg raises was hard and had a few drop-downs (still a self-imposed challenge there.).

(After a bit of time recovering from that with a bit of rest and pickle juice for electrolytes...)

Third, Day 28 of the CSP. Level 3, max rest. Elbows were not the most happy about more up/downs... but I was able to manage. If barely in the last couple sets.

Second, Day 29 of the VP. Level 3, 30″ rest. Arms were a bit tired after that, and this was an arms day. So I started off with that rest period, did think to close it after a couple sets... but eh. Might as well go a bit easier on myself after everything...

(After a bit of debate on whether to do more doubling up...)

Third, Day 29 of the CSP. Level 2, max rest. Accrued fatigue made me feel like Level 3 wasn’t happening today. Neck strain was probs the worst part to contend with here...

(After some dishes...)

Last, Day 28 of the MC.15′ meditation. I did some slow breaths, counting upward for each inhale/exhale. Had a few brief moments losing count, but doing such does help to maintain a bit more deliberate focus.

After a bit of a headache setting things up, I streamed that chibi!Remus drawing. I wound up pulling an allnighter, by the time I finished it.

-

June 25

After posting that art and doing a bit of gaming, one of the first things I did was take a hot shower. Sleep dep made me feel my tired muscles more... taking a hot shower just now helped that for a bit.

I wound up staying up so I could get to the laundromat as planned and deal with clothes. Afterwards, spent time unpacking some deliveries, taking out the trash/recyclables, making dinner, feeding/watering dog, and putting away my laundry... honestly was too tired to be saddled with all that. But I did what I needed to do.

Very late, but one of the last things I spent energy on today was exercise.

First, today’s DD. 1′ climbers with EC. 130 reps were counted by the end. Given my food choices, I’m glad this was the only exercise on docket that could aggravate the stomach. And even then, it went without much issue.

Second, Day 30 of the Vitality Program. Level 3, no rest. Honestly, the only hard part here was probably the calf raises - given how sore my calves were getting (after those Jumping Ts and no sleep to recover from them). But this was just manageable.

Third, Day 30 of the Core Strength Program. Level 3, 30″ rest This was pretty breezy by this program’s standards. Was arguably too exhausted to mind how high I was targeting for the leg raises, but I won’t dock any points for it.

Last, Day 29 of the MC.15′ meditation + OM Mantra. Because tired, leaned against bed again. Did have a few moments of drifting focus from the mantra. But I did the best I could and appreciate the activity.

I went to bed in the green zone. Because my wall was hit.

-

June 26

I woke up proper around 1PM.

One of the first things I did today was make today’s HF dinner. Hoison-sesame roasted veggie bowls. I was thrilled that dad liked this one, given that he has stated not liking sweet potatoes / yams before. This def speaks to how much of a big deal is in HOW you cook stuff (than only just what's in it).

I then spent time doing dishes, before doing a little bit of exercise.

First, today’s DD. 40 raised leg circles. Just about manageable.

Last, Day 30 of the Meditation Challenge. 20′ meditation. Tried to focus on breathing, but I did have some trouble staying focused on it (was fidgety in thought and with my hands/arms)Observed left leg went to sleep and took a good minute or 2 to normalize sensation. Didn’t stop me from getting up and walking around, KNOWING after the first window where the sensation feels okay you get slammed with weakness/parasthesia. :,D

I then spent some time to clean the kitchen countertops and toilet. Did some logging and video editing before turning in. Pretty late, later than yesterday.

-

Summary of Experience:

I finished both my programs on time, in June 25.

The Vitality Program. was a good warm-up and mostly a breeze to get through! Easily managed Level 3 for the whole program. What I did note was how long I needed to rest between sets.

No rest for 25 days

30″ rest for 5 days (arm-centric days)

The Core Strength Program had a lot of days that kicked my ass a bit. But I’m happy with how far I could take it most of the time. I only needed to knock 2 days down to Level 2 (16 & 29) and did Level 3 for the rest. I also recorded the spread for how long I needed to rest between sets.

No rest for 3 days

30″ rest for 2 days

1′ rest for 5 days

1′30″ rest for 5 days  

Max rest for 20 days

I finished the in Meditation Challenge June 26. This was a good thing to rerun, for many reasons. I did it all to silence. I occasionally experimented with different sitting positions (largely determined by how tired I was). Focused on breath most of the time, counting them a couple times.

[mybumpbirthandbeyond]

Operation Abs of Steel

It’s crazy to think I’m at this point already. I genuinely feel like I’ve blinked and I’m back at the start again. Only this time is so different; this time, I am informed; I have the most incredible team in place already so I’ll be seen so much quicker; and I know what’s to come.

I have probably thought about the first two in person consults since falling pregnant. The first two being my first with Lyndsey, and my first with Gráinne. They are the official starting point for rehab this time around, and will tell me exactly what my separation looks like after a second pregnancy. This is the comparison point for any progress up to the date I have surgery. These will be the hardest hitting – the reality check of how far I have to go and how hard I will have to work. This is the start of an even longer road….

Prior to any consults, I wanted to get started. Most people are probably getting the measure of me by now: I don’t like to sit and do nothing and I like to work hard. The fact that I felt so much better more quickly this time, just increased that desire. I had been in touch with Lorna from Ur Mama Strength (I had done her classes until I was about 35 weeks pregnant). She kindly sent me the postpartum guide she sends all her pregnant women which gave a guide for things like connective breath work, walking and mobility for the first 6 weeks postpartum. I did that as well incorporating some of the stuff I had been doing right up until the week before I had Emily from prehab and of course, my pelvic floor exercises.

The checklist of things that physios look for was in the back of my head when I started. First of all, could I properly carry out the connective breathing and was there any sign of rib flare? I never had rib flare last time and I certainly didn’t pick that out this time either. The appearance of my tummy in general was awful when breathing – wrinkly skin just like an elephant, mind of its’ own, loose skin that is paper thin. Aesthetically, this definitely appears worse this time. I knew I would have to do a self-assessment at some stage and I was pretty nervous about that. I knew it was bad and probably as bad as last time, but the thought of finding out how bad, somehow made me apprehensive.

My hand continued to sink and sink telling me there was little to no tension. I had to use two hands to measure the gap between the rectus muscles and even that wasn’t enough. It seemed to be about 11 fw + at the widest point at rest. This is more or less exactly like last time – the only difference was I didn’t self-assess last time. Knowing that, I had a bit of wobble starting exercises again. Staring at the same ceiling I had for the best part of a year before I fell pregnant, but knowing I was back lying on my back really overwhelmed me. Knowing how long it took, and how much hard work I put in to get to where I was, it was pretty difficult to imagine being able to do that again, starting from scratch. But I shook it off. What made me progress last time to the point that I did? Not sitting around feeling sorry for myself that’s for sure (though I allowed myself that once or twice on the really bad days). It was gritty determination, competitiveness, stubbornness, and unwavering resolve that got me to where I needed to be. I couldn’t change that about me if I tried so there’s no way I won’t get back to where I was, if not even further.

Prior to my first in person consult, I had a virtual consult with the team. This was actually scheduled for the week I had Emily, thinking it would be my last one before the baby was born. When she arrived early, we decided to push it a few weeks. We ended up looking at a few things. I’m not entirely sure what they expected to see, but one of the exercises was one Antony said many people would be shocked by at 2.5 weeks postpartum. I struggled to see what was shocking about it – without meaning it in a boastful way, it felt easy. The good news was the initial signs were promising – I was clearly managing to generate tension and control the pressure well considering where I was at. We booked in my next consult for after my appointment with Lyndsey.

In the lead up to my appointment with Lyndsey, I started to test my ability to manage the pressure based on what I had done in the virtual consult. Headlifts felt fine and I also did a few more challenging things like birddog and introducing resistance to some of the exercises. Most of the time I could see the exercises were manageable. Birddog was a funny one – it felt like there was lots of pressure, but it didn’t feel that different to being in standing. It was pretty hard to feel and do the exercise at the same time so I got my husband to check – by this point he’s about as knowledgeable as I am! (though I still have the edge 😉) We agreed that gravity didn’t help and it was likely any additional pressure was not doming, but the weight of my organs falling forward. One of the many things I have learned from my physios is the pressure is visible when I am just standing doing nothing – that’s why my tummy protrudes. If that’s the case, if there is little to no change when doing more challenging core exercises, what’s to stop me from doing those exercises? I can’t prevent or stop the pressure when standing or sitting down, so what’s the difference?

It’s lessons like that that have made the world of difference to how I view this journey. I have learned so much already, and despite not knowing a thing last time, I wouldn’t have risked trying anything until I was seen by someone who was qualified to tell me. This time, I know enough to try things myself without bothering my physios for a simple yes or no.

My appointment with Lyndsey felt like an exam day in some ways. I had this nervous apprehension and kept clock watching until the appointment time. Don’t get me wrong, I am excited to see what happens as time goes on, but as I said, the first appointments will be the hardest. I think my experience of being asked when I was due the previous day hadn’t helped. You feel ashamed, self-conscious and like crap to put it bluntly. It knocks your confidence and just demonstrates how much work there is to do.

I had been really worried about prolapse this time around. There’s something about being blissfully ignorant that can be comforting. The fact that I see posts on prolapse all the time and how your chances increase the more children you have, did not help. That’s probably a positive indication of how much more readily available this information now is on social media. My birth was very lucky in that I only grazed this time instead of needing another episiotomy so it had made a lot of difference, but there was still an initial heavy feeling for the first few weeks. I had stopped bleeding earlier than I had with Cailean, but I’m pretty certain I’ve already had a cycle as I started bleeding again almost as soon as it had stopped. Us females are so lucky….🙄🤦🏽‍♀️

I had been doing my pelvic floor exercises as I said, but I was still a bit worried when it came to the pelvic floor check. It’s so integral to the core and what will be my rehab, that it was important to know exactly what was going on. Thankfully it was good news – good contraction and release, no damage to the muscle and no indication of any prolapse. My endurance could be better, but I’ll build that back up again, just like I did last time.

The tummy assessment was unsurprising. 11fw + was what Lyndsey also found at rest. Tension was awful as her hand also sank down to my bowel. On contraction when I did a crunch, above the belly button was 4 fw, at the belly button was 8 fw and below was 6 fw. Lyndsey had the impression my tummy looked better in standing but we both agreed there was next to no elasticity in the skin, particularly above my waistband and below my belly button. As Lyndsey pointed out, this could get worse as we improve the tummy itself and the only way this will be fixed will be when I have surgery.

I was asked to fill out the outcome measures as a mark of where I’m at mentally. I have been filling in two regularly for Gráinne, but by the time I’m finished, I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t a single pelvic health outcome measure that I haven’t completed!!

We were then able to go into the hospital gym to try out some exercises. Lyndsey had spoken to Gráinne and they had come up with a plan. It once again dawned on me how lucky I am – how many people do you hear of who end up with a team of physios all more than willing to collaborate and work together in your best interests? Unbelievable.

The basic exercises all have their place, but as I’ve said before, they are the ones I hate – they make me feel incapable and like I’m really weak. I expected to do progressions of these – such as introducing resistance to the likes of clams or glute bridges. The fact I was able to do things like birddog with resistance, bear holds and lunges with theraband was a pleasant surprise – I was starting at a further point than last time. To me, that indicates things will hopefully move quicker, and I will progress sooner, which is everything I hoped for this time around. The reigns are firmly on at this point so I’m only to do rehab 3 - 4 times per week, but I expected that. Plus, it’s harder to fit in with two kids so probably not a bad thing!

I came out of the appointment with my confidence back. It’s amazing what seeing someone in person and being able to try things out while being assessed does for your mindset. I had taken being in person consults for granted. I think the toll my second pregnancy had taken on me mentally during lockdown and the fact I had only been seen twice in person throughout the entire duration had also played a part. Don’t get me wrong, I have made great progress through previous virtual appointments, but when you’re dealing with something physical, there is no substitute for someone being able to put their hands on you.

Getting started was one of the most important things to me. The apprehension of not knowing what the diagnosis was and where I would be rehab wise, was only going to be counteracted by the fact I would be back in control once I got started. I am the master of my own fate now – the progress will be dependent on me putting in the work. As I’ve said before, this is what I thrive on – the pressure I put on myself to succeed and the fact I will work harder than ever to ensure that I do. The goals I have set this time around are ambitious and will be challenging, but I have plenty of time and to be honest, I need a challenge to remain focused. Rehab 2.0/Operation Abs of Steel starts now.

[nithyatries]

Nov 9, 2018

 Somehow, this week was even more unproductive than the last. I need to start saying no to social engagements, spend less time online, and exercise more. Definitely have been putting on weight. I wish I could feel depressed and sad but mostly I feel tired and nothing. In 2015, at least I’d have intrusive thoughts re: being punched in the face and gut repeatedly -- now I have none/zero/silent levels of interiority. Boring. Had a lengthy conversation with AD last night about DB, now feel fucked up and stupid again. I think I need to stay away from men until I can figure out what I want. Like RG once said, I have to figure out how to discard the expectation of immediate intimacy.  I keep thinking about my conversation with NS. Is it useful to have a list of core values and expectations you have from a partner? Or is that too formulaic, does that behavior necessitate treating people like commodities with quantifiable desirable traits? And once you’ve found someone, isn’t their character fundamentally mutable? See: DB, who I had firmly decided was the perfect person for the longest time, quickly turning ugly and cruel. See: me, turning impatient and unrecognizable and equally cruel.  Dec 23 2017, a letter from DB:  Mutual emotional obligations, including the obligation to hear about one's mistakes, end after a breakup. Neither of us owe each other critiques. Neither of us has to listen to the other's complaints. And yet here we are. You're still sending me messages, and I am writing another letter. So why is it that, despite a clear ending and repeated denunciations of the other's personality, we're still sniping? Why am I still so upset? Why are you? The answer, as best I can tell, is that when you're with someone for a long time (a year-and-a-half) and when you view that person as a potential long-term partner (which at least I did), their absence is acutely felt. Deep ties and connections, behavioral patterns, and feelings that were built on top of someone else suddenly collapse in their absence, and sometimes the only thing that can rush into the emotional void is hurt and anger. And so intense bonds have a strange and painful afterlife, where reciprocal affection is replaced by tears and rage. Of course, anger is a poor substitute for love, and so the longing and melancholy persists, sometimes in the subtlest of ways. It's the reason I keep going through old photos of us, early messages, and remembering the girl who I thought- as recently as two months ago- that I would inevitably wind up alongside. The sharp, funny, and fast-witted girl who made even long car rides feel breezy. The girl with whom I have countless adventures and attendant fond memories. I like to think that somewhere, that girl still exists. 

12:50am:

Ab jo aaye ho tho thehro ki koi rang, koi rut, koi shai Ek jagah par thehre Phir ek baar har ek cheez wohi ho ki jo hai Aasmaan hadd-e-nazar, raahguzar-raahguzar, sheesha-e-mai- sheesha-e-mai Tired, sad, off. Hung out with DG’s bf, then went to dinner at UM’s. His colleagues were over, we talked about their work -- which was interesting to listen to, but mostly made me feel like a bad listener. I started thinking about how much passive listening I do at law school and how little I want to do that in my actual life. Was stupid and stopped by a bar where DG was hanging with her bf, PC + roommate. I am bad at blurry lines, and the entire situation stressed me out, and I am not sure I can see him again. I know the person I am, games are hard and stressful and not worth it for me, I am not EK despite spending a year convincing myself that I was. I care about him, but not nearly enough to hang on for months more of trying to figure out how he feels about me and imagining the worst case scenario. &, perhaps most significantly, he doesn’t really communicate very much, so it is entirely possible that I will have to guess forever. 

[apsbicepstraining]

A ‘radical alternative’: how one boy changed the sensing of Los Angeles

In the 1960 s, British architectural critic Reyner Banham affirmed his love for the city that his fellow academics hated. What Banham wrote about Los Angeles redefined how the world perceived it but what would he think of LA today?

Now I know subjective rulings can go, the writer Adam Raphael wrote in the Guardian in 1968, but personally I anticipate LA as the noisiest, the smelliest, “the worlds largest” uncomfortable and most uncivilised major metropolitan in the United States. In short, a stinking sewer …

Three years later, Raphaels terms appeared in publish again as an epigraph of Reyner Banhams Los Angeles: The Architecture of Four Ecologies “the worlds largest” exuberantly pro-Los Angeles journal ever written. Ever since brochure, it has shown up on registers of great volumes about modern metropolitans even those is drawing up by people who believe Los Angeles anything but a great American city.

Somehow, this notebook that described so much of its initial advertisement with startle appraise( In Praise (!) of Los Angeles, gibed the New York Times refreshes headline) has retained its relevant through the activities of the decade, such that newly arrived Angelenos still read it to familiarize themselves. But what can it school us about the Los Angeles of today?

An architectural historian a decade into his vocation when he firstly called, Banham knew full-well that his fellow academics hated Los Angeles. How and why he himself came so avidly to appreciate it constitutes the core question of his work on the city, which culminated in this slim volume.

The many who were ready to cast doubt on the value of the enterprise, he reflected in its last chapter, included a distinguished Italian designer and his wife who, on discovering that I was writing this notebook, doubted that anyone who cared for building could lower himself to such a project and keep walking without a word further.

The project began when Banham fetched his shaggy beard and wonky teeth to Los Angeles and was indicated that he adored the city with a rage, in the words of novelist and Bradford-born Los Angeles expat Richard Rayner. Teaching at the University of Southern California, who employed him up in the Greene friends architecturally venerated Gamble House in Pasadena, Banham had a privileged base from which to explore. But what he went go looking for, and the space he wrote about what “hes seen” and experienced, redefined the route the academic macrocosm and then the wider world saw the city.

Reyner Banham with his shaggy beard and wonky teeth in 1968. Photo: Peter Johns for the Guardian

Not that he testified his love right there on the tarmac at LAX. Banham initially met the city incomprehensible a answer shared by many commentators, wrote Nigel Whiteley in the study Reyner Banham: Historian of the Immediate Future.

Banham firstly attempted to publicly explain this cutting-edge metropolis, saturated across its tremendous infinite with electronic designs, synthetic chemicals and televisions, in four 1968 BBC radio talks. He told of how “hes come to” controls with LAs embodiment of the experimental: its experimental shape and infrastructure, the combinations of cultures it accommodated, and the experimental life-styles to which it gave rise.

But even an appreciator like Banham had his qualms with the result. In Los Angeles you tend to go to a particular place to do a specific occasion, to another to do another thing, and finally a long way back to your home, and youve done 100 miles in the day, he deplored in the third talk. The distances and the trust on mechanical transportation leave no chamber for accident even for joyous coincidences. You plan the working day in advance, programme your activities, and forgo those random encounters with friends and strangers that are traditionally one of the rewards of metropolitan life.

Nevertheless, to Banham this un-city-like city impounded out a promise: The unique quality of Los Angeles what rouses, intrigues and sometimes opposes me is the fact that it volunteers progressive alternatives to almost every city abstraction in unquestioned currency.

In his subsequent landmark book, Banham itemized Los Angeles deviations from traditional urbanism, as well as from all the rules for civilised living as they have been understood by the scholars of modernity, with obvious enthrall. It seemed to legitimise a modeling “youve already”, in a 1959 section, proposed to supplant the old thought of a single dense core surrounded by a wall.

Civilised living in suburban LA. Photo: University of Southern California/ Corbis via Getty Images

Banham foresaw the city as scrambled egg, its shell cracked open, its business yolk mixed with its domestic white, and everything spread across the landscape, its evenness shaken merely by occasional specialised sub-centres. A visitor to Los Angeles today might discover the city explained in only the same space: as a network of nodes, a constellation of urban villages, training exercises in postmodern polycentrism.

Banham introduced another finger in the eye of conservatives who insisted that a city should have just one strong centre with his short assembly A Note on Downtown, which opens with the words, … because that is all downtown Los Angeles deserves.

From its fetishised organizes such as the Bradbury Building and Cathedral of Saint Vibiana to its brand new role towers in their standard livery of dark glass and steel, Banham wrote that everything platforms as an unintegrated scrap in a downtown panorama that began to disintegrate long ago out of sheer irrelevance, as far as one can see.

The books contrarianism manifests the contrarianism of Los Angeles itself, which, insofar as it plays the functions of a great city, in terms of length, cosmopolitan form, creative power, international force, peculiar way of life, and corporate temperament[ supports that] all the most admired theorists of the current century, from the Futurists and Le Corbusier to Jane Jacobs and Sibyl Moholy-Nagy, have been wrong.

Filled with photos and diagrams, Banhams book on Los Angeles subdivides its subject up into the four ecologies of its subtitle: the beaches and beach cities of Surfurbia; the Foothills with their ever more elaborate and expensive residences; the utilitarian Plains of Id( the only parts of Los Angeles flat enough and assuming enough to compare with the cities of the Middle West) and the far-famed, then infamous, freeway structure he dubbed Autopia: a single comprehensible home, a coherent state of mind in which Angelenos expend the two calmest and most fruitful hours of their daily lives.

The 1893 Bradbury Building in downtown LA was an unintegrated fragment in Banhams eyes. Photograph: Michele and Tom Grimm/ Alamy

Between sections on the citys ecologies, Banham examined the buildings found in them. Populist, stylistically promiscuous, tradition-agnostic and often deliberately impermanent, Los Angeles architecture has, of all the citys components, sucked distain the longest. There is no reward for aesthetic dignity here , no sanction for aesthetic misdemeanour; nothing but a enormous planetary carelessnes, wrote the novelist James M. Cain in 1933.

More than 40 year later, Banham accompanied a stylistic bounty of Tacoburger Aztec to Wavy-line Moderne, from Cape Cod to unsupported Jaoul roofs, from Gourmet Mansardic to Polynesian Gabled and even in tip Modern Architecture.

He discussed at length the LA building known as the dingbat a two-storey walk-up apartment-block … built of grove and stuccoed over, all same at the back but inexpensively, elaborately, decorated up-front, decorated with an aspirational mention such as the Capri or the Starlet.

In characterizing dingbats as the real evidence of Los Angeles urban id, trying to cope with the unprecedented illusion of residential concentrations too high to be subsumed within the apparitions of homestead living, Banham diagnosed the center and lingering friction, then as now, between wanting to grow outward and needing to grow upward.

Banham sucked out the implications of Los Angeles ostensibly disposable houses not by adoring them , nor denigrating them, but simply by experiencing them because they are. Robert Venturi, Denise Scott Brown and Steven Izenour would advocate the same approaching in their own urban classic, Learning from Las Vegas, written the following year: Withholding judgment may be used as a tool to form later ruling most sensitive. This is a way of learning from everything.

Still, even appreciators of Los Angeles might take issue with this method when Banhams non-judgmental attitude at the least toward the esthetics of American commercial culture starts to look like advocacy for bad taste.

The self-absorbed and perfected Watts Towers. Picture: Hulton Archive/ Getty Images

Non-appreciators of Los Angeles surely did. The painter and critic Peter Plagens, generator of an 11,000 -word excoriation in Artforum magazine entitled The Ecology of Evil, exited thus far as to description Banhams book dangerous: The hackers who do shopping mall, Hawaiian eateries and savings-and-loans, the dried-up civil servant in the separation of highways, and the legions of showbiz fringies will sleep a little easier and task a little harder now that their enterprises have been authenticated. In a more human civilization where Banhams doctrines would be measured against the subdividers rape of the territory and the pas specks in little kids lungs, the author might be countenanced up against a wall and shot.

Uncowed, Banham followed the book by starring in Reyner Banham Loves Los Angeles, a 1972 television documentary that followed him through one day in the city that represents absurdity of history and interruption all the rules, and stimulated within him a passion that moving beyond gumption or reason. Stops on the tour included Simon Rodias handmade Watts Towers( a absolutely self-absorbed and perfected monument) to Los Angeles characteristic fantasize of innocence( prominently recognized on all the maps in his book ); the overgrown sections of the old-time Pacific Electric Railways rusting rails that once tied the whole gigantic metropoli together; the decrepit canals and beachside bodybuilding facilities of Venice; and a Sunset Boulevard drive-in burger joint.

There, Banham asked the painter Ed Ruscha, plainspoken and painstaking spectator of American city cliche, what public buildings a visitor should attend. Ruscha recommended gas stations.

Banham pre-empted dissents to Los Angeles urban anatomy by claiming the anatomy materials very little, had now been written that Los Angeles has no metropolitan way at all in the commonly accepted feel. Yet whatever it does have, he indicated, has induced a fascinating, and sometimes even efficient, adjusted of emergent urban phenomena.

Come the day when the pollution fate eventually condescends, he chronicled over aerial films of Wilshire Boulevards double row of towers and frame-filling neighbourhoods of separated homes, … when trafficking in human beings grinds to a stall and the private car is banned from the street, quite a lot of craftily targeted citizens will be able to switch over to being pedestrians and detect no pain.

Cyclists on Venice Beach … though often of LA is not bike-friendly. Photograph: Alamy

The end of the car in Los Angeles? Bold terms for the man who announced Wilshire Boulevard one of the few great streets in the world where driving is a pleasure when you have, like earlier generations of English academics who learn themselves Italian in order to read Dante in the original, “ve learned to” drive in order to speak Los Angeles in the original.

But just as the languages listen on the street of Los Angeles have multiplied, its own language of mobility has changed there, as has much else besides. How legible would Banham, who perished in 1988 , now find it?

The smog that believed bane of the citys postwar decades which he always minimise has all but vanished. The occasion of apparently inexhaustible seat to satisfy an infatuation with single-family dwellings has given lane to one of building cranes sprouting to satisfy the new is asking for high-density horizontal living. They hold not just over a downtown heighten miraculously from the dead, but the specialised sub-centres scattered all over greater Los Angeles.

Though the ban on private cars hasnt come yet , no recent development astonishes any Angeleno who was there in the 1970 s more than the citys new runway transit system, which started to emerge almost 30 years after the end of the Pacific Electric. It grades as such as a success for financing, planning and implementation( at least by the globally unimpressive American standard) that the rest of the country now ogles to Los Angeles as an example of how to build public transportation and, increasingly, public cavity in general.

Readers might scoff at Banham calling the Los Angeles freeway network one of the greater projects of guy but he has demonstrated more of an ability to see beyond it than numerous current observers of Los Angeles. Even though it is vastly better than any other motorway arrangement of my acquaintance, he wrote, it is inconceivable to Angelenos that it should not be replaced by an even better organisation nearer to the perfection they are always seeking.

Banham experienced downtown Los Angeles only deserved a short assembly devote to it. Photograph: Alamy

Banham also saw the rise of the self-driving car, so often mooted these days as an alternative solution to Los Angeles traffic woes. But cars that drive themselves( as distinct from Baede-kar a then-fantastical spokesperson sailing arrangement dreamed up for Banhams TV doc, that produces an uncanny resemblance to those every American driver uses today) “re coming with” troubles that Banham also predicted all those years ago. The marginal amplifications in efficiency through automation, he wrote, might be offset by the psychological destitutions caused by destroying the residual illusions of free decision and driving skill.

Under each outwardly celebratory sheet of Banhams book lies the notion of change as Los Angeles merely constant: no matter how excitingly modern the car and the pike, the working day will come to an end; no matter how comfortably idyllic the disconnected mansion, it extremely must fall out of promotion, or into impracticality, sooner or later.

Some of the elements that drew Banhams attention have, after their own periods of disfavour, returned fashionable again. Even the humble dingbat has find a residence in the future of the city, becoming the subject matter of critical examine and architectural race.

Banham also ensure the future of Los Angeles in other unprepossessing structures, especially one stunning and elegantly simple stucco container on La Cienega Boulevard. Its designer? A particular Frank Gehry, then virtually unknown but now one of the stronger influencers of the constructed surrounding in not only Los Angeles( its most recent high-profile activity implies re-making the citys famously dry, concrete-encased flow ), but other municipalities as well. The Toronto-born starchitect grew his adopted hometowns architectural emissary only one of the myriad lanes in which Los Angeles has influenced the rest of the city world-wide.

These daytimes, the rest of the city world also influences Los Angeles. No longer striving under the delusions of total exceptionalism which prevails in Banhams day, it has, with its towers, improves, commons and even bike-share structures, constructed paces toward the liveability so demanded by 21 st-century urbanists. It now even resembles( if faintly) New York, Boston, London, and Paris those exhaustively projected , non-experimental municipalities where, Banham deplored, warring pressure groups cannot get out of each other hair why i am pressed together in a hallowed labyrinth of cultural statues and real estate values.

In its impressive dictation to incorporate older metropolitan moralities and play by the rules of good urban issues, modern Los Angeles rejects the possibility of setting up becoming a similarly sacred labyrinth at its peril. Retaining Banhams Los Angeles: the Architecture of Four Ecologies on its syllabus will hopefully protect against the dire fate of losing its rule-breaking experimental urban spirit.

The engineering-trained writer regarded Los Angeles as a kind of machine. Though it has come in for a seriously needed overhaul of its interface in recent years , nothing has already been written a useds manual more engaged in the city on its own terms as Banham did 45 years ago.

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[moscowmusings]

My journey to fitness: TRX and pump

Last timeI wrote about the workouts I’ve tried at home, such as P90X and Les Mills. This week I will talk about the gym classes I’ve tried. Some time in December of 2015 a friend of mine told me about this class that she wanted to try, so we both decided to sign up for a trial class. The hard part being over, I had no choice but to go to my scheduled class two weeks later. And I fell in love.

At the time, the place where these TRX classes were held was a tiny basement studio that wasn’t too well ventilated, but I still went 2-3 times a week. It was great because I got a full-body workout and it was a great way to relieve some stress after work.

The way these classes were structured was arms, legs then abs, rinse and repeat five times. Every Wednesday was two long rounds. TRX really gets through to your core and works the sweet molasses out of it. A few weeks in, I was already feeling stronger, my posture was getting better. A few months later and I felt like I could kick some a** and hold a plank for ages. That’s when I started to feel like I needed more and began running.

The problem with the TRX class I was going to was the trainer, to be quite honest. When I started going, this was a small studio in the basement with 7 spots per class with four classes a night. This was when the trainer paid attention to the people in the class and tried to mix it up. Some months later they moved to a larger space, with up to 16 spots a class, and that’s when we lost him. It’s a lot harder to keep track of 16 people, and he pretty much already knew the regulars were doing everything right and rarely checked on us. It all really depends on the trainer you have. I still love it, and might get a set of TRX loops in the future for myself. At the time the winter was setting in, and I got a gym membership solely to use the treadmills. The TRX studio I was going to had also raised prices, so I was forced to choose between TRX or running in the gym. I chose the gym. And that’s where my story of going to pump class begins.

This was probably the most fun I’d had in a gym class for a while. On one of my sister’s visits here, I got her a two week membership to my gym and we went together in an attempt to keep off the winter holiday weight. At one point she said “let’s try one of these classes in the schedule” and it happened to be pump class, which Im guessing is what the gym named a class based on the Bodypump program.

This class uses barbells mixed with simple exercises, and I have to say it got me the best results. Instantly I went down in size and weight because I was mixing running 2-3 times a week with a once a week pump class. The exercises included squats, split squats, deadlifts, bicep curls, lying down tricep stuff and we usually finished off with ten minutes of abs. This is a class I would recommend to those who are looking to add a strength routine to their cardio for best results. Doing just cardio or just strength doesn’t really get you the balanced results you’re most likely seeking.

If you’re currently saying “noooo, I don’t like squats” let me tell you a secret, NEITHER DID I. It was amazing how much I used to hate squats. But the second you begin to notice your legs getting more and more toned and the amazing definition you get only from squats, you will love them. They’re not even that bad if you’re doing them right. For me, somehow adding the weight to my squats made me pay more attention to my form and I started doing them correctly. For runners, any leg strength exercise is magical.

In the end, between TRX and Pump, I would probably pick…

…

I really don’t know, they’re both great programs. If you’re running and looking for a strength program, pump is great, but if you’re not a runner and just want an overall workout, I would probably go for TRX. Although, from someone who has been down that path, you’ll start running soon enough because after a few months TRX three times a week won’t be enough. Once you start this workout thing, you won’t be able to live without that sweet exhaustion that comes after each workout.

Check back next week for the next installment of this series, I will yammer on and on about running and how much my ankles and knees hate it, but my lungs, brain and probably heart love it!!

[apsbicepstraining]

A ‘radical alternative’: how one boy changed the sensing of Los Angeles

In the 1960 s, British architectural critic Reyner Banham affirmed his love for the city that his fellow academics hated. What Banham wrote about Los Angeles redefined how the world perceived it but what would he think of LA today?

Now I know subjective rulings can go, the writer Adam Raphael wrote in the Guardian in 1968, but personally I anticipate LA as the noisiest, the smelliest, “the worlds largest” uncomfortable and most uncivilised major metropolitan in the United States. In short, a stinking sewer …

Three years later, Raphaels terms appeared in publish again as an epigraph of Reyner Banhams Los Angeles: The Architecture of Four Ecologies “the worlds largest” exuberantly pro-Los Angeles journal ever written. Ever since brochure, it has shown up on registers of great volumes about modern metropolitans even those is drawing up by people who believe Los Angeles anything but a great American city.

Somehow, this notebook that described so much of its initial advertisement with startle appraise( In Praise (!) of Los Angeles, gibed the New York Times refreshes headline) has retained its relevant through the activities of the decade, such that newly arrived Angelenos still read it to familiarize themselves. But what can it school us about the Los Angeles of today?

An architectural historian a decade into his vocation when he firstly called, Banham knew full-well that his fellow academics hated Los Angeles. How and why he himself came so avidly to appreciate it constitutes the core question of his work on the city, which culminated in this slim volume.

The many who were ready to cast doubt on the value of the enterprise, he reflected in its last chapter, included a distinguished Italian designer and his wife who, on discovering that I was writing this notebook, doubted that anyone who cared for building could lower himself to such a project and keep walking without a word further.

The project began when Banham fetched his shaggy beard and wonky teeth to Los Angeles and was indicated that he adored the city with a rage, in the words of novelist and Bradford-born Los Angeles expat Richard Rayner. Teaching at the University of Southern California, who employed him up in the Greene friends architecturally venerated Gamble House in Pasadena, Banham had a privileged base from which to explore. But what he went go looking for, and the space he wrote about what “hes seen” and experienced, redefined the route the academic macrocosm and then the wider world saw the city.

Reyner Banham with his shaggy beard and wonky teeth in 1968. Photo: Peter Johns for the Guardian

Not that he testified his love right there on the tarmac at LAX. Banham initially met the city incomprehensible a answer shared by many commentators, wrote Nigel Whiteley in the study Reyner Banham: Historian of the Immediate Future.

Banham firstly attempted to publicly explain this cutting-edge metropolis, saturated across its tremendous infinite with electronic designs, synthetic chemicals and televisions, in four 1968 BBC radio talks. He told of how “hes come to” controls with LAs embodiment of the experimental: its experimental shape and infrastructure, the combinations of cultures it accommodated, and the experimental life-styles to which it gave rise.

But even an appreciator like Banham had his qualms with the result. In Los Angeles you tend to go to a particular place to do a specific occasion, to another to do another thing, and finally a long way back to your home, and youve done 100 miles in the day, he deplored in the third talk. The distances and the trust on mechanical transportation leave no chamber for accident even for joyous coincidences. You plan the working day in advance, programme your activities, and forgo those random encounters with friends and strangers that are traditionally one of the rewards of metropolitan life.

Nevertheless, to Banham this un-city-like city impounded out a promise: The unique quality of Los Angeles what rouses, intrigues and sometimes opposes me is the fact that it volunteers progressive alternatives to almost every city abstraction in unquestioned currency.

In his subsequent landmark book, Banham itemized Los Angeles deviations from traditional urbanism, as well as from all the rules for civilised living as they have been understood by the scholars of modernity, with obvious enthrall. It seemed to legitimise a modeling “youve already”, in a 1959 section, proposed to supplant the old thought of a single dense core surrounded by a wall.

Civilised living in suburban LA. Photo: University of Southern California/ Corbis via Getty Images

Banham foresaw the city as scrambled egg, its shell cracked open, its business yolk mixed with its domestic white, and everything spread across the landscape, its evenness shaken merely by occasional specialised sub-centres. A visitor to Los Angeles today might discover the city explained in only the same space: as a network of nodes, a constellation of urban villages, training exercises in postmodern polycentrism.

Banham introduced another finger in the eye of conservatives who insisted that a city should have just one strong centre with his short assembly A Note on Downtown, which opens with the words, … because that is all downtown Los Angeles deserves.

From its fetishised organizes such as the Bradbury Building and Cathedral of Saint Vibiana to its brand new role towers in their standard livery of dark glass and steel, Banham wrote that everything platforms as an unintegrated scrap in a downtown panorama that began to disintegrate long ago out of sheer irrelevance, as far as one can see.

The books contrarianism manifests the contrarianism of Los Angeles itself, which, insofar as it plays the functions of a great city, in terms of length, cosmopolitan form, creative power, international force, peculiar way of life, and corporate temperament[ supports that] all the most admired theorists of the current century, from the Futurists and Le Corbusier to Jane Jacobs and Sibyl Moholy-Nagy, have been wrong.

Filled with photos and diagrams, Banhams book on Los Angeles subdivides its subject up into the four ecologies of its subtitle: the beaches and beach cities of Surfurbia; the Foothills with their ever more elaborate and expensive residences; the utilitarian Plains of Id( the only parts of Los Angeles flat enough and assuming enough to compare with the cities of the Middle West) and the far-famed, then infamous, freeway structure he dubbed Autopia: a single comprehensible home, a coherent state of mind in which Angelenos expend the two calmest and most fruitful hours of their daily lives.

The 1893 Bradbury Building in downtown LA was an unintegrated fragment in Banhams eyes. Photograph: Michele and Tom Grimm/ Alamy

Between sections on the citys ecologies, Banham examined the buildings found in them. Populist, stylistically promiscuous, tradition-agnostic and often deliberately impermanent, Los Angeles architecture has, of all the citys components, sucked distain the longest. There is no reward for aesthetic dignity here , no sanction for aesthetic misdemeanour; nothing but a enormous planetary carelessnes, wrote the novelist James M. Cain in 1933.

More than 40 year later, Banham accompanied a stylistic bounty of Tacoburger Aztec to Wavy-line Moderne, from Cape Cod to unsupported Jaoul roofs, from Gourmet Mansardic to Polynesian Gabled and even in tip Modern Architecture.

He discussed at length the LA building known as the dingbat a two-storey walk-up apartment-block … built of grove and stuccoed over, all same at the back but inexpensively, elaborately, decorated up-front, decorated with an aspirational mention such as the Capri or the Starlet.

In characterizing dingbats as the real evidence of Los Angeles urban id, trying to cope with the unprecedented illusion of residential concentrations too high to be subsumed within the apparitions of homestead living, Banham diagnosed the center and lingering friction, then as now, between wanting to grow outward and needing to grow upward.

Banham sucked out the implications of Los Angeles ostensibly disposable houses not by adoring them , nor denigrating them, but simply by experiencing them because they are. Robert Venturi, Denise Scott Brown and Steven Izenour would advocate the same approaching in their own urban classic, Learning from Las Vegas, written the following year: Withholding judgment may be used as a tool to form later ruling most sensitive. This is a way of learning from everything.

Still, even appreciators of Los Angeles might take issue with this method when Banhams non-judgmental attitude at the least toward the esthetics of American commercial culture starts to look like advocacy for bad taste.

The self-absorbed and perfected Watts Towers. Picture: Hulton Archive/ Getty Images

Non-appreciators of Los Angeles surely did. The painter and critic Peter Plagens, generator of an 11,000 -word excoriation in Artforum magazine entitled The Ecology of Evil, exited thus far as to description Banhams book dangerous: The hackers who do shopping mall, Hawaiian eateries and savings-and-loans, the dried-up civil servant in the separation of highways, and the legions of showbiz fringies will sleep a little easier and task a little harder now that their enterprises have been authenticated. In a more human civilization where Banhams doctrines would be measured against the subdividers rape of the territory and the pas specks in little kids lungs, the author might be countenanced up against a wall and shot.

Uncowed, Banham followed the book by starring in Reyner Banham Loves Los Angeles, a 1972 television documentary that followed him through one day in the city that represents absurdity of history and interruption all the rules, and stimulated within him a passion that moving beyond gumption or reason. Stops on the tour included Simon Rodias handmade Watts Towers( a absolutely self-absorbed and perfected monument) to Los Angeles characteristic fantasize of innocence( prominently recognized on all the maps in his book ); the overgrown sections of the old-time Pacific Electric Railways rusting rails that once tied the whole gigantic metropoli together; the decrepit canals and beachside bodybuilding facilities of Venice; and a Sunset Boulevard drive-in burger joint.

There, Banham asked the painter Ed Ruscha, plainspoken and painstaking spectator of American city cliche, what public buildings a visitor should attend. Ruscha recommended gas stations.

Banham pre-empted dissents to Los Angeles urban anatomy by claiming the anatomy materials very little, had now been written that Los Angeles has no metropolitan way at all in the commonly accepted feel. Yet whatever it does have, he indicated, has induced a fascinating, and sometimes even efficient, adjusted of emergent urban phenomena.

Come the day when the pollution fate eventually condescends, he chronicled over aerial films of Wilshire Boulevards double row of towers and frame-filling neighbourhoods of separated homes, … when trafficking in human beings grinds to a stall and the private car is banned from the street, quite a lot of craftily targeted citizens will be able to switch over to being pedestrians and detect no pain.

Cyclists on Venice Beach … though often of LA is not bike-friendly. Photograph: Alamy

The end of the car in Los Angeles? Bold terms for the man who announced Wilshire Boulevard one of the few great streets in the world where driving is a pleasure when you have, like earlier generations of English academics who learn themselves Italian in order to read Dante in the original, “ve learned to” drive in order to speak Los Angeles in the original.

But just as the languages listen on the street of Los Angeles have multiplied, its own language of mobility has changed there, as has much else besides. How legible would Banham, who perished in 1988 , now find it?

The smog that believed bane of the citys postwar decades which he always minimise has all but vanished. The occasion of apparently inexhaustible seat to satisfy an infatuation with single-family dwellings has given lane to one of building cranes sprouting to satisfy the new is asking for high-density horizontal living. They hold not just over a downtown heighten miraculously from the dead, but the specialised sub-centres scattered all over greater Los Angeles.

Though the ban on private cars hasnt come yet , no recent development astonishes any Angeleno who was there in the 1970 s more than the citys new runway transit system, which started to emerge almost 30 years after the end of the Pacific Electric. It grades as such as a success for financing, planning and implementation( at least by the globally unimpressive American standard) that the rest of the country now ogles to Los Angeles as an example of how to build public transportation and, increasingly, public cavity in general.

Readers might scoff at Banham calling the Los Angeles freeway network one of the greater projects of guy but he has demonstrated more of an ability to see beyond it than numerous current observers of Los Angeles. Even though it is vastly better than any other motorway arrangement of my acquaintance, he wrote, it is inconceivable to Angelenos that it should not be replaced by an even better organisation nearer to the perfection they are always seeking.

Banham experienced downtown Los Angeles only deserved a short assembly devote to it. Photograph: Alamy

Banham also saw the rise of the self-driving car, so often mooted these days as an alternative solution to Los Angeles traffic woes. But cars that drive themselves( as distinct from Baede-kar a then-fantastical spokesperson sailing arrangement dreamed up for Banhams TV doc, that produces an uncanny resemblance to those every American driver uses today) “re coming with” troubles that Banham also predicted all those years ago. The marginal amplifications in efficiency through automation, he wrote, might be offset by the psychological destitutions caused by destroying the residual illusions of free decision and driving skill.

Under each outwardly celebratory sheet of Banhams book lies the notion of change as Los Angeles merely constant: no matter how excitingly modern the car and the pike, the working day will come to an end; no matter how comfortably idyllic the disconnected mansion, it extremely must fall out of promotion, or into impracticality, sooner or later.

Some of the elements that drew Banhams attention have, after their own periods of disfavour, returned fashionable again. Even the humble dingbat has find a residence in the future of the city, becoming the subject matter of critical examine and architectural race.

Banham also ensure the future of Los Angeles in other unprepossessing structures, especially one stunning and elegantly simple stucco container on La Cienega Boulevard. Its designer? A particular Frank Gehry, then virtually unknown but now one of the stronger influencers of the constructed surrounding in not only Los Angeles( its most recent high-profile activity implies re-making the citys famously dry, concrete-encased flow ), but other municipalities as well. The Toronto-born starchitect grew his adopted hometowns architectural emissary only one of the myriad lanes in which Los Angeles has influenced the rest of the city world-wide.

These daytimes, the rest of the city world also influences Los Angeles. No longer striving under the delusions of total exceptionalism which prevails in Banhams day, it has, with its towers, improves, commons and even bike-share structures, constructed paces toward the liveability so demanded by 21 st-century urbanists. It now even resembles( if faintly) New York, Boston, London, and Paris those exhaustively projected , non-experimental municipalities where, Banham deplored, warring pressure groups cannot get out of each other hair why i am pressed together in a hallowed labyrinth of cultural statues and real estate values.

In its impressive dictation to incorporate older metropolitan moralities and play by the rules of good urban issues, modern Los Angeles rejects the possibility of setting up becoming a similarly sacred labyrinth at its peril. Retaining Banhams Los Angeles: the Architecture of Four Ecologies on its syllabus will hopefully protect against the dire fate of losing its rule-breaking experimental urban spirit.

The engineering-trained writer regarded Los Angeles as a kind of machine. Though it has come in for a seriously needed overhaul of its interface in recent years , nothing has already been written a useds manual more engaged in the city on its own terms as Banham did 45 years ago.

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A ‘radical alternative’: how one boy changed the sensing of Los Angeles

In the 1960 s, British architectural critic Reyner Banham affirmed his love for the city that his fellow academics hated. What Banham wrote about Los Angeles redefined how the world perceived it but what would he think of LA today?

Now I know subjective rulings can go, the writer Adam Raphael wrote in the Guardian in 1968, but personally I anticipate LA as the noisiest, the smelliest, “the worlds largest” uncomfortable and most uncivilised major metropolitan in the United States. In short, a stinking sewer …

Three years later, Raphaels terms appeared in publish again as an epigraph of Reyner Banhams Los Angeles: The Architecture of Four Ecologies “the worlds largest” exuberantly pro-Los Angeles journal ever written. Ever since brochure, it has shown up on registers of great volumes about modern metropolitans even those is drawing up by people who believe Los Angeles anything but a great American city.

Somehow, this notebook that described so much of its initial advertisement with startle appraise( In Praise (!) of Los Angeles, gibed the New York Times refreshes headline) has retained its relevant through the activities of the decade, such that newly arrived Angelenos still read it to familiarize themselves. But what can it school us about the Los Angeles of today?

An architectural historian a decade into his vocation when he firstly called, Banham knew full-well that his fellow academics hated Los Angeles. How and why he himself came so avidly to appreciate it constitutes the core question of his work on the city, which culminated in this slim volume.

The many who were ready to cast doubt on the value of the enterprise, he reflected in its last chapter, included a distinguished Italian designer and his wife who, on discovering that I was writing this notebook, doubted that anyone who cared for building could lower himself to such a project and keep walking without a word further.

The project began when Banham fetched his shaggy beard and wonky teeth to Los Angeles and was indicated that he adored the city with a rage, in the words of novelist and Bradford-born Los Angeles expat Richard Rayner. Teaching at the University of Southern California, who employed him up in the Greene friends architecturally venerated Gamble House in Pasadena, Banham had a privileged base from which to explore. But what he went go looking for, and the space he wrote about what “hes seen” and experienced, redefined the route the academic macrocosm and then the wider world saw the city.

Reyner Banham with his shaggy beard and wonky teeth in 1968. Photo: Peter Johns for the Guardian

Not that he testified his love right there on the tarmac at LAX. Banham initially met the city incomprehensible a answer shared by many commentators, wrote Nigel Whiteley in the study Reyner Banham: Historian of the Immediate Future.

Banham firstly attempted to publicly explain this cutting-edge metropolis, saturated across its tremendous infinite with electronic designs, synthetic chemicals and televisions, in four 1968 BBC radio talks. He told of how “hes come to” controls with LAs embodiment of the experimental: its experimental shape and infrastructure, the combinations of cultures it accommodated, and the experimental life-styles to which it gave rise.

But even an appreciator like Banham had his qualms with the result. In Los Angeles you tend to go to a particular place to do a specific occasion, to another to do another thing, and finally a long way back to your home, and youve done 100 miles in the day, he deplored in the third talk. The distances and the trust on mechanical transportation leave no chamber for accident even for joyous coincidences. You plan the working day in advance, programme your activities, and forgo those random encounters with friends and strangers that are traditionally one of the rewards of metropolitan life.

Nevertheless, to Banham this un-city-like city impounded out a promise: The unique quality of Los Angeles what rouses, intrigues and sometimes opposes me is the fact that it volunteers progressive alternatives to almost every city abstraction in unquestioned currency.

In his subsequent landmark book, Banham itemized Los Angeles deviations from traditional urbanism, as well as from all the rules for civilised living as they have been understood by the scholars of modernity, with obvious enthrall. It seemed to legitimise a modeling “youve already”, in a 1959 section, proposed to supplant the old thought of a single dense core surrounded by a wall.

Civilised living in suburban LA. Photo: University of Southern California/ Corbis via Getty Images

Banham foresaw the city as scrambled egg, its shell cracked open, its business yolk mixed with its domestic white, and everything spread across the landscape, its evenness shaken merely by occasional specialised sub-centres. A visitor to Los Angeles today might discover the city explained in only the same space: as a network of nodes, a constellation of urban villages, training exercises in postmodern polycentrism.

Banham introduced another finger in the eye of conservatives who insisted that a city should have just one strong centre with his short assembly A Note on Downtown, which opens with the words, … because that is all downtown Los Angeles deserves.

From its fetishised organizes such as the Bradbury Building and Cathedral of Saint Vibiana to its brand new role towers in their standard livery of dark glass and steel, Banham wrote that everything platforms as an unintegrated scrap in a downtown panorama that began to disintegrate long ago out of sheer irrelevance, as far as one can see.

The books contrarianism manifests the contrarianism of Los Angeles itself, which, insofar as it plays the functions of a great city, in terms of length, cosmopolitan form, creative power, international force, peculiar way of life, and corporate temperament[ supports that] all the most admired theorists of the current century, from the Futurists and Le Corbusier to Jane Jacobs and Sibyl Moholy-Nagy, have been wrong.

Filled with photos and diagrams, Banhams book on Los Angeles subdivides its subject up into the four ecologies of its subtitle: the beaches and beach cities of Surfurbia; the Foothills with their ever more elaborate and expensive residences; the utilitarian Plains of Id( the only parts of Los Angeles flat enough and assuming enough to compare with the cities of the Middle West) and the far-famed, then infamous, freeway structure he dubbed Autopia: a single comprehensible home, a coherent state of mind in which Angelenos expend the two calmest and most fruitful hours of their daily lives.

The 1893 Bradbury Building in downtown LA was an unintegrated fragment in Banhams eyes. Photograph: Michele and Tom Grimm/ Alamy

Between sections on the citys ecologies, Banham examined the buildings found in them. Populist, stylistically promiscuous, tradition-agnostic and often deliberately impermanent, Los Angeles architecture has, of all the citys components, sucked distain the longest. There is no reward for aesthetic dignity here , no sanction for aesthetic misdemeanour; nothing but a enormous planetary carelessnes, wrote the novelist James M. Cain in 1933.

More than 40 year later, Banham accompanied a stylistic bounty of Tacoburger Aztec to Wavy-line Moderne, from Cape Cod to unsupported Jaoul roofs, from Gourmet Mansardic to Polynesian Gabled and even in tip Modern Architecture.

He discussed at length the LA building known as the dingbat a two-storey walk-up apartment-block … built of grove and stuccoed over, all same at the back but inexpensively, elaborately, decorated up-front, decorated with an aspirational mention such as the Capri or the Starlet.

In characterizing dingbats as the real evidence of Los Angeles urban id, trying to cope with the unprecedented illusion of residential concentrations too high to be subsumed within the apparitions of homestead living, Banham diagnosed the center and lingering friction, then as now, between wanting to grow outward and needing to grow upward.

Banham sucked out the implications of Los Angeles ostensibly disposable houses not by adoring them , nor denigrating them, but simply by experiencing them because they are. Robert Venturi, Denise Scott Brown and Steven Izenour would advocate the same approaching in their own urban classic, Learning from Las Vegas, written the following year: Withholding judgment may be used as a tool to form later ruling most sensitive. This is a way of learning from everything.

Still, even appreciators of Los Angeles might take issue with this method when Banhams non-judgmental attitude at the least toward the esthetics of American commercial culture starts to look like advocacy for bad taste.

The self-absorbed and perfected Watts Towers. Picture: Hulton Archive/ Getty Images

Non-appreciators of Los Angeles surely did. The painter and critic Peter Plagens, generator of an 11,000 -word excoriation in Artforum magazine entitled The Ecology of Evil, exited thus far as to description Banhams book dangerous: The hackers who do shopping mall, Hawaiian eateries and savings-and-loans, the dried-up civil servant in the separation of highways, and the legions of showbiz fringies will sleep a little easier and task a little harder now that their enterprises have been authenticated. In a more human civilization where Banhams doctrines would be measured against the subdividers rape of the territory and the pas specks in little kids lungs, the author might be countenanced up against a wall and shot.

Uncowed, Banham followed the book by starring in Reyner Banham Loves Los Angeles, a 1972 television documentary that followed him through one day in the city that represents absurdity of history and interruption all the rules, and stimulated within him a passion that moving beyond gumption or reason. Stops on the tour included Simon Rodias handmade Watts Towers( a absolutely self-absorbed and perfected monument) to Los Angeles characteristic fantasize of innocence( prominently recognized on all the maps in his book ); the overgrown sections of the old-time Pacific Electric Railways rusting rails that once tied the whole gigantic metropoli together; the decrepit canals and beachside bodybuilding facilities of Venice; and a Sunset Boulevard drive-in burger joint.

There, Banham asked the painter Ed Ruscha, plainspoken and painstaking spectator of American city cliche, what public buildings a visitor should attend. Ruscha recommended gas stations.

Banham pre-empted dissents to Los Angeles urban anatomy by claiming the anatomy materials very little, had now been written that Los Angeles has no metropolitan way at all in the commonly accepted feel. Yet whatever it does have, he indicated, has induced a fascinating, and sometimes even efficient, adjusted of emergent urban phenomena.

Come the day when the pollution fate eventually condescends, he chronicled over aerial films of Wilshire Boulevards double row of towers and frame-filling neighbourhoods of separated homes, … when trafficking in human beings grinds to a stall and the private car is banned from the street, quite a lot of craftily targeted citizens will be able to switch over to being pedestrians and detect no pain.

Cyclists on Venice Beach … though often of LA is not bike-friendly. Photograph: Alamy

The end of the car in Los Angeles? Bold terms for the man who announced Wilshire Boulevard one of the few great streets in the world where driving is a pleasure when you have, like earlier generations of English academics who learn themselves Italian in order to read Dante in the original, “ve learned to” drive in order to speak Los Angeles in the original.

But just as the languages listen on the street of Los Angeles have multiplied, its own language of mobility has changed there, as has much else besides. How legible would Banham, who perished in 1988 , now find it?

The smog that believed bane of the citys postwar decades which he always minimise has all but vanished. The occasion of apparently inexhaustible seat to satisfy an infatuation with single-family dwellings has given lane to one of building cranes sprouting to satisfy the new is asking for high-density horizontal living. They hold not just over a downtown heighten miraculously from the dead, but the specialised sub-centres scattered all over greater Los Angeles.

Though the ban on private cars hasnt come yet , no recent development astonishes any Angeleno who was there in the 1970 s more than the citys new runway transit system, which started to emerge almost 30 years after the end of the Pacific Electric. It grades as such as a success for financing, planning and implementation( at least by the globally unimpressive American standard) that the rest of the country now ogles to Los Angeles as an example of how to build public transportation and, increasingly, public cavity in general.

Readers might scoff at Banham calling the Los Angeles freeway network one of the greater projects of guy but he has demonstrated more of an ability to see beyond it than numerous current observers of Los Angeles. Even though it is vastly better than any other motorway arrangement of my acquaintance, he wrote, it is inconceivable to Angelenos that it should not be replaced by an even better organisation nearer to the perfection they are always seeking.

Banham experienced downtown Los Angeles only deserved a short assembly devote to it. Photograph: Alamy

Banham also saw the rise of the self-driving car, so often mooted these days as an alternative solution to Los Angeles traffic woes. But cars that drive themselves( as distinct from Baede-kar a then-fantastical spokesperson sailing arrangement dreamed up for Banhams TV doc, that produces an uncanny resemblance to those every American driver uses today) “re coming with” troubles that Banham also predicted all those years ago. The marginal amplifications in efficiency through automation, he wrote, might be offset by the psychological destitutions caused by destroying the residual illusions of free decision and driving skill.

Under each outwardly celebratory sheet of Banhams book lies the notion of change as Los Angeles merely constant: no matter how excitingly modern the car and the pike, the working day will come to an end; no matter how comfortably idyllic the disconnected mansion, it extremely must fall out of promotion, or into impracticality, sooner or later.

Some of the elements that drew Banhams attention have, after their own periods of disfavour, returned fashionable again. Even the humble dingbat has find a residence in the future of the city, becoming the subject matter of critical examine and architectural race.

Banham also ensure the future of Los Angeles in other unprepossessing structures, especially one stunning and elegantly simple stucco container on La Cienega Boulevard. Its designer? A particular Frank Gehry, then virtually unknown but now one of the stronger influencers of the constructed surrounding in not only Los Angeles( its most recent high-profile activity implies re-making the citys famously dry, concrete-encased flow ), but other municipalities as well. The Toronto-born starchitect grew his adopted hometowns architectural emissary only one of the myriad lanes in which Los Angeles has influenced the rest of the city world-wide.

These daytimes, the rest of the city world also influences Los Angeles. No longer striving under the delusions of total exceptionalism which prevails in Banhams day, it has, with its towers, improves, commons and even bike-share structures, constructed paces toward the liveability so demanded by 21 st-century urbanists. It now even resembles( if faintly) New York, Boston, London, and Paris those exhaustively projected , non-experimental municipalities where, Banham deplored, warring pressure groups cannot get out of each other hair why i am pressed together in a hallowed labyrinth of cultural statues and real estate values.

In its impressive dictation to incorporate older metropolitan moralities and play by the rules of good urban issues, modern Los Angeles rejects the possibility of setting up becoming a similarly sacred labyrinth at its peril. Retaining Banhams Los Angeles: the Architecture of Four Ecologies on its syllabus will hopefully protect against the dire fate of losing its rule-breaking experimental urban spirit.

The engineering-trained writer regarded Los Angeles as a kind of machine. Though it has come in for a seriously needed overhaul of its interface in recent years , nothing has already been written a useds manual more engaged in the city on its own terms as Banham did 45 years ago.

Follow Guardian Cities on Twitter and Facebook to join the discussion

The post A ‘radical alternative’: how one boy changed the sensing of Los Angeles appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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