Sunday Night Thoughts … Yoga NO thank you, and Then The Pandemic Happened…

I think the problem was people. This whole time it was them and their stretchy pants.

I tried going to a studio once. A couple of times actually. Wooden floors, water bottles, rubber tree plants and all that. I tried it and it just didn’t vibe with me. I tried to like it, I wanted to like it, but it wasn’t for me. I wasn’t feeling the benefits at all and I wasn’t feeling good after class. You know the first time you try a new adventure you feel anxious or nervous, or that I-just-don’t-want-to-go feeling, but then you go and you’re grateful you stepped out and made the trip? Yeah … that didn’t happen. I didn’t feel great about it, I thought eh … that was all right. I guess.

Not the feeling you’re supposed to get.

So I forgot about it and thought, this is not for me, never gonna be for me, and that’s fine. It’s not for everyone.

Fast forward 15 years later in the middle of a world-wide pandemic and here I am with my own yoga mat and blocks. And you know what? I look forward to the Zen vibes it gives me afterward, of the feeling I get when I’m done, like I just did something good for my body.

It took a pandemic to make me friends with yoga.

Everyone looked to different ways to stay healthy or find an outlet during these tough times. Those of you who had home gyms, swimming pools, and all that … good for you. Some of us had to get creative with crack of dawn outdoor schedules so as not to run into anyone, inside strength training or boxing. But then I realized I needed something quiet, something that gave me the same feeling as swimming in the pool. That relaxing vibe, the calming effect of the water on my skin, even though I was working on my muscles at the same time. And since the pool was no longer an option I thought … I’ll try it one more time.

Just one more time.

Needed something additional, an outlet during the lockdowns, or stay-at-home orders. Needed something that was filling up the inner peace tank that was slowly being emptied because of the conditions and circumstances. So I came across a virtual/online opportunity and thought why not? Maybe it’ll be different.

And it was.

Most people don’t like videos or apps, they prefer the live studio classes, but apparently I’m OK with that. That whole entire vibe didn’t make it last time so why not change something around. Try it on my own terms in my own environment. 30 minutes. That’s all I needed to make a change. The same amount of time as a Schitt’s Creek, Community, or Kim’s Convenience episode.

I could do that.

And that’s when I found Denis, Ross, and Aditi.

Warrior 2, Triangle, Sun Salutations, Flow, Savasna. Yup. I was digging it and so were my legs and arms. Each class made me feel better. Started off right and each instructor had their own vibe, their own playlist featuring their personality and style. Yoga is not just happening during the woo-woo New Age music. You can strike that pose to Prince, U2, 80’s or rock. And I appreciated that.

I felt those feel-good vibes after I was done. The peace-in-the-morning feeling after the run and yoga combination, or just the yoga alone. Healing session in effect. I realized it wasn’t the yoga that was bothering me the times I tried it back in the day, it was the group of people, the music, the whole vibe. It didn’t sit right with my spirit. Maybe I wasn’t in the right space to benefit from it. Or maybe the at-home style works best for people like me.

Learning a lot about boundaries, and people, the importance of good relationships and letting go of bad ones. Learning big lessons and small ones, discovering new shows on Netflix, podcasts, and good books. I’m grateful for the time with the kids, and learning to be a better parent. But one of the biggest surprises was yoga. I’m still not into tight stretchy pants, but yoga during the pandemic in sweatpants? That was a good discovery. Surprisingly good.

Buen Camino!

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Got An Extra High-Five For That One

I remembered no one being on that track other than myself. I remembered that breath I took when it happened. I remembered my face catching the sun as I looked up and smiled.

You know, I know I didn’t need the validation. In fact I knew I had done more … a lot more. I had reached the milestone way before the ticker clocked it in. But for some reason recording it made it more official … made the moment feel more like a-haaaaaaaaaaaaa!

 

 

And the thing is I wasn’t even planning it, the 100 just sort of snuck up on me.

I knew I had already run 100 miles in my lifetime, probably multiple times before discovering the app, but the fact that I had done it and done it in such a short amount of time felt empowering. And the weird thing was that I always hated running but as I’ve gotten older I appreciate the quiet moments on the track and feeling like I’m in my own Gatorade-Nike commercial.

I enjoy the pool even more, I know my knees do, but the weather hasn’t been conducive to a dip in the pool, plus I don’t have one. So there’s that too. Driving out to the non-heated pool in the early hours wasn’t something my body was looking forward to, but putting on sweatpants (I think I may be the only one on Earth to still own a pair of those as everyone else has those yoga pants or tight pants, it’s a tight pants nation) sweatshirt, a beanie, and hitting the track, that seemed doable. And free.

Starting off slow saying to myself I’ll just walk, I’m not in the mood really. I’m tired. My mind is tired. My body is tired, the kind of tired that all parents know very well. But as  I walk the loop on the track, I hear the crunching sound my shoes  make as the gravel meets the treads.

I like that gravely sound. It makes me walk faster and then I rethink the whole walking thing. I think maybe I’ll just run a mile and then it turns into two, sometimes three.

And at the end of the run as I’m pumping my arms, out of breath, racing to the imaginary finish line I feel good. I catch a second wind and feel invigorated when I stop. It isn’t about the calories burned it’s the way I feel at the end. It’s the gravely sound I hear, the peace that comes over me as my breath slows down, the quiet that I needed in my heart to start the day right.

It’s an awesome feeling. The bottle-me up kind. And the fact that I clocked in 100 miles during this process … just makes it even better. Felt like I accomplished a little bit more. I gave myself an extra high-five for that one.

 

Not All Accidents Suck … Four Months Later, I Have Orange Gloves

There are a lot of things I would never call happy accidents. Accidents by definition usually suck. However sometimes there are exceptions …

I forgot my daughter’s water bottle in the car. That’s where it all started.

So after returning to the car to get it, going back into the classroom to give it to her and then heading back to my car I ran into this mom. She tells me about this thing called Muay Thai and I was like what?

I’m not of the Jean-Claude Van Damme fitness level, nor do I want to get punched in the face. She assured me it wasn’t that type of class. Intense and driven, but not at the Bloodsport level.

My other excuse was the fact that I was wearing my Big 5 Sweatpants with the hole in the right pocket that was expanding to the outer layers of my sweatpants. The kind of pants usually reserved for household cleaning when no one sees you, or running on the secluded track at the park where distance and a long t-shirt hides the hole. I wasn’t in the mood to be judged by people who wore matching stretchy outfits at a gym

She again assured me it wasn’t like that.

Just try it.

First class for free.

Well I had nothing to lose then.

Little did I know that four months later I’d be excited about Tuesdays and Thursday mornings. Muay Thai Mom Madness had slowly crept up and made it’s way into my inner circle. And that mom? I think she’s lost over 18 pounds and another mom lost like 36 pounds. Me? I gained two.

Funny.

It’s all good. I didn’t really join this Muay Thai Madness for weight loss, because I feel good in my skin. I joined for a different reason. One familiar to a lot of people in sports. So when the coach recently asked a few of us for references, I was more than happy to oblige. I was able to let others know about my reasons and hopefully convince them to pick up a set of gloves and have my coach introduce them to Thailand.

Here’s what I wrote …

 

I’m not in the picture, but it’s still a great shot of the class.

 

Dear Future Muay Thai Warrior,

I loooooooove my kids but there are some days when you wake up and motherhood beat you down by 9 a.m. You get lost and forget yourself. You forget you used to be badass. That’s where Coach Patrick comes in … I go in like Clark Kent and come out like Superman … Superman in Orange Venum Muay Thai gloves.

And when I walk in all I want to hear is … Esooooooooooo!

If Coach  says that, I smile because I know I’ve done a good job. I know my left hook made an impact. I know the right power punch found the sweet spot on the pad. I know he’s proud of his student.

Some people like to go to class as part of a training regimen for their next fight, others are looking for a new exercise routine to help them stay in shape. But what I look for is how it makes me feeeeeeeel and how it’s become part of my active lifestyle. I love triathlons and obstacle racing, but have also embraced Muay Thai as a way to turn the corner when I lose my balance in life. With his welcoming nature and powerful kicks, Coach infuses the class with technique, style, encouragement, and awareness. His contagious passion for Muay Thai creates an inspiring environment that helps students reach their personal goals.

But not only do you walk away from the class with great combinations, knowledge of Muay Thai, and the ability to knock out an unassuming attacker, you also walk away feeling empowered. That’s something I always look for in whatever I do. So whatever drama, or disaster, life, motherhood, or work awaits, I have this bring-it-on attitude, because I just walked out of Coach Patrick’s Muay Thai class, and I got this. Esoooooooo!

Feeling inspired?

Try something out. You never know. Not all accidents suck.

 

 

America Ninja Warriors On The Playground

Feeling inspired by all the American Ninja Warrior madness, I decided to take my kids out for Worldwide Day of Play! Not that the Guats needed an official excuse to go outdoors, but having a Day of Play celebrated across all Nickelodeon Channels … well that just had Playground America Ninja Warrior written all over it.

I can’t tell you how inspired and addicted my kids are to that show. I feel grateful that they get pumped up after watching stuff like the Olympics, Spartan Races and America Ninja Warrior. As they watch, they’re leaping, running, climbing, and stretching across their kid-made pillow infused obstacle course in the living room. I like that they feel like they can come out in their own Gatordae commercial and that they push each other through these imaginary obstacles and time limits.

I used to wonder what kind of kids I would have when they were still in diapers. Whether they would be avid sports fans and enjoy the Saturday college football rituals, volleyball at the beach, 5K mini runs, Olympic TV watching marathons, or catching a game at the stadium. I was hoping they would be, but you never know.

So when they cheered on athletes during the Olympics that made me smile, when they root for the Kings on the ice it feels good, when they  raise their arms in the air and scream as our team scores a touchdown it warms my heart, but when they created their own obstacle racing adventures on the playground and crowned themselves champions because they  conquered Mount Midoriyama I was high-fiving them all day. When they fell off the course and splashed in the imaginary pool, I enjoyed hearing their post interview, explaining what they think went wrong and how they were going “to try harder next year”. However I will say that the monkey bars still leave me with tiny calluses … My badges of honor.

So … regardless of whether we had an invitation, The Guats celebrated Worldwide Day of Play the America Ninja Warrior way. Hope you guys got out too.

 

 

I Have Umph …

 

They made my commercial 🙂

 

 

 

Up For Round II

You were able to fight, jump, and claw your way through it. It was a total Gatorade-commercial-worthy moment. You held your arms up like Rocky Balboa, out of breath but doing the boxer shuffle and feeling pretty badass.

But … Do you really think you’d do it again?

Dude. Yeah. I would.

I’d buy a lifetime supply of Ben Gay, Advil, and CVS ice packs just to show how much I love him.

Yup.

I’d need all those medicine cabinet supplies for my weary bionic leg, because climbing 1,400 steps in honor of my Dad is a mission.

A crazy one, but one worthy of all my efforts.

 

Image via FightForAirClimb.Org

Yup. I did it. I’ve signed up for the American Lung Association’s Fight For Air Climb Adventure … again.

Yup … 63 stories of grueling adventure await me.

I wouldn’t do that for just anybody, but for my pops I’d do it twice.

 

My Dad … talking about dreams … me trying to listen.

 

He was a Rooter of the Underdog, A Laugh-Until-You-Crack-Me-Up Enthusiast, My HBO-Watching Buddy, The Remote-Control Master, The I’m-Broke-Right-Now-Can-You-Help-Me-Out-Financier, The Bucket List Adventurer, The Random-Acts-of-Kindness Missionary, The Häagen-Dazs Hogger, and The Wingman to My Dreams.

My Dad … the fierce adventurer who couldn’t swim very well but often jumped into the deep end of my uncle’s pool with, no floaties, just to prove that anything is possible if you’ve got heart and guts lived an unfinished life. He died of Interstitial Lung Disease about three years ago at the age of 62. But I carry his spirit on my shoulders in everything I do and with every adventure I jump into … he’s there.

He never said I couldn’t do anything even when others constantly believed it. He was the Rocky Theme Song to my life, and now I carry that soundtrack with me as I travel through life’s journey without him. And it is in honor of his life, and of his spirit, that I choose to scale the second tallest building in the city and race my way to the top with my best Chapulin Colorado efforts in hopes of raising money to further research and find a cure.

The countdown is on … stay tuned.

 

I Wasn’t About to Be Defeated This Morning

All I wanted to do was go running. And I hate running. It’s bad for my knees, my joints, and just all around bad for my Icy-Hot loving body.

But I do it because it’s the only high-impact crazy aerobic exercise I can do in half an hour where I can feel my muscles working their ass off, and apparently I need my body to be working properly for at least another twenty-thirty years. Dying is not something I look forward to, I would hate to die and leave my kids motherless at such a young age. It’d be heartbreaking, and sure I imagine some people would try to step up to the plate and help raise them, but in truth … there’s no one like me and no one that loves my kids the way I do. I feel I bring out the best in them or at least I try to.

I’m pretty sure every parent feels that way. So in an effort to live longer I do a little running during the week. Apparently exercise prolongs your life so I’m all for that. But it also helps keep me in shape for my triathlon experiences, and it’s the only exercise I can do with my toddler. She sits in the stroller eating her Cheerios, checking out the scene, and reading books. If I had a pool I’d totally be swimming in it no doubt. If I had one of those kiddie ride along seats for my bike, we’d be cruising away. But I don’t. I’m broke-ass. So I do the poor-man’s exercise and run … surrounded by nature. It’s free.

This is not what I usually look like, but I imagine I would look this cool.

But I really don’t look forward to it. Crazy enough I’d probably enjoy it more if it was attached to a triathlon. I’d be running toward something, not just running for running’s sake. I’m not a fan of that, but you do what you gotta do.

However this morning … it appeared that the odds were against me.

As a mom you try to be on schedule. Everything is on a schedule. If something goes awry in the schedule it creates a ripple effect for all the events the rest of the day. So your job as a mom is to try to keep to the schedule, try to avoid meltdowns, try to keep the dominoes in line. The schedule is your friend and when you betray your friend in any way it comes back to you. So in an effort to stay on schedule I had a small window available for my you-need-to-exercise activity. But like anything with schedules you need to go with the flow, otherwise your crazy will just get the best of you.

9 a.m. to 10 a.m.

That’s the window.

9 a.m. Changed my kid’s diaper before leaving

9:05 a.m. Packing the Cheerios for our outing.

9:06 a.m.  My kid apparently needing the Cheerios immediately and can’t wait ’till we’re outside in the stroller.

9:07 a.m. Cheerios all over the floor.

9:15 a.m. Cleaned up and finished re-packing Cheerios.

9:17 a.m. Found iPod, missing headphones.

9:25 a.m. Still missing headphones, but found a mini-speaker.

9:30 a.m. Phone rings. I don’t want to get it. I know I can’t get it. The schedule. If it’s important they’ll leave a message.

9:31 a.m. I get a message saying my mom needs me to look something up on the computer.

Dude.

9:32  a.m. I decide it can wait twenty minutes.

9:33 a.m. Grab my keys, turn to look for my kid, ready to go … unexpected potty situation that went beyond wipes. It called for soap and water.

9:40 a.m. Put my newly diapered kid in the stroller, wiggled the stroller over a couple of rocks, and then Bam! The handle bar broke.

It just broke off. Plastic screwed in by metal shouldn’t break off this easily, especially if it’s a Chicco Stroller. Not a fancy jogging stroller, just a regular one the kind you need at places like the mall. But considering I’ve had it since my first kid, I figure it had a little wear and tear that might have contributed to it’s demise.

So I stood there with the handle bar in my hand debating what to do next. My window of opportunity was closing, the universe seemed to be against the whole running outdoors idea. I wondered whether or not I could steer the stroller without it. Could I just hold it from the cup holder/key area? Did I have any duct tape?

No.

Could I still do this somehow?

I don’t know. Maybe.

9:41 a.m. Determined to go for a run, I popped the handlebar back in on one side. It was still clinging for life on the other side, desperately wanting me to put it out of its misery. However I ignored its pleas and tied it with some rope and forged ahead, holding onto the cup holder area the best I could, because apparently I suck at tying knots.

It was sad sight, but necessary. I made up my mind that I was going running and even though I don’t like running I wasn’t about to be defeated this morning. Not by anything. I’m stubborn that way.

The Great Outdoors … My Lunkless Ticket To Fighting Fat Cells

 

 

The Lunk Alarm.

Apparently some people take offense to it. I thought it was funny because it’s true. There are all kinds of people at the gym. However just like anything else this doesn’t happen in all gyms, but it does happen.

I remembered The Lunk Alarm this weekend as I was hanging out with friends and we were all talking about weight loss, eating habits, and the constant body changes after having kids, and the changes currently happening as we are all reaching 40. They all talked about what they could and couldn’t eat, self-restraint, gluten allergies, and portions. We all talked about trying to keep ourselves healthy and the work it took to maintain healthy lifestyles.

Apparently I’m not the only one who feels that it gets a little harder as you get older.

Tired becomes a factor. Tired from work. Tired from school. Tired from kids. Tired from marriage. Tired from a busy life. Tired becomes a problem sometimes.

And as it became my turn to chit-chat about my outlook on the matter, I admitted, tired is a factor Most definitely. I admitted parts of my body have changed, maybe not the same ones as everyone else but nevertheless stretch marks and fat cells are part of my I had-two-kids life.

And food? I’m in love with it. I admitted to the Claim Jumper size portions. I admitted my love for pasta and that I ate it at least four times a week. My adoration for chocolate. I was a food lover who had seconds, and thirds. But I did admit that because I had a deep Food Network type of amor for food, I did have to get off my ass and workout.

It just made sense.

I had to.

If I ate whatever I wanted, I needed to make sure that I got some exercise in the process. But what I failed to mention was that I hate going to gyms. All these sweaty people in one place, crowded workout areas and the Lunks walking around staring at themselves in the mirror and then staring at themselves again naked in the locker room. Yeah that’s really not for me.

It’s all good that you’re beefed up or that you’re “hot” … dude fantastic. You’re great eye candy, and a nice distraction for me and everyone else I imagine. High-five to you, but sometimes you’re a little too free with your body around me.

I’m all about freedom, but I love my personal space.  It’s mine, but sometimes staying out of my one-foot radius while you’re naked becomes a little too difficult for you while you’re blow drying your hair, brushing your teeth, applying make-up or sitting down. All while you’re naked you do this. I’m clothed. I’ve got a towel. I’ve got bra and panties. I’m good, but skin on skin contact is not allowed, not even feet or elbows. Not even accidentally.

So because I value the non-naked personal space radius, I don’t go to gyms. They’re just not for me. And I know not all gyms are like this. I know, but I happen to prefer The Great Outdoors anyway.

I like to do things that don’t make me feel like it’s an actual workout. Sports. Swimming. Biking. Hiking. Dancing. Boxing. Martial arts. Any outdoor recreation is good. Triathlons are good. Races are good. I’m not reminding myself that I’m working out, because I’m actually having fun.

I’ve never found that working on a Stairmaster is fun for me, even if I have the best playlist on my iPod, it’s just something I don’t look forward to … it feels like a chore. The Great Outdoors … that doesn’t feel like a chore at all. The Great Outdoors makes it possible for me to stuff my face … to eat carbs. It makes the non-workout, workout possible. Plus it has less naked people bumping into you. The Great Outdoors … my ticket to fighting fat cells and stretch marks that are trying  to kidnap my 40 year-old body.

 

 

Finish Line Baby, Finish Line

I’m hoping the yoga worked, because The Countdown is on!

I’m already writing my thank you note to the creators of IcyHot.

I’ve got five days. In five days I tackle my yearly challenge: The TinMan Triathlon, not to be confused with the IronMan, but pretty badass nonetheless. I still get black ink finely printed on my awesome calf muscle and tricep. Once I see it, I’m transformed. No longer the mother of two: diaper changer extraordinaire, referee of superhero cape battles, Lego mastermind builder, and Nickelodeon remote control screener. I’m no longer the struggling writer who gets the it’s-not-you-it’s-me rejection letter. No longer a wife or daughter just trying to stay above water. It’s just me … the Guat … TinMan candidate.

Image via Durtbagz.com

I’m looking forward to that feeling. I’m looking forward to the starting line and enjoying my New Balance hit the pavement, my feet staying on the pedals, and my toes splashing in the water. And even though I’ll be sweating, and huffing and puffing, I’ll probably be enjoying every minute of it. Maybe not the Mission Impossible uphill battle of Devil’s Canyon. But once I reach the top, and hopefully not fall and break a valuable appendage while speeding my way down, it’ll be all good.

But this won’t be the best part.

As I mentioned before, the best part will be watching my son run his first triathlon: The Tiny Tots Tricycle Triathlon. I look forward to watching him smile as he crosses the finish line. I look forward to the thumbs up he’s going to give me. I look forward to taking our picture together with our matching medals. It’s cheesy, but it’s been on my Bucket List-Life-to-do list and his Sandbox Adventure List. He wants to be like Wreck It Ralph and get a medal and he’s been training well.

The biking and swimming sessions seem to be going well for him. The running? Well let’s just say he takes after me … he doesn’t thoroughly enjoy it unless he’s chasing a baseball, football or soccer ball. He sort of just trots his way around the track, but if he sees someone else running in front of him he feels the urge to speed up and pass them. So I’m sure when it comes to the race, he’ll be all right.

Me? My training?

It’s going slower than usual and time hasn’t really been on my side. So I had to do some things that I normally would never do.

Never.

But I’ve done what I had to do — whatever it takes to make sure I finish the race before my son starts his. So I’ve sacrificed. Sacrificed something valuable.

Sleep.

I wake up at the crack of dawn to work out. I hate dawn. I’m more of a dusk kind of person. Dawn is for sleeping, especially when you’re a night person and go to bed at midnight or 1 a.m. I tried the go-to-bed-earlier routine, but my internal clock doesn’t let that happen. I’m used to decompressing and enjoying the awesome quiet of the night. Meditating. And I’ve realized that I really need my Namaste moments, otherwise I’d probably throw someone off a cliff.

So I sacrifice sleep. I flop out of bed to ride a bike, run, and yes even swim. And I’ve got to say out of all the early-bird routines, the swimming seems to be the most relaxing. Surprisingly I flop out of bed with less hostility when I know I’m hitting the pool. Still cranky though, but not as bad.

However, all of it for a good cause. Finish line. Need to make the finish line so that I can see my son cross his starting line. That’s what I keep telling myself when the alarm rings at 5:30 a.m. That’s what I tell myself again after I hit the snooze button. Finish line baby, finish line.

 

 

The Rematch … It’s On Devil’s Canyon … It’s So On. I’ve Got Backup This Time

It’s that time of year again … the time when I challenge my weary bones and muscles … the time of year when I pretend I can swim freestyle knowing full well that it never works and I just end up swimming the backstroke and floating my way to the finish line. It’s that time of year where I step out of the “mom” box and step into the badass frame of mind which lasts up to 24 hours, then I go back to being defeated. It’s … Tinman Triathlon time and Devil’s Canyon awaits.

Pinche Devil’s Canyon. It’s on … It is so on.

Image via Durtbagz.com

 

I’m counting down. I’ve got about two months to whip this Guat body into Tinman shape. Don’t get me wrong the Fight For Air Climb certainly put my quads where they belong, it’s just the rest of my body that needs to cooperate. Specifically, the old parts. The parts that take Glucosamine and something called CoQ10. But I’ve decided to add some yoga and stretching to the mix, because my lower back seems to be aging faster than any other part of my body. Although my knees are a close second, and I’m afraid I’m going to need both to conquer Devil’s Canyon. So if you have any pointers feel free to share them.

However this time, the Tinman experience will be different. The training will be different. I’ll have someone there. My son. My four-year old son has agreed to enter the Tiny Tots Tricycle Triathlon. A super miniature version of the race and I’m excited to see him cross the finish line.

This of course means that I’ll be doing double duty when training. I can’t really go at full speed when training with him, so I’ll have to do my training whenever I can get it. This usually means at the break of dawn, which sucks for a night person like myself, or it can happen in the dark of night where suspect people usually walk the streets and I have to keep my Hapkido skills on high alert. Win-win I guess, but at least I have one day during the weekends where I can get my muscles up to Tinman status.

My son is pretty much at Mini-Tinman status when it comes to biking and running. He’s pretty high energy all we have to do is extend the road he covers. However we do have to practice our swimming a bit more, so the Lightening McQueen floaties and goggles will be making an appearance.

We’re both excited about the event and all I’m hoping for is that he finishes the race. He doesn’t need to be first. He just needs to finish. As for me? I don’t need to be first either. I just need to conquer Devil’s Canyon. It kicked my ass last year and I’m hoping the incident doesn’t repeat itself. In truth all I want to do is finish my race before the Tiny Tinman race starts. I want to be at the starting line cheering him on and be part of his pit crew when he gets on his bike. So I definitely need to get into kick-Devil’s -Canyon’s-Ass Shape.  It’s a rematch. Definitely a “Thrilla in Manila” type of event.

Stay tuned.

 

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