Fatherhood – Page 2 – Serenity Through Sweat

A Thousand Ones

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week I was listening to Joe Rogan conversation with General H.R. McMaster and he made a comment that reminded me of something an old boss used to tell me

While describing the recent US military withdrawal frome Afghanistan, McMaster posited the question, “did we fight a twenty year war, or did we fight a one year war, twenty times?”

My old boss, a man who is largely responsible for my professional and career development, used to ask, “Do you have one thousand hours, or one hour, a thousand times?”

The things you learn in those thousand hours

The thought being, there are components of experience, familiarization, and competence that are gained with the accumulation of hours. But that accumulation only takes place if you learn the lessons rather than repeat the same processes of your first time. In other words, have you grown and progressed?

This seems like it should be a given. If you have flown an airplane for a thousand hours there is bound to be some growth and learning. If you have fought a war for twenty years you should have picked up a thing or two.

Learning is hard. Growth is not automatic. The human condition often defaults to the path of least resistance. This is how you end up with “one hour, a thousand times” without some of the requisite lessons learned.

Sure that might be something of an exaggeration, but the concept is there. That’s one of the primary reasons why we have assessments. Every child in a classroom receives the same number of hours of content, but they are assessed to measure their growth and proficiency.

Pilots have intermediate assessments (stage checks) and check rides. There are defined minimum hour criteria to be eligible for a check ride. The check ride itself is a way of verifying that you have accumulated the skill and mastery of those combined hours. Rather than merely repeating the same hour over and over.

This was something I struggled with in the beginning of my professional aviation career. I was a great student in the classroom, and in the airplane. When told what was important, I could immerse myself and learn. The professional world is not always so cut and dry. There is a reason academics tend to stay in academia.

If you are fortunate, someone in the professional world will take you under their wing (aviation pun intended). They can help you sort through what is critical. What to focus on. Push you to grow.

Without that kind of mentorship. That professional nurturing. You are left to your own devices to accumulate knowledge and experience. The risk of repeating your solitary hour grows.

Daddy made it home and he brought treats

I see that lesson more clearly now as a father. My boys need to “build their hours”. But, I can be there to guide them. Making sure their hours accumulate rather than simply repeat.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

This week’s SerenityThroughSweat, zwift double headers and a few days at OBJJ

Spoons and Shovels

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week I wanted to talk about the strange relationship I have with efficiency, in fatherhood, fitness, and flying.

I was reminded and inspired for this post by a quote from a Pavel Tsatsouline’s kettlebell book, Simple and Sinister. Pavel’s style of training is to use heavy weights explosively, and do fewer reps for more sets with long breaks in-between.

“Hard style training is also highly effective for fat loss. In a study that compared the energy expenditures in the same exercise performed explosively and non-explosively, the former predictably burned more calories. “The swing is inefficient, which is why it is a great fat burner,” explains Dan John. “The bike is efficient—and fat people can ride it forever.” Yes, you could burn the same calories by doing more reps with less power or less weight…but why? “

“Famous economist Milton Friedman was visiting a construction site in a country with Soviet-influenced economic policies. It was in the 1960s and Friedman was shocked to see only shovels and no mechanized equipment. He asked the government bureaucrat who was giving the tour about it. The latter smugly replied, “You don’t understand. This is a jobs program.” Prof. Friedman smiled, “Oh, I thought you were trying to build a canal. If it’s jobs you want, then you should give these workers spoons, not shovels.”

In many aspect of my life efficiency reigns supreme. I am always looking for the most efficient way to do something. Whether it is a grappling technique, a flight procedure, or just getting the kids out the door.

Aviation procedures after accounting first for safety, are primarily efficiency driven. Small inefficiencies multiplied across thousands of flights a day make a huge difference to a company.

Grappling is all about efficiency in motion. Your ability to generate the maximum amount of force necessitates not wasting energy through inefficient movement. Getting into advantageous positions is often not possible with inefficient or extra movement.

Beauty beyond the buildings in Burlington

In endurance sports, when racing, I’m trying to achieve the best efficiency in terms of speed for power output. The level of efficiency in a pedal stroke, a swimming stroke, or running cadence can be the difference between a personal record, and a really dark and ugly mental slog just to finish.

When training however, I often find myself deliberately seeking inefficiency. Swinging a kettlebell, over-exaggerating grappling movements, practicing a deliberately slower pedal stroke with a higher gear.

These inefficient training methods have a significant impact on strength, and growth in the particular sport or skill.

Fort building with Speedy and El Duderino

The irony is not lost on me that I waffle between maximized efficiency to minimized efficiency. Doing something the most efficient way is seldom the best way to learn.

I’m thinking about this as El Duderino is starting pre school. There are so many things that I do for him, and for myself for that matter, that are driven primarily by efficiency. But is that always the best approach?

El Duderino has been potty trained for a while. My wife was been a rock star with that, starting when he was only 6 months old. But he doesn’t like to wipe his own butt. Efficiency, being the quickest way to get this task done, dictates that I (or my wife) do it for him. The alternative is an existential argument with a four year old. with pants around his ankles, butt up in the air, explaining to us the importance of team work and helping out your family. His argument (especially in context) seems compelling.

At some point he will have to do this himself. It is a question of when, not if. I know that sooner is better than later. But there is a nagging sense of efficiency that rears its head. The desire to complete a simple task and move on to the next, that drives my avoidance of what I know to be my parental responsibility. To help him grow and develop into an independent young man.

It is hard to feel excited about deliberate inefficiency. It is even more painful when that inefficiency can be remedied, but doing so would be detrimental in the long run.

Parenting, along with many other aspects of my life and this blog, can be an exercise in using spoons instead of shovels. At least I’ve got company down in the trenches digging along with me.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Debt

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I wrote a few weeks back about Pappyland, a book following the van winkle family and their generational story through the booming bourbon market. The writing even after just a small snippet struck such a chord with me that I bought the book and could hardly put it down. After finishing it, I wanted to share my thoughts especially as they fit in with the overarching themes of the blog.

Whright Thompson spends a few years researching the book getting to know Julian Van Winkle, the bourbon industry as well as the family’s complicated history. The story follows four generations from “pappy”, Julian’s grandfather, all the way to Julian’s son Preston, who is learning at his father’s side.

Maple syrup lollipops from Vermont (what does a father, especially one who travels, owe a son?)

Thompson weaves his own relationship with his father as well as his journey towards becoming a new father into the novel which becomes more about family than it does about bourbon.

“Meeting with Julian and making him talk about his family made me ask myself the same question I’d been asking him: What did I owe my late father? What did I owe a grandfather I never met? What is demanded of a son or a daughter? What was demanded of me?”

Both Julian and Wright’s fathers died of illness before their time. Both sons felt the weight not only of the loss, but of the pressure to live up to family expectations. To succeed and press on in ways that the previous generation was unable to, for one reason or another.

The idea of raising a child, makes you reflect on those questions. If you are fortunate enough, and live in enough comfort to be introspective, having all of your needs met, you inevitably owe a debt to your parents. One that I’m not sure can ever be repaid.

Even if that debt is never tabulated, called in, or otherwise made tangible, it exists. It is an unspoken calling across generations to fulfill potential. To create, and affect, and change, hopefully in a positive and lasting way some part of this world.

In the acknowledgements Thompson writes to his young daughter telling her “let me save you some soul searching: you don’t owe me anything”. He goes on to say that he loves her unconditionally and that the book is for her.

I love his work, and I am inspired by it. Especially as I tackle my own literary project. Still, I think he misses the mark. After his deep and moving coverage of the VanWinkle family, it seems to.me there is always some form of generational debt.

The unconditional love and the debt are not mutually exclusive. If your parents did right by you, whatever their faults and failings may be, a debt is owed. It may not even be payable to them. It may be payable to yourself. But, a debt is owed.

My own feeble attempt then, to answer those questions.

Mom and Dad, I cannot thank you enough for the foundation you laid for me, and especially now for my family. There are lessons that are poignant in my mind, that I feel obliged to pass on. Traditions and relationships that I vow to maintain. An idea, of a fulfilled life that I will strive towards. These are the things I feel are demanded of me as a son.

Speedy and El Duderino, you are loved unconditionally. Your mother and I will support you to the best of our abilities in your endeavors. But you owe a debt, mostly to yourselves, but in a small part to us. To try, to engage, to grow, to explore and experience. In short, to live a life with purpose.

These are broad strokes intentionally. There are innumerable paths you both may choose. Following any of those paths in earnest, with intention, grace, and maybe even a touch of serenity, will clear any debt that may be owed.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Race day

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This past weekend was my first foray back into longer distance triathlon since having kids and I wanted to share some of my experience.

Let me start by saying it is difficult to adequately express the range of emotions that pop up over the 5:48 it took me to cover the 70.3 miles.

There are lows of despair, pain, and self doubt, followed by bouts of confidence and elation. The smallest and most insignificant detail can move you from one end of the spectrum to the other, and right back again just as quickly.

Nobody likes swimming with company. Biking and running with friends is great, swimming with friends really just means getting groped and kicked. Even with the rolling start (which was way better than IM FL in 2013) the swim was more of a contact sport than desired.

I’m very grateful for a safe bike experience both training and racing. Seeing some of my fellow athletes bloodied and road rashed, or worse is a reminder of how fortunate I am to have avoided major accidents despite all the miles put in.

It also reinforces my decision to train almost exclusively indoors on the bike. With a smart trainer and zwift, my biking is more efficient (in terms of not needing to load up and load out and drive to a safer road to ride). It is also way more diverse in terms of ability to climb, sprint, and ride different simulated terrain and topography.

I felt very prepared for the bike course with only indoor training, but it was a refreshing reminder of why I love to ride my bike. The cool December Florida temperatures (at least for the bike leg) paired with the rolling hills, rural roads, and orange groves, made for a picturesque Sunday morning ride. There were more than few instances out on the bike course where I found myself smiling, lost in the gentle mechanical hum of the chain through the cogs.

There is a simple and efficient exchange that happens on the bike that is magical. Human power goes in and locomotion comes out, but some of that majesty can be lost when looking at a power meter and a virtual world. The wind rushing past the ear scoops of my way too serious looking aero helmet, brought all that majesty back very quickly.

By mile forty seven on the bike course, after north of three hours of racing already, the gentle rolling hills and orange groves seemed much less enchanting as my legs started to fatigue and the new asphalt gave way to roads that can be best described as a taint jackhammer. It is a glamorous sport, you just need the right words to describe it.

The race start was delayed an hour due to morning fog, which was a good call, but it meant the run would be done in the heat of the day, even for the fastest athletes. My slightly better than .idle of the pack pace was no exception. Add in unseasonably warm temperatures for Florida in December, and the half marathon was set up to be a trip through the pain cave.

There is a surge of energy that happens in transition. Our senses are naturally enhanced by change, as an evolutionary trait, so the bike to run change brings not only a sense of completion and accomplishment, but also a much needed shot of adrenaline. That wears off far too quickly as you realize you have 13 miles to run with more uphill than you realized.

A two loop run course is wonderful for spectators and logistics, but it is a cruel mistress. The exit is always close, the self inflicted punishment can stop whenever you want it to. This is a silly thing to do to yourself anyway, why run another lap?

A shot from a friendly neighbor’s hose, the ice cubes melting into sweet relief down your back, a kind word from a fellow masochist, can all give you the push you need to keep moving forward.

The run course wound in an out of neighborhoods, doubling back on itself, in a way that made me frustrated and delirious. Those same rolling hills that seemed so enchanting just a few hours ago, rose up like a rock wall, shimmering in the Florida sun.

Wanting to quit, wanting to jump for joy, wanting a beer, these are all things I had felt before in varying intensity at different races. What I hadn’t felt was my ability to be a father after that kind of effort.

Above and beyond triathlon, the extra gear and the endurance that I have when I see those two smiling faces, is something that I wish I knew how to train, but I’m glad it comes naturally. Being able to take my kids to the playground and the pool, and run around the house with them after the race means regardless of my finishing time, my training was right on point.

The elevation profile is a little off, but here are the race details in all their glory

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

What’s Cookin’

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week, against my better judgement, I want to talk about gender stereotyped activities. Wish me luck and come along for the ride as I traverse this modern day minefield.

I often find myself flying with captains who are much older than me (20 to 30 years older) and at a different point in their life. Anyone who has spent a career in aviation and anyone who has raised a family has a wealth of knowledge and no shortage of stories to share. While I appreciate these peers and mentors and the wisdom they share freely (sometimes uninvited) I find that there are some generational gaps that can’t be overcome.

One such generational gap came up on my most recent trip and I thought it was worth discussing. This trip was a three day, with a real kick in the pants type of first day. Five legs, lots of convective weather, a prolonged sit in an out station, and then a deadhead on a regional jet that was delayed.

My alarm went off at 5:00am and I didn’t make it to my hotel until after 8:00pm and the only real opportunity to have a civil meal in that time was our prolonged sit at the out station.

The captain told me I packed like a senior flight attendant (notorious for carrying lots of bags) when he saw my oversized cooler bag along with my flight bag and suitcase. As I unpacked some smoked brisket and curried cauliflower he became more intrigued. When I told him that I cooked before I left so that my wife and kids had prepared food while I was gone, and I had healthy meals on the road, he responded “you cook for your wife before you leave, that’s different”. He shared that his wife had packed his PB&J bag lunches that were indistinguishable from those a kindergartner might show up with.

I’m under no illusion that my meal prepping is not the norm. Im also not so self involved that I think I can change those gender norms. I do think however, I can raise my boys with the understanding that something you are passionate about, that also benefits others, can be a source of joy and pride regardless of norms.

I love to cook, especially when I am not time constrained by the already untenable list of things I enjoy spending my time on. I am also passionate about diet, exercise, and overall well-being, and those overlap very well with my cooking/meal prepping. Pair in an aviation career especially post covid with limited food options in airports and on layovers and my meal prep/ cooking habits are done just as much from a self serving sense as they are from that of a provider.

Not a bad spot to write down your thoughts, Naked River Brewing Co Chattanooga TN

Don’t get me wrong, I love that my 1 and 3 year olds eat roasted asparagus and brussel sprouts, curried cauliflower, and smoked meats. Fueling my training and work schedule with healthy foods is an admittedly selfish priority, the fact that my boys eat that way too is a wonderful bonus.

But I hadn’t thought that much about the behavior modeling of dad (me) doing all the cooking, and especially cooking ahead of time for when I’m on the road. As a child of divorce, both my parents cooked for me when I was hungry, I never saw it as a gender specific task.

When I stopped eating what my mother cooked because I was cutting weight for wrestling, I started cooking for myself in my sophomore year of highschool. Again, this seemed a practical and realistic division of labor rather than an against the grain trend.

Starting to build up the milage this week, 75+ miles over 3 rides

One of the guiding questions that fuels this blog, is how I will answer my boys when they ask me what it means to be a man. The conversation in my head normally spans multiple sittings, involves at least me drinking, and tends to be full of inconsistencies. The truth is I’m not really sure, and that’s O.K.

But the message will sure as hell include doing what you are passionate about, especially when it helps other people. If that means that cooking is manly, I’ll be the first one to help them tie on their aprons.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

The injured knee held up pretty well to 7 miles on the treadmill, helped along by some De La Soul

Empathy

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. After a busy week on vacation we are back and better than ever, with an interesting take on empathy.

The following article was posted on Sunday’s with Sisson, and was an incredibly compelling read. The cliff notes version is that consumption of physical painkillers (acetaminophen was used in the experiment testing) blunt not only our own pain, but also our neurochemical pathways for empathy for the pain of another.

That’s a pretty heavy scientific finding, and as the author’s put it, “Because empathy regulates prosocial and antisocial behavior, these drug-induced reductions in empathy raise concerns about the broader social side effects of acetaminophen, which is taken by almost a quarter of adults in the United States each week.”

I’m going to take a somewhat anti NSAID (non steroidal anti inflammatory drug) position in this post, but I want to clarify that these products have their important uses and have both improved and saved lives.

Acetaminophen as a fever reducer, especially for infants is a godsend. Pain management is a critical component to successful outcomes in many surgical, medical, and rehabilitation environments.

That being said, it is easy to misuse and abuse. That is coming from a guilty party, who spent the better part of my wrestling career eating Tylenol, Advil, and Aleve like a unsupervised child in a candy store.

Speedy’s first flight and a beautiful day at the beach

I remember a conversation I had with my wife after first starting jui jitsu, that despite being very similar to wrestling, my mindset was so much different in my practice of the gentle art. I remember telling her how I used to run through training partners in the wrestling room. In the pursuit of my own competitive goals, I pushed some of my teammates beyond their athletic comfort level, sometimes into over exertion and injury. There wasn’t any room for feelings or slowing down to teach them, it was all about me.

Contrast that with my practice of Jui Jitsu where I spend a lot of time explaining to someone how a position or scenario unfolded, and what they could have done differently, or posing those same questions to my brothers and sisters on the mat with a reasonable expectation that they will be answered. I start each round asking my training partners about their level of preparedness prior to each roll, how they are feeling, positions that they want to work on or avoid based on injury or weakness.

There is a gentleman’s agreement amongst almost all Jui Jitsu practitioners, that even if someone is too stubborn to tap out, it is your responsibility to your training partners to maintain their safety, especially above and beyond any of your own training goals. This same concept applies to an extent in wrestling, (you are responsible for safely returning an opponent to the mat when you forcefully remove them from it). But, because of the differences in rule sets, wrestling can largely be about moving someone where they don’t want to go, rather than systematically attacking from the changing positions you find yourself in, in Jiu Jitsu.

Some may say that wrestling is inherently more of a tough, grinding, grappling sport, when compared to the flow of jui jitsu, and they may be right. It can also be said that even my own stunted emotional maturity in my thirties is still light-years beyond that of my late teens. I would say however, that there is a significant difference in my self medication habits between the two periods of similar grappling activity, and I’m wondering how much of a impact this has had on my empathy, and thus my social engagement.

Beyond sport, there is nothing quite like being a parent to enhance and clarify your sense of empathy. There is something about carrying a kicking and screaming child that enables that neural pathway to empathize with all the other parents who have gone down the path before.

And if it takes a village to raise a child, as they say, sharing in the emotional well-being of said villiage is in the best interest of all the parents.

As I chased a screaming El Duderino around the Southern tier brewery’s outdoor seating area, and tried to keep him from terrorizing his little brother as well as the other patrons, I was pleasantly surprised to get a fist bump from a fellow father saying “dad, you’re doing great”.

This man’s empathy put a smile on my face and gave me the extra boost I needed to maintain some modicum of serenity throughout the rest of the afternoon.

So where NSAIDs may well blunt some of our more important social niceties along with some pain, it turns out sunshine and craft beer might just help replace them. (Trust the science)

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Flexibility

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I’ve had some extended reading time this week, (more on that later) and I’ve been able to work my way through Two Meals a Day by Mark Sisson.

The book goes through diet, nutrition, exercise, and lifestyle changes all in the pursuit of metabolic flexibility. According to Sisson, and his co-author Brad Kearns, metabolic flexibility is “the capacity to match fuel oxidation with fuel availability, or switch between burning carbs and burning fat”.

El Duderino picked out a new toy after successful overnight potty training

The idea is that the Standard American Diet has led most of us down a path of carb dependency. If the body only ever uses carbohydrates as the fuel source it will “forget” how to burn fat as fuel. This is a use it or lose type of bodily mechanism, but one that can be retrained.

Mark and Brad are far more educated and eloquent in all of these areas, and if you are interested in these ideas, Marksdailyapple.com is a great place to learn more.

“Hello, front desk, we need more towels in room 1335” (Speedy *probably)

Beyond the diet and nutrition information, just the idea of flexibility in general is one that I’d like to reflect on. Having spent the majority of my adult life in jobs that are “on call”, and almost my entire life as a grappler, I appreciate the value of flexibility in all of it’s varying forms.

Being on call as a pilot has been an extremely rewarding and empowering career option. On call status forces me into a level of flexibility with regards to planning and prioritization that would otherwise be unattainable. When you never know when you are going to work, or how long you will be away when you do, anything you want to accomplish has to be easily adjusted or rescheduled.

When that post workout cold plunge is dialed in

All martial arts but especially grappling arts demand flexibility in multiple aspects of their application. Many of the techniques and physical movements require a robust flexibility just to be a baseline participant. Because they are arts, different styles emerge that require flexibility in how you attack, defend, and plan tactics and strategy. Finally any training regimen in martial arts is bound to incur bumps, bruises, and the occasional more serious injury, and this demand a flexibility in scheduling and approach to training different from other endeavors.

With a myriad of experience training, grappling, and flying on call, I feel confident in my level of flexibility. Still El Duderino and Speedy find ways to challenge that confidence.

Being a parent has been by far the part of my life that requires the most flexibility. This my come as a shock, but toddlers don’t care about your plans. The tight rope walk of setting boundaries while also modeling flexible behaviors and decision making is a daily struggle.

If metabolic flexibility is being able to seamlessly transition between fuel sources for a more efficient operation of the human machine, I want to model the same sort of seamless transition and flexibility for my boys when plans start to go awry. I want them to see that changed plans can mean new opportunities. I want them to roll with the punches as a part of their world view. I want them to be flexible in mind, body, and emotion, (and metabolicly too) because that represents an optimum human condition.

Much like serenity, flexibility is not a destination to be arrived at, but rather an attribute that must be actively sought after and trained. I hope that I can continue in the pursuit of both flexibility and serenity, and that one day my boys will take up the journey as well.

Back to sweating on hotel cardio equipment, trying to train MAF and fasted.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Awakening

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. Last week, I talked about appreciating the metaphorical mountains of fatherhood based on a Frank Herbert quote from his magnum opus DUNE. This week I want to talk about another fatherhood theme of the book.

The book contains many layers each of which can be dissected individually and discussed at length in their own merit. The central storyline though follows Paul Atreides and his awakening from adolescence into the role of prophet and leader.

Early on in the book, before his own sci-fi training and psychedelic fueled prescient awakening, Paul has an awakening of a different sort, watching his father command and battle plan.

“There is probably no more terrible instant if enlightenment than the one in which you discover your father is a man-with human flesh.” This quote is attributed to Paul, though much later on in his story and after years of reflection.

As is often the case word choice and perspective are critical for the message sent as well as the message received. “Terrible instant of enlightenment”, conjures up a scene in the life of a young man that is as powerful as it is pivotal. The word terrible commands the readers attention, and dictates the connotation of the scene imagined by the reader.

Rather than imagining a tragic scene of innocence lost, I prefer to think of this instant of enlightenment like a door that has never before been opened. You don’t know what is on the other side, and you can continue on in that blissful ignorance for as long as you like. But once the door is opened, you can never revert to your state of unawareness.

I remember my own awakening and the realization that my father was just another good man trying to do the best he could with the hand he was dealt. That is a story for another time, but it makes me think about what I can do to shape and guide the journey my own sons will have to that day of their own awakening.

I say shape and guide the journey because I don’t think there is anything that can be done to control or schedule it. A young man’s awakening might be delayed, preserving boyish innocence, but like an infant who hasn’t yet mastered the concept of object permanence, they will eventually see the door and become curious. My sons will go on until that fateful day under the same magical trance that engulfs all children.

They will face their own terrible instant of enlightenment, transitioning into manhood upon this realization, walking through their own door that will close forever behind them. I can prepare myself, that I may be the best version I am capable of being. And, I can guide them, that they are prepared for the world waiting beyond that closed door.

Some windy runs, especially the 5k with a jogging stroller wind anchor/running buddy

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Mayday

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week we celebrate El Duderino’s birthday. As I reflect on the past year of his life and all the growth I’ve seen, what sticks out the most is his behaviors surrounding help.

Mayday is a word most aviators hope never to have to use. It is the international radiotelephone distress signal, and when repeated three times it indicates imminent and grave danger, and that immediate assistance is requested.

The origin of the word mayday comes from the French, M’aidez, which is help me. Obviously there is a change in tone, connotation, and level of urgency when alternating between the two, but that is kind of the point. The difficulty as aviators, as parents, and as humans, is knowing when to ask for help and knowing when to say mayday.

This is a hard enough distinction for somewhat self reflective psuedo adults (yours truly), much less toddlers. When should I ask for help, who should I ask for help, and especially how should I ask for help, are all critical communication skills we could all improve upon.

El Duderino is at a stage where he wants to do things himself, but also needs a significant amount of help. He isn’t shy about asking for help, but it often comes in the form of a mayday like call from across the house. The desperation fills the room regardless of whether or not the situation demands it.

I’m left trying to parent the situation determining what the issue is, what type of help he needs, and if he needs to adjust his communication method before I provide such help. It is a lot to evaluate and even more to try to pass on to a toddler. Add on to that the fact that I’m still a little confused on what is the best way to approach the topic of “help”

In the bewildering and convoluted web that is modern masculinity, we end up with lots of different positions on help. Providing help to others, super manly. Needing help yourself, not so manly. Yet somehow admitting you need the help and actually asking for it, is somehow manly.

Picanaha, bacon wrapped scallops, and pork belly burnt ends birthday dinner

What is it about needing help, asking for help, accepting help, and providing help, that drives men of all ages to such silly mental gymnastics.

I won’t try to speak for all men, but I think for me it has a lot to do with conflict, like we talked about last week. There is value and growth to be found in conflict and struggle, and bypassing or shortening the conflict with help, could otherwise bypass or shorten the growth.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that tiny driving force called ego that gets in the way. Mine has certainly gotten me into a fair share of trouble often times because I was too proud to ask for help.

Speedy making friends at El Duderino’s birthday

When I do dig myself into enough of a hole that even my ego needs bailing out, I still struggle to ask for help. The request tends to mimic an old Dave Mathews song and my “grace is gone”. (Not that I have ever been accused of an abundance of grace to begin with)

Asking for help is an essential human behavior, and like most behaviors, it can be taught, learned, mimicked, and improved. Parents of toddlers know all too well how behaviors good and bad can be mimicked.

As El Duderino reaches his third birthday this is a skill I’m trying to improve in myself, so that I may provide a better example to teach him.

So the next time El Duderino starts screaming for help like he is going down over the atlantic, and the reason is that he can’t cram anymore play-doh into the cab of his matchbox dump truck, I have to remind myself that this is a teaching moment, and we could all use a little help.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

A long run, a quick run, and a warm up before an EMOM kettlebell sandbag blowout

Flying Solo

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week my wife got away for her much needed escape which left me home with both boys flying solo.

This was the first time I had been alone with both boys for an overnight, and with the knowledge that no reinforcements would be coming.

Please fasten your seatbelts in case we encounter unexpected rough air

I decided to go to consult the operations manual to see what kind of helpful procedures would get me through. Much to my chagrin, there was no ops manual, (despite how many times I’ve told my wife that each child should have been birthed with one). In lieu of a manual, I decided to lean on my only other area of formal training, aviation, to help me through.

Thorough preflight: ensuring your craft is airworthy before heading up is a must. I tried to get my house in order, so to speak, before my wife left. This meant plans for activities, meal prepping dinners for El Duderino and I, and having bottles locked and loaded for Speedy, (especially in the case that he woke up in the wee hours of the morning)

Homemade crab cakes meal prepped for the duration of mommy’s excursion

Expanding your team: often times as pilots we can’t know all the information or have all of the expertise to complete the mission by ourselves. We need to rely on those around us and their expertise to arrive safely. Chic-Fil-A was a welcome part of the team and a much needed distraction for all of us. My wife also provided the idea of feeding Speedy in the car seat for a more mobile, one handed meal operation.

I’m very lucky that both boys were well behaved and (other than a quick one hour hiccup the first night) slept well. El Duderino played very well with Speedy, and was very understanding when his brother needed a little but more of my attention.

Workload Management: inevitably, some parts of the flight have significantly higher workload than others. Any work that can be done ahead of time during the low workload periods should be accomplished at those times. This meant washing and prepping bottles, rinsing diapers and doing other laundry, and even sneaking a workout and my mobility routine in was relegated to when one or both boys were sleeping.

Kids and Kettlebells, Speedy checking my simple and sinister form from the baby gates in the background

Known Threats/Expectation Bias: before every flight we try to identify potential threats to the operation. Some are internal, some are external, and some are made of our own biases. Expectation Bias is the idea that you expect something to happen and are likely to react a certain way even if the situation doesn’t happen or presents itself differently. I figured that Speedy would give me a hard time eating from a bottle since it is not the norm for him. That was what I expected to happen and when we was fussy I reacted according to that bias. So it took me a few tries to figure out that his fussiness over the bottle was really about something else.

Debrief: after the plane has landed and another day’s mission is done it is common to debrief the ups and downs normally over a beverage or two. This is a chance to learn, fix, unwind, and tell stories and it is just as important as any of the stick and rudder work. The same is true as parents, at the end of the day what worked, what didn’t, what was crazy, and what made you laugh, (and a beverage or two never hurt)

Venison neck roast tacos on the Z grill with everyone home for the debrief.

All in all the boys and I had a wonderful few days flying solo. There was no blood, minimal tears, and lots of laughs. It was a humbling experience to see what my incredible wife does everytime I go out on a trip, and I’m glad that I could facilitate some time away for her. Even without the ops manual, we managed just fine, and I found out coordinating a 3 year old and a 7 months old’s schedule is trickier than any crosswind landing.

Highlights from my wife’s well earned trip

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.