A Triathlon for my 31st Birthday

Looking at the 50m Olympic pool from our hotel room balcony brought back many memories. The bright blue water shining underneath the clear, sunny lanzarotenian (is that even a word?) sky looked incredibly inviting from the moment we got there.

Just the morning before the competition, my last morning as a 30-year-old, I dove in and swam 1100m in half an hour, realizing what 10+ years of dry land with the exception of showers can do to one’s aquatic endurance. Back then I used to feel like I could swim from Tenerife to Gran Canaria if I wanted to. To make matters worse, I was freshly coming out of a 7-night shift combo, severely sleep deprived and with a week worth of ZERO exercise on my back (which I definitely felt as well based on the full-body muscle soreness the Monday morning BodyPump session instantly gave me).
Hence, with stiff limbs full of microscopic fiber trauma, on the morning of my birthday, I showed up at the pool with a “let’s give this a try and participate for the sake of it with no expectations” kind of mindset. Then again, I am more of a competitive personality than I like to admit, so all that laid-backness disappeared and soon as I was standing on the verge of lane 5, swimming cap and goggles in place, heart racing, with fellow competitors on both sides.

Jumping in and starting the race definitely increased the flashback intensity of those weekend mornings back in high school what feels like two million years ago. I felt the same excitement, the same adrenaline rush and also sense of dread and stress as I did back then, while focusing all of my energy on propelling myself in the water while keeping an eye on the swimmers around me, as much as the quick neck movements, the fogged-up goggles and the blur or water and bubbles can allow. I caught glimpses of my family from our balcony, screaming and signaling with cheerful and silly gestures that made me smile wide enough for them to notice.
Once again, though, I felt my body give in what I interpreted as prematurely, compared to what my performance used to be almost two decades ago. And so, I was very surprised when I turned out first female to get out of the water, and second swimmer overall. Same happened with the biking segment, at which I felt significantly more comfortable, since I live with my Canyon attached to my butt during the summer.
It was the running that almost killed me (I suspect potentially in a more literal way than I actually jokingly mean, as I’d never experienced that near throw-up exhaustion from physical exercise before, with a pulse of probably up to 200 bpm at one point). Leaving the bike saddle and the easy resistance of a quick pedaling pace to push my legs against hard concrete for several kilometers on end under the scorching sun was a demanding and kind of discouraging contrast to face. But having Guillermo hovering around as much as he could with his phone in hand while cheering for me was annoyingly helpful, until I was finally taken over by the first female. However, I managed to maintain my position and I still finished second, with a pretty good mark for someone with full-body muscle soreness and severe sleep deprivation.
I felt the endorphins all day, with a deep sense of accomplishment and ease, and I slept like a baby in a coma that night. Probably one of my best birthday experiences.

A part of me (the competitive one) wonders how much faster I would have been, hadn’t I had a week-long break from working out just before the competition, if I wasn’t sore, and if I, say, ran a bit more than I do. Biking and running in a wet swimsuit, doing so on the Canary Islands, with my family cheering for me all the way through, setting foot on a podium after so many years, a shiny new prize, a free t-shirt and silicone cap… All of that was great. But I am also excited about this renewed love for swimming as a sport and the possibility of going for another triathlon event under better conditions sometime in the future.
After finally trying out CrossFit, I realize it’s probably not for me. As cool and challenging as it is, there is undeniable beauty and benefits in cardiovascular and muscular endurance, in something as esthetically pleasing, healthy and safe (for the joints) as swimming. And so, I’ve resolved to turn that into my main winter activity in Basel.

Barbie

Why I would not recommend.
Spoiler alert!

In between nights spent at the hospital, what better way to unwind and disconnect from work than by going to the movies with a girlfriend and watching something “light” while devouring a good old jumbo bucket of salty popcorn.
Or so I thought.
Having not read or listened to any reviews or ratings, I was not expecting Barbie’s full-blown political message disguised as the adventures of an all-time classic toy for girls. Unexpectedly, I left the movie theater with an even busier mind, feeling uneasy, uncomfortable, and kind of sad. I kept thinking about it during my shift and I couldn’t put my mind to rest until I finally figured out exactly what was wrong with the whole thing.

At first, I was mesmerized by the photography, the unapologetically girly esthetics, the catchy original songs by popular contemporary artists, and the clever ideas executed to recreate a fantasy world populated by live actors. I liked the simple, innocent and optimistic ways of these creatures in their Barbieland, and the plot twist presented by the breach between that parallel dimension and the “Real World” piqued my interest and made me excited for the upcoming interactions between the main characters and “real people”.

But shortly after setting foot in L.A., the politically charged portrayal of reality became increasingly apparent, with a very blunt (probably to a significant degree comically intended) over-generalization of feminine vs. masculine stereotypes, with an obvious moralizing undertone. At first, I hoped for a significant degree of irony behind the very intentional dichotomic and antagonistic depiction of masculinity and femininity, but its consistent presence even during the most dramatic scenes ruled out any solely comical intentions.

Firstly, regarding Barbie’s first contact with “real men”, unwarranted, obscene catcalling does exist. From my own personal experience, it even might be particularly exacerbated in the streets of Santa Monica. Barbie makes a point to disassociate herself from the reductionist view of women implied by the objectifying outcries of these men by very graphically stating her lack of reproductive organs (due to her being, indeed, a doll). Yet the movie ends with the contradictory irony of her proudly announcing an appointment with a gynecologist first thing after becoming human. Addressing this theme twice, making it the very last scene of the movie, paradoxically ends up reducing women to their sexuality in a way which kind of contradicts the modern feminism defended during the previous two hours.

Barbies are brainwashed into becoming submissive Ken-pleasers, as their male counterparts take over Barbieland. And so, most of the plot revolves around women losing power and trying to reestablish a matriarcal system once their world is contaminated by the pervasive ideology of “modern patriarchy”. In the context of the storyline, this seems like a legitimate motive (though I would have preferred a more equal and balanced end goal). But the means used by Babies to achieve this portray them in an unflattering way.
Their collective behavior in some instances is morally disenchanting and disappointing. I felt appalled at the cruelty and remorsefulness with which barbies collectively play with and manipulate Kens´ feelings to manufacture a jealousy driven rivalry among them, ultimately leading to their violent self-destruction. That kind of cunning play is more characteristic of villains than heroes. How does such behavior portray women in that instance? As sleazy. Dishonest. Hypocritical. Definitely not as integrous or brave. It just made me feel bad for all Kens, regardless of their previous wrongdoings, as Barbies’ victory feels like a disingenuous cheat.
Self-proclaimed moral superiority and the implied idea that certain unmoral behaviors are justified to counter others, do something I deem very dangerous for human coexistence: they blur the boundaries between right and wrong, decreasing the value and meaning of these concepts, and turn justice and virtue subjective and contextualizable.

There is further controversy derived from the very element that makes brainwashed Barbies snap out of their trance, as it relies upon the realization of their general oppression and victimhood in society. The long speech delivered by the unlikeable real-world mother character elaborates on women’s victim role in today’s misogynistic society, the existential unfairness, pressures and expectations they are constantly subjected to. I don’t remember the exact lines of her dramatic (rather histrionic) supposedly enlightening speech, but among other things it touched upon how we are expected to be great mothers but not talk about our children too much, to be leaders without coming across as insensitive or bossy, to be thin while pretending all we attempt to be is “healthy”, to always put everyone else first, to never be selfish, and so on.

In my personal experience (and according to research and psychology), self-perceived victimhood leads to feelings of hopelessness, low self-esteem, sadness, anxiety, lack of purpose. Inequalities do exist but as it with ANY major complex topic, oversimplification and generalizations lead to the erroneous axiomatic acceptance of certain ideas that can be fundamentally wrong and damaging.
In developed, free countries every person, regardless of gender, has the freedom of choice, to live and act according to their own moral values within legal, socioeconomic and societal limitations. We have the privilege of making choices for ourselves. We have a say in how we are perceived by ourselves and our peers, we can act with dignity and honesty, avoiding or condemning situations and people that contradict our values. We can find and give the best of ourselves with self-awareness and self-compassion. And there is no need for women to constantly interpret EVERY setback in life through the lens of patriarchal oppression or gender inequality. Such an attitude by default implies a sense of unavoidable doom and condemnation, and acts as the perfect breeding ground for feelings of resentment and general discontent. And, ironically, rivalry between the sexes itself.
It is not a mentality that allows anyone, neither women nor men, to grow within their possibilities.

Then there’s the two main “real” female characters, mother and teenage daughter, who come across as everything but grounded, mature and/or realistic. They both are bitter and cynical in their own way. The mother from the moment she volunteers her self-pitying reductionist self-perception as a “boring mom with a boring job”. The daughter for the coldness and cruelty displayed at Barbie upon meeting her, and her continuously gloomy and dismissive demeanor throughout most of their interactions, targeting her own mother as well. Being a teenager is biologically tumultuous and difficult, but it doesn’t give anyone a free pass to be disrespectful, callous or ill-spirited. Am I supposed to identify with these women? Without knowing the intricacies of their fictional personal lives, especially the overall attitude of the teenage girl doesn’t seem relatable to me. She has a structured family unit and two parents who seem present and loving. Although in accordance with the movie’s general depiction of men, the one or two scenes actually featuring the dad, he seems aloof and rather moronic.

Lastly, something I did not enjoy was watching Ken’s love for Barbie get diminished and dismissed as immature and inconvenient. He is pushed to find himself “independently from Barbie”. Because, even though he was created as her counterpart and companion, isolation and loneliness is the best way to find fulfilment, and men and women don’t belong together, they belong apart.

A movie about Barbie had the potential to be approached from a hundred different angles. It could have still appealed to a broad audience without making it about the male vs. female dichotomy or the “patriarchy”. But the fact it was is, in my opinion, redundant, unoriginal and, ironically, backward.

Entertainment like this accentuates whatever disparities, inequalities, differences, animosities between men and women that do exist. Ken and Barbie could have been a team joining forces to defeat or conquer something external to themselves, without turning against one another. The idea of a Barbie doll in the real world, delivered by this charismatic cast, could have been amazing had it been free of contemporary ideologies. It would have appealed to a broader public, making a better job at honoring the long multigenerational history of the beloved toy. Instead, the chosen approach kind of ruins the movie’s potential of becoming a timeless classic.

Unfortunately, masculinity, both in the Real World and in Babieland, is consistently portrayed as intrinsically predatory, unassertive, erratic, aggressive, unhinged, clumsy. And, again, it might have all been with a characterizing comical intent. But contrary to the case with female characters, there was really no scene in which any man was portrayed as wise or serene or truly virtuous. There was no need to frame the girliness of Barbie’s world in contrast to toxic masculinity.

I don’t appreciate how increasingly political the film industry is becoming. I want to be able to watch a movie before a night shift without having the same propaganda I am regularly subjected to in the media shoved down my throat next to my popcorn.

I could not identify with the kind of womanhood portrayed by any of these characters, but Ken I found likeable and easy to empathize with.
Had I been him, I would have escaped Barbieland too.

Rose-Colored Glasses

What a perfect day.
For the first time in a long while, I finally felt like spending it all on my own… for the right reasons. I was the only company I needed, because I knew today I was going to be a good, uplifting and wholesome one.

For the first time this year, I revisited one of my favorite routes: from Freiburg to Breisach am Rhein and back. I had been missing bike sunsets. Living in beautiful Basel has many advantages, but opportunities like these to explore around my dear Freiburg, the Schwarzwald region, and lovely Oberrheingraben are rare and hence, golden.
So, I put on my neglected cycling gear and the most random, cheesiest female only pop hits playlist I could find on Spotify, and hit the road.

I only actually realized how long it had been since the last time I picked that itinerary because it felt better than I remembered. Particularly the bit past Opfingen, the ascension to Merdigen, and the lookout over the Weinberge from Tuniberghöhenweg. It was cloudy, but the kind of cloudy I like: puffy and porous. With enough cracks between clouds wide enough for the sun to reach through and touch the ground with a special kind of selective kindness, enhancing soft textures and bringing out the best of those lovely sunset pastels. There was barely anyone out as I passed through familiar empty fields, industrial areas and small towns, all wrapped in that mystic warm flair of this beautiful summer sunset.

My legs and my pumping heart worked together to propel me (and me) forward and up in every possible sense. How freeing and satisfying it is to go at my own pace, to take whatever turn I want, to make mistakes and reroute however I please. 358,50€ worth of balayage and styling from this very morning carelessly covered by a sweaty helmet directly after, and no one to frown at my choices or priorities. Underneath my blonde hair, a brain full of nothing but exhilarating thoughts and emotions for 3 hours and 50 km.

Ecstasy. Heat, the outdoors, open spaces, gorgeous sunlight, wide empty roads, colorful music, solitude, sustained physical effort, speed, freedom…

Once it was over, I looked into the mirror and saw another thing I’d almost forgotten about: a collection of tiny bugs plastered all over my sunscreened face. A tan, sweaty and smiling one.

Today, I had two mayor cravings that increased the thirstier I became once I ran out of water: fruit and ginger ale. Couldn’t find the latter, but the size of the fruit salad I devoured just now makes my cycling spandex asphyxiate my abdomen with passion.

Now, as sweaty, sticky as I am, typing all this is just another source of pleasure and joy to end the day.
Everything is so... peaceful.
I must be seeing through rose-colored (cycling) glasses again.
Quite literally, too.




🚲
And that's why I smile
It's been a while
Since every day and everything has
Felt this right
🚲
(Avril Lavigne – Smile – My Random Cheesy playlist.)

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