Baring It All

So yesterday was pretty overwhelming. I thought it might be. The entry from October where I posted comparison pictures had, up until now, gotten the most hits of any post I've put up... and I was fully clothed in those pictures.

I knew it was important to post my before and after pictures to make myself face the reality of where I've been, where I am, and get focused on where I want to go. It makes the journey real and worthwhile. Those results are tangible and measurable and seeing myself in all my fish-bellied glory is something that I needed to keep myself grounded and remind myself of why I work hard. Why I need to continue to work hard. As much progress as I've made, I am far from ready to kick back and take it easy.

Another reason I thought it was important to post the pictures is because it was challenging. It took me way out of my comfort zone, and that's where the most growth happens. My sisters joke that I am Amish or Mennonite because I have an aversion to wearing anything I deem to be too revealing, especially low cut shirts. They will argue that "low cut" is relative and that my idea of too low is anything lower than a turtle neck. This is a gross exaggeration and I will stand by that statement. Truthfully though, I've just never really been comfortable in my own skin. I've been ashamed and embarrassed and I guess I felt that the more I've been able to keep covered up the more I could protect myself...from teasing, from judgement, from any number of things.

The first step to getting over my extreme modesty was actually being in the car accident, and I was pushed head first into that when I was cut out of the Jeep, moved to a stretcher, and promptly cut out of my clothes in the middle of the street by members of the volunteer fire department and rescue squad. That is still one of the sharpest memories from that night - how cold it was and how mortified I was to be in just my bra and underwear with all these random guys standing around, never mind the fact they were probably more concerned with the bone sticking out of my leg. Anyone who has been hospitalized for any amount of time or has had a baby can attest to the fact that there's no use trying to be modest when you're hospitalized. The reality of being bed bound with two broken legs, unable to sit above 60 degrees for three months is that there are many things you simply cannot do for yourself including going to the bathroom, bathing, and getting dressed. I learned very quickly that unless I wanted to be dirty, naked, and covered in my own filth, I was going to have to accept help from whomever was available when these needs arose - be it nursing students who I had sold textbooks to (praying they didn't recognize me or remember me when I went back to work), somewhat creepy middle-aged male nurses, my Mom, my sisters... it took a lot of deep breathing and going to another place, it never got "comfortable", but it was eventually just part of my daily routine and part of my reality.

 
In more ways than just physically this blog has helped me put myself out there to the world. I've never been this honest and open about my life and my feelings and I think it's made me much more confident. Being honest with myself and the world is slowly chipping away the armor that I've so desperately clung to for so many years - especially since there's been so much positive response from everyone that has been reading my posts and following my journey. This journey has also been largely about learning to be strong and independent - learning to fly with my own wings, as my friend Amanda once told me. Not just standing on my own, but moving beyond that and truly soaring. When people see you flying with your own wings, she said, they take notice. I feel that when I'm writing and sharing my story with others is when I'm able to fly.

It's still a little weird to me though because I feel like I'm baring my soul to complete strangers and there are people out there in the world that know a whole lot about me and I don't even know their names. It's even weirder to think that people who I know from high school or college, or people I see everyday, have read my blog and now know way more about my life than even people in my family ever did. I almost feel like I should sit down with these people and get them to spill out their innermost thoughts and feelings. It's only fair right? Reciprocity isn't what this is all about though. At its core this blog is a selfish way for me to get my feelings out and reach out into the world and not feel so alone. By seeing that people are reading and commenting and sharing it with others, that's a fair enough trade for me. The added bonus is when I get messages and comments that I've helped someone else or inspired them in some way.

Writing comes easily for me, sharing my writing has been a little more difficult, but definitely worth the anxiety of hitting the "publish" button and instantly freaking out about how it will be received. It's humbling to check my stats and see that a post has been read by 100 people. To think that there were that many people who found what I had to say worthwhile amidst all the clutter of the Internet is pretty cool. When I checked my stats today and saw this, I was blown away.

I find it both crazy and awesome that in one day my story reached over 850 people (at the peak). If it made a difference to even one of them, or helped even one person decide that they were ready to change their life, then I would post a million half naked pictures of myself, every day of the week. (Don't worry, I won't - that's too much for even me!)

Thank you all for your support, encouragement, and for being my people to reach out to. I hope you'll stick with me through the next year, it ought to be a great one!

So Far...

Earlier this year a friend introduced me to the band Delta Rae and I immediately connected with their music. One song in particular, Is There Anyone Out There, has become a little bit of an anthem for me on this journey, as the lyrics just seemed to land perfectly on my soul, especially these:

 

So far from where I started.

So far from where I wanna be.

I often feel like I focus more on the second part of that lyric than the first; only looking at the road ahead without appreciating the miles I've already walked. Finishing up my first year this week gives me the opportunity to do just that. So many changes have taken place over the last year and there are so many ways that I can measure the progress I've made.

 

The first and most obvious measure is my weight. When I started CrossFit last April my sole focus, driving force, reason to WOD, was weight loss. My big audacious goal was to lose 100 pounds in one year. I could have done it. I came pretty close. I decided back in January that I was going to give "not weighing" a shot and see how things went. I was only going to weigh at competitions. In hindsight, I don't think I was quite ready to let go of the scale. I started out last April at 353 pounds and I weighed in at 120 kilos (or 264.5 pounds) at the RVA Open, which is only 1 kilo (2.2 pounds) less than I weighed in for the Baltimore Open in February. 2 pounds in 2 and a half months is not what I'm used to. During my Whole 30 challenge and the first several months I was averaging 10 pounds a month.

 

The only things I can point to as to why I only lost 2 pounds from February to April are that I was too lenient about my diet and that my training has been more strength focused and less "high intensity functional movement" focused - ie, I've been focusing on my Oly lifting and not doing CrossFit workouts. It's likely that my diet has more to do with not losing weight than my training, but both are areas that I need to evaluate moving forward and make sure that I'm getting the most out of both if I want to continue to see the scale go down. I think I'm also going to bring the scale back out of the closet and weigh more often. It's one of the only things I have right now to keep me accountable. I always get the "you're building muscle" argument when I bring this up, and I get it, I really do, but I honestly don't want to be 265 pounds of muscle. I don't think I'm quite at the point where I don't still have fat to lose and or that I'm pound for pound replacing my fat with muscle.

 

Nevertheless, 88.5 pounds is still a lot of weight to lose in a year. It's more than I've ever lost with any other diet or exercise plan. I can't always tell the difference, but I can definitely see it in pictures. When I look back at some of the pictures from the year before I started CrossFit, I can't believe that I was ever that big. I knew that I was, but it has started to feel like I'm looking at a person I don't know anymore when I see them.

I'm starting to get more comfortable with and confident about my new body, but there are still things I'm not happy about. I'm having to come to terms with the reality that being as big as I was has consequences and even as I lose weight, things don't just spring back into place. It can be a little disheartening, but I try to focus more on what my body can do now rather than focusing on every minute detail of how my body looks. I can squat deeper, lift heavier, move and run faster, jump higher, and get up off the floor - all with less pain and less struggle than a year ago. Walking and standing are even easier. The other day I spent 3 hours on my feet prepping food and cooking for the week and didn't even realize that I had done so without pain until I was finished. I used to not even be able to stand long enough to wash a load of dishes without my back hurting. That's huge.

 

From head to toe I am a smaller person now. I have lost weight in my face, I have a neck now, I can feel my collar bones (it's much more painful doing cleans without that padding), I found my ribcage, my stomach is much smaller, I can feel the muscles in my arms and legs (no more cankles), and I even went down at least a half size in my shoes. I have replaced my work wardrobe 3 times in the last year. I started out wearing anything from a 26/28 to 30/32 or 2X-5X (depending on the store) and a 9 to 9.5 wide in shoes. Now I can wear a 22 in dress pants/jeans and a 12, 14/16, 18/20 in workout pants (again depending on the store). I can wear large unisex/women's XL or a 14/16 in shirts. My shoes are now 8.5. I am able to borrow clothes from my Mom for the first time in more than 15 years. When I lived at home and had to help with my sisters' laundry I used to fold their clothes thinking, "there's no way anyone can wear something this small" - now I say the same thing about my own clothes. I can't believe that I fit into these sizes...I still feel like I'm so much bigger than I am. Another big goal for me has been being able to wear the cute women's clothing options out there, especially in regard to workout clothes. I know it's not all about looking cute at the gym, but I didn't want to feel frumpy and manly either. Women's clothing is sized weirdly so there are still certain brands that I can't get into yet, but I recently got my first workout tank tops and am slowly building a dangerous Lululemon wardrobe.

It's a little weird mentally for me to exist in this new body. I don't know myself as an adult at this size and in my head I'm still much bigger than I am in the mirror. I look at myself in person and in pictures and I see the parts that I don't like magnified. I carried (and still carry) the bulk of my excess weight around my midsection, and even though my butt and belly have shrunk considerably, they are still the biggest parts of me. I need to just accept that for what it is and focus instead on the parts that I do like. I'm pretty fond of my calves and deltoids lately. I'm still not super comfortable letting people see my before and after pictures, but I think it's an important part of this journey and I'm proud of my progress. I have also found that being courageous enough to post them has helped others, so here is my full year of progress (though I don't have a picture for every month):

 

 I didn't get a good head on picture for day one, but this is a comparison of my progress at the end of my Whole 30 challenge and my progress after 1 year: 335 lbs vs. 264.5 lbs

 

 And finally everything comes full circle from Day 1 to Day 365:

 

I look forward to the day when I can shift my focus away from weight loss and be content to focus on my performance as the main measure of success, I'm just not there yet. Long term I don't really have a magic number in mind. I can't imagine myself at any weight lower than 200 because it's been so long since I was that small and I haven't seen the 100s as an adult. I've always thought it would be cool to be one of the "People Half Their Size" that get featured in People magazine, which would put me around 176. I've thought about it in terms of which weight class I compete in, but as a 75+ kg lifter, I would need to be under 165 for the next lowest class... that seems awfully small to me and I don't want to look sickly. What I do know is that I want to be under 200, just for the sake of not weighing 200 pounds. Once I pass that landmark I hope that I can be okay listening to my body, continuing to build muscle, and letting my performance dictate how I ultimately fall into a good weight for me, whatever the number on the scale ends up being. 

 

I also look forward to saying goodbye to Day One Ginny for good and letting Day 365 Ginny be my new "before." I may still be far away from where I'd like to be, but I will continue to move forward with frequent glances in the rear view mirror to appreciate how far I am from where I started.

 

From Day One

This week leading up to my one year anniversary has been really stressful and I've been taking stock of all the things in my life that have changed over the last twelve months. I have a pretty creative mind and active imagination, but I never would have dreamed this last year of my life. I am so glad that I started this journey and I want to thank someone who is responsible for helping me start it.

Even though my first day of CrossFit was April 21st, when I did my first Saturday novice WOD, my CrossFit journey actually began 3 days earlier on Wednesday (pretty much a year ago today). For several months prior I had passed a small brick building in downtown Roanoke on the way to and from work. I watched people running down the street, lifting weights, and I noticed the sign on the windows, www.brickhousecrossfit.com - "I'll have to look that up..." I would tell myself. I kept forgetting by the time I got to work.

After I got back from a business trip in Charleston where I had been unable to walk a mile without excruciating pain, I took note of Brickhouse again. This time I remembered to check out the website. I spent the next few weeks reading and re-reading all about WODs, and infinitely scaleable, high intensity, functional movements, and watching athlete profile videos, and looking at all the great pictures of all the Brickhouse athletes. I really wanted it to be something I could do, but I was convinced that because of my size and my jacked up legs that it would be too difficult.

For some reason I couldn't give up on the idea and with a doctor's appointment looming that I was sure would be painful and disappointing, I summoned up my courage for the first time and spent a good hour drafting the perfect email to adequately explain my unique situation and choosing the exact right words without sounding too crazy and full of excuses, took a deep breath and hit send. As fate would have it, the server blocked the email and it bounced back.

I had two choices, give up, or go ask my questions in person. As I drove back by the little brick building on my way home, I noticed everyone was running outside and there was a guy standing by the front door with a "Coach" shirt on. I pulled into a parking spot the next street over and walked back down to the little brick building and stepped tentatively into the door to find the guy in the "Coach" shirt, and that's when my journey began. I started asking questions and he started explaining, all the while keeping an eye on the other athletes. He patiently listened and firmly knocked down each excuse I put up - "but what about my knees, I was in a car wreck?" - "what about the floor and the weight plates, I'm allergic to rubber?" - "How do I get started?"

I left the little brick building that night still freaked out and nervous, but I went home and signed up for the novice WOD, talked my doctor into giving me the okay the next day, and never looked back. I truly believe that my talk with this coach played a huge role in convincing me that I could do CrossFit. That he believed I could do it before he even saw me try. When he became my main CrossFit coach a few weeks later I got to see first hand that not only did he believe in me, but he cared about me succeeding. In the beginning it was really important to have a coach that took the time to teach me and support me and reassure me. As time went on, another important thing that he did for me was be the person who would push me, and not let me quit, and call me out on my nonsense.

As much as I needed the calm and understanding coach, I needed the firm "put more weight on the bar", "why don't you try running 400 meters?", "just do it", "do you want this?", "where's your hook grip?" coach even more. Every time quitting or stopping even flew into my mind, he would appear beside me to knock those thoughts out of my head with a "you've got this" or "forget about the number, just keep moving." When I was secretly pleading for a coach to come over and let me stop doing crab walks because I was clearly struggling, or tell me that I didn't really have to do 80 jumping pull-ups - 15 was plenty, I am glad he never did because I needed to have a person in my life who wouldn't let me quit. Who wouldn't let me off easy. Who wasn't going to put up with my excuses. Who would convince me to show up even when I thought I was too sore.

I played rec softball and and JV volleyball and threw shot and discus on the track team my senior year, but I never had great connections with any of those coaches. In fact, most of my experiences with sports coaches were not very good. I know that I'm needy and I appreciate the fact that someone like me can be a lot of work, especially in the beginning. It's probably much more difficult to mold a hard block of clay into something than it is to work with something that's already a little more malleable, like a college athlete. I'm glad that he found it worth the extra effort. Even though he hasn't been my coach for almost 8 months now, I consider my first CrossFit coach a good friend and he is still a person who is there for me and patiently answers my questions (even though I'm sure he rolls his eyes at his computer screen) and does his best to reassure me and support me from 5 hours away. He also still calls me out when I'm being ridiculous and making excuses.

Getting to be there for my coach.

Coach Adam has been part of my journey since day one and I don't know that it would have even started without him. I'm glad that he'll be able to coach me through my competition on Sunday as this first year of my journey comes to an end. If you don't have a person like this in your life, you need to get one. Your person doesn't have to be a CrossFit coach, but I think everyone needs someone in their life who is not only there for them, but who pushes them to be better, and calls them out on their foolishness. It could be a friend, family member, coworker... but find someone who pushes you outside of your comfort zone and leads you to the edge of cliffs you didn't think you'd come close to jumping off, but who you know won't let you fall on your face - or will at least be there to laugh with you and then help you back up when you do.

When the Going is Tough

I thought things were difficult when I started CrossFit. I thought that it was scary and challenging and painful. It was not a comfortable situation physically, emotionally, socially...CrossFit was difficult because it was so outside of my comfort zone. It was actually more difficult living with being overweight, living in pain, and being miserable. Changing your life is difficult, but looking back, starting wasn't the hardest part. The first four months weren't even that hard. When everything is new and exciting and everyday brings a new challenge and a new PR, that's the easy part. When it's fun and things get comfortable, that's when it's easy.

I'm finding that what is difficult is sticking with something when it isn't new, and isn't fun, and when you don't get a PR everyday. Keeping up with your training when you don't see immediate results. Continuing to try when you struggle and feel like you aren't making progress. Showing up when you don't feel your best. Not wanting to, but doing it anyway. Deciding that maybe your current path isn't the right one at this moment, that's pretty difficult.

And that's where I've found myself over the last two months. In a bit of a crisis of faith that what I'm doing is the right thing. I've found myself questioning if maybe it shouldn't be such a struggle and should be more fun. Wondering if I'm really trying my hardest, or if I even want to try any more. Bouncing back and forth between grasping for new resolve with a renewed attitude and spirit and just trudging through the motions.

For a number of reasons, all this questioning has brought me to a bit of a crossroads. After much discussion with people whose wisdom and opinions I value, I've decided to take a bit of a different path for awhile. I like to think of it as a parallel route, with several cross streets along the way that I can turn back on at any point in the future. I'm not completely leaving CrossFit behind, but I am going to put it on hold for now. I love CrossFit and everything that I have accomplished so far and I had a great time competing in the Open, but I feel like my heart is in a bit of a different place right now.

Me and Cara, my Olympic lifting coach

Many people use CrossFit as supplementary training for another sport and up until now I haven't had another sport, but I've found myself really drawn to the Olympic lifting aspect of CrossFit. I'm not the greatest lifter yet, but I feel like it's one area where I have the potential to excel. I enjoy how deceptively simple the snatch and clean and jerk are and I like being able to focus on all the nuances of those two lifts. Over the past two months I've starting training with an Olympic lifting coach and I am going to continue this going forward. I only have one competition scheduled right now, in two weeks, but I look forward to training hard and competing more over the next year.

I will continue to train at District CrossFit and I'm signed up for CrossFit competitions in June and September that I still plan to do. CrossFit just won't be my main training focus for now. I'm excited to see what I can do in the sport of Olympic weightlifting and what I can do with focused training and coaching on my lifts. This is going to be a new start for me and I need to remember that the starting isn't the hardest part. I'm a little nervous to start a new chapter of my journey, but that's what this whole last year has been about. Being courageous in the face of change.

Not Quite the Finish Line

It's hard to believe that I'm only two and half weeks away from my 1 year anniversary. I was hoping to be in a little bit better place at this point of the journey. It was unfortunate that April had to follow March, because March is pretty terrible. It has been for the last 9 years. I don't really like March and March doesn't really like me.

This March was a little better than previous Marches because at least the Open gave me something to look forward to every week and gave me little goals along the way to keep me going, but overall March was pretty crappy, as per usual. I didn't eat very well, I wasn't feeling at my best most days, I wasn't very motivated, I had the blahs and the sads on more days than I care to relive. I felt so crappy that I went home sick from work one day and took an 11 hour nap that I obviously really needed. Ultimately all of those things go hand in hand. I kicked one little pebble and set an avalanche of suck in motion that came crashing into April in spectacular fashion.

Now that the dust has had a day to settle I realize that the only thing to do is stand up, dust myself off, and climb back up the mountain. The good news is that I don't think I fell too terribly far, but I definitely have some ground to make up. I think the problem was that I allowed myself to give in to the excuse that March always sucks for me and allowed March to be terrible. I used it as an excuse to wallow. I retreated back to being the girl from last March and instead of being in a much, much better place going into this April, I feel a lot like I did last year before I started this journey, and it's not a good place to be.

I'm not without a plan. My plan is to continue to change. As I tend to do, I've been thinking a lot this past month and almost made a really drastic change before I had a chance to really think it all the way through and explore every option. I will be making a big change this coming month though and I've basically already started. I just haven't completely wrapped my head around how I feel about it yet and can't quite formulate my thoughts enough to write about it...but stay tuned. Going into my second year I've also got a pretty awesome new source of motivation.

One of the only really good things that happened this month is that my oldest sister got engaged. Up until the last few years our family has been really, really close. I have three sisters and we all lived at home much longer than is probably considered normal. My sisters all lived in the same city while the youngest two were in college and I sometimes feel that made them a little closer to each other than they were to me, so much so that my oldest sister's coworkers were convinced I didn't really exist because they'd never met me. I do have special bonds with all of my sisters and being so far away from them all now has been really difficult for me. I miss them very much and I miss being around people who love me and getting hugs and speaking in nothing but movie quotes and having our private jokes and just getting to share my life with them. We don't talk nearly enough and we don't see each other enough and in the next year I hope that changes.

I'm really excited for sister's upcoming wedding and getting to spend time with all of my sisters (hopefully this summer) and getting to be a bridesmaid for the first time. Other than being healthy, what better motivation could I have than to look awesome in my dress at her wedding? There are too many family photos of us that I love, except that I hate the way I look in them. I'm sick of not wanting to be in pictures because I'm ashamed of how I look. Over the last year that is one thing I've gotten much more comfortable with. Just looking through Facebook I have many more pictures of myself from the last year than in any of the previous years. Pictures where I'm actually smiling and proud of the way I look. Continuing to feel that way is motivation for me to keep going.

I never saw the 1 year mark as a finish line, just a check-point, and that's still the way I see it. I knew I wouldn't be where I wanted to be in just a year. It took longer than that for me to get myself in the mess I was in and it will take longer than a year to get me out of it. The goals that I have for myself are going to take me longer than a year to achieve. As much as I would like to be completely awesome right now, I know that what I want takes more work and determination and time. Lots of time. The next two weeks leading up to my next competition will help me usher in new changes, with new goals, new motivation, and a new resolve to work towards the next level of a new me.