My All

On Monday night the athletes competing in the CrossFit Games were surprised to learn that one of their first events would be a half marathon row which they completed yesterday. One thing that the commentators talked about with the athletes was the mental game and the internal fortitude required in such a long endurance event. To sit and perform the same movement over and over again for more than an hour, close to two hours in some cases, requires you to be able to dig down to the depths of your resolve, to take your mind elsewhere, to ignore everything your body tells you about how crazy you are and how much it hurts and how much it wishes you would stop.

Yesterday I rowed. Not a half marathon, but 200m sprints, 4 times. During each sprint I started out really strong and rowed the first 100m without much trouble, but it seemed like every stroke after got increasingly more difficult. As much as I wanted to maintain the same intensity, each subsequent pull caused my legs to ache more and more and I could feel my energy fizzling out. I kept moving, but as much as I wanted to row the second 100m as fast as the first 100m, each round was a little bit slower. I thought about this on the way home and it was one of the many, many instances where I second guessed my effort. Part of me wants to think that I did my best, left it all on the rower. That I was pushing as hard as was physically possible, but another part of me knows I probably could have given more. I wondered if my technique was as solid as it could be and if I was rowing as efficiently as I could have. I wondered if I had taken more time to set the foot straps on the first sprint would my time have been better? I wondered if my legs hadn't been cramping would I have done better? Mostly though, I wondered if I really gave my all during the workout. All the other wonderings were really just the excuses I was making for not working as hard as I could.

I feel like this happens all the time. Not really intentionally. I never go into a workout thinking, "I'm totally gonna half-ass this one" but sometimes, when I'm not feeling 100%, I just don't dig deep enough, or push myself hard enough - maybe I don't want it bad enough in that moment - to really go all the way up to the edge of the cliff, to kick through the wall, and achieve everything that I'm capable of achieving.

Sometimes I feel like every workout is a long endurance workout for me. Something that might be low intensity for someone else causes me to get buried in the pain cave, struggling to fight my way out. I think we all have that thing, or things, that we have to fight against - be it approaching the bar with a weight on it you think is too heavy, or a workout with a lot of running, or with a lot of box jumps when you really don't want to bang your shins into the box. I feel like my mental fight has been the toughest part. It's not only been a challenge to push myself to what I thought my limits were, but to trust that I can go beyond that point, that my coaches won't let me go to a place where I'll get hurt, and that it's okay to reach the point of failure - it's really the only way to find the limit.

Initially I just wanted to keep moving. I hated having to stop and sit down and catch my breath. I'm not sure that I always had to stop, but that was the first part of the fight for me - to keep going when I felt I had to stop. I fight to do more reps in a row than I thought I could. I fight to run further than I think I can. To get to the point where my body or my brain says stop and I tell it "No, do a little more and then we'll rest." I've found my line to be much farther away than I thought it was, but I'm pretty sure I can go beyond where the line is now. I'm not convinced that I've ever really reached my breaking point, though it's felt that way more than once.

Not every workout is high stakes. It's not as if you win a prize for finishing first on every Metcon, so it might be easy to think that pushing yourself to the breaking point every day isn't necessary. However, if you never go to that place when it "doesn't matter" how will you ever know what to do when you get to that place and it does matter?

Another thing I struggle with is pushing myself enough throughout the workout and not just in the last minute. In an effort to not completely burn out in the first minute I tend to pace myself too much, take too much rest, break up my sets too much. I always seem to have an extra burst of energy when 1 minute left is called. I discovered this during a competition last weekend. I competed in the Brickhouse CrossFit Classic, a part of the Virginia Commonwealth Games. The first workout was a scaled 3 minute AMRAP of Fran (thrusters and jumping pull-ups) followed by 1 minute of rest and the second workout, a 2 minute AMRAP of either Grace or Isabel (ground to overhead). I didn't do amazing on the first workout, but I tied for second place on the second workout.

Me & Wes, my judge & workout buddy, after Fran/Grace/Isabel
Photo by Brickhouse Media

What I learned later when I was checking the leaderboard is that if I had completed just one more lift I would have tied for first. Two more reps and I would have won the whole event. All I had to do was pick up a barbell and put it down two more times. That would have taken maybe 10 more seconds at the most. So then I got to thinking about how much I rested during those two minutes... was it equal to the 10 seconds I would have needed to win the workout? Probably. Did I really need as much rest as I took during what was supposed to be a 2 minute sprint? Probably not. It's situations like this that make it obvious that I don't necessarily need to work harder on my snatch or clean and jerk to compete better - of course that's important - but more than just improving my skills and lifts I need to improve my mental strength. I need to learn how to push myself to my breaking point more often, even when it "doesn't matter." I need to learn that it always matters. I should always give my all in every workout or I won't be able to when I compete.

Those who are the most successful aren't always the strongest, the fastest, or the ones who can lift the most weight. All those things are important, but it's just as important that your mental game is strong. I turn 31 two weeks from today and 31 is going to be the year of mental strength.

Homecoming

I have news. It's half good, half sad - depending on who's reading. It has been in the works for a few months now, but I finally got everything signed this week and I'm excited to announce that I was approved to become a virtual employee. This means that I'll still work for the same office I work for now in DC, but I'll get to do it remotely from another location, specifically my training facility, the VA Hospital in Salem. I will officially be moving back to Roanoke in about 3 weeks, almost a full year from when I moved to DC initially.

I am mostly happy about this opportunity. I like the work I'm doing in DC, but there's nothing really that I do that I HAVE to be in DC to do. I haven't fully loved living in Northern Virginia, mostly because of the expense and the commute, so to be able to continue doing my job from a much more affordable location is really the best of both worlds, on most fronts. With all the new duties I'm taking at work but not being able to get my position upgraded, I think that this arrangement is a good compromise. Being a virtual employee means an extra level of responsibility with less supervision and the opportunity to shift the focus of what I do and come at it from a different perspective. It's really the best way that I can see to move up in my position, without actually getting a promotion.

I'm also excited because being located in the hospital again will mean that I'll be able to interact with volunteers and Veterans, which was one of my favorite parts of the job while I was an intern and I've missed it being stuck in a cubicle buried in data all day, every day. Voluntary Service is all about those relationships and being removed from that aspect makes it easy to lose focus on why we do what we do and what our mission is - helping Veterans. The volunteers and Veterans are more than just the numbers that I track on numerous spreadsheets that I send to numerous names in databases. The real human connection part of our service is one thing I'm looking most forward to in coming back to the hospital. I'll get to be involved in a lot of the special events and head up some special projects from a field level and see them implemented first hand instead of trying to figure out everything via phone and email.

The extra money that I'll save living in SW Virginia and a much, much shorter commute will mean more time and money I can devote to training, eating better quality foods, sleeping more, recovering better. I started off the year in DC guns blazing, but over the last several months I've lost focus and it's been harder and harder to devote my everything to working on my goals. The added stress from the whole work/money/commute hasn't really helped. I look forward to being able to train unlimited at Brickhouse again and take advantage of living in town, possibly getting a bike, and being more active and involved in my community. Even though I wasn't born there, the Roanoke Valley is my home. Before I moved to DC I lived in SW Virginia for 20 years. I miss the small town feel and running into people you know from when you were younger and being around my relatives.

My coaches Quinn and Hank finishing Murph with me.
Photo by Mike LaPierre

The sad part is that not everything about DC was completely terrible and there will be things I'll miss. Just the fact that I got to live and work in our Nation's capital for a year is really pretty cool. I think the view of the monuments as you drive into the city on 395 is spectacular. Walking by the White House every day or by the Nationals stadium on the way to the gym. Just working in a city that people from all over the world come to visit, as annoying as tourists can be, is a rare opportunity. Even in the short time that I've been here it can be easy to take for granted how special it is to be a part of a city with so much history.

Obviously what I'll miss the most is my DCF family. When I signed up for my test out at District CrossFit with Josh, just about 11 months ago, I didn't expect to make friends or to be accepted. Much like when I started at Brickhouse I was nervous and tentative and intimidated. I also went into the situation with a bias and was reluctant to let people in. I didn't think I would find people again who would care about me. I was very wrong. From the first time I got to hear Quinn cheering me on through a tough kettle bell WOD I knew that District would be a place I could call home. It took a while, but I started to feel that Team DCF was embracing me as one of their own and supported me, even when I was just on fringe, holding down my platform. I know I may have isolated myself and I wasn't always in the group classes this year, but now as I get ready to move on I realize what a great


AM Girls vs PM Girls Tug of War
Photo by Mike LaPierre

group of people I'm leaving behind. The last year was pretty tough for me and it's probably no secret that I've wanted to leave pretty much every second since I got here. It's been a struggle but I feel like it was a good experience for me to have. I owe so much to my team at District CrossFit. If I didn't have DCF I would have been lost this year. I'm going to miss our epic barbeques and getting to know everyone outside of working out and the big events we had like the AM/PM Class Warfare, Battle for the Capital, and Murph. The AM Girls vs. PM Girls Tug of War is easily my favorite memory from DCF.

Hope on the National Mall
Photo by Mike LaPierre

I will miss being a part of the huge DC/Northern Virginia CrossFit community, making friends at other boxes around the area and seeing them at competitions, and participating in events like Hope on the National Mall. Being in DC gave me the opportunity to work with Cara at CH Fitness and Performance and I am a much better weightlifter because of the time I got to spend with her and our Monday night small group. Working with Cara gave me the opportunity and confidence to compete in Olympic Weightlifting and I've made great friends in that community as well. I hope that I am able to stay in touch with everyone and that when I have to come back to DC for work I'll be able to visit. I know I'll get to see people at competitions around the state and hopefully see some of them at Regionals next year.

The next few weeks are going to be really hectic as I get everything  packed and try to find a place to live in Roanoke, but I plan to make the most of the time I have left and get as many hugs and high fives as I can from my team at DCF. When I knew I had to leave Roanoke I didn't expect to be as sad as I was and I didn't think getting to move back to Roanoke would also make me sad. I didn't expect to get attached to my team, but such is the nature of CrossFit. What we do binds us together - it's impossible to not form lasting relationships with the people you train with every day and we'll always share that bond.

Change can be many things - exciting, scary, sad, frustrating...the mix of conflicting emotions is what makes change so difficult. I think this last year has covered the entire spectrum and I'm looking forward to what lies ahead. As my sister would say "I have a lot of feels."

Walk On

CrossFit for Hope on the National Mall
(photo by Mark Zaragoza)

Intellectually, and because a lot of people have told me so, I know that many of the things I have done over the last year have been to some extent remarkable and inspiring to some people. I still have a hard time thinking of myself as a remarkable and inspiring person. If you take away circumstance, what I do is not special. Lots of people can run and jump and lift weights and swing kettle bells. They do it everyday. When I do it, most of the time it feels ordinary and like a hot, sweaty, slow, struggling mess. I am impressed with myself, most of the time, when I'm able to do things I didn't think I could, but it's still hard for me to understand how someone who can do a 40 inch box jump could turn around and watch me do an 12 inch jump and be impressed. It's weird to me. It probably always will be.

Yesterday I went kayaking on the Potomac for an hour and a half, and while it was difficult and a great upper body workout, I wasn't that surprised that I was able to do it. I got more excited that I didn't exceed a weight limit on the kayak, that I was able to pick up a life jacket off the pile and have it fit me, and that my new swimsuit was an 18 and not a 32. I have gotten used to being able to do athletic things and they don't scare me and I don't find myself deterred by a physical challenge as much as I have in the past. I look forward to long walks and I don't get panicked figuring out how I'll be able to get where I need to go. Of all the things I can do now, as much as I love snatching, walking is my favorite. Walking is the thing that impresses me the most. Walking is such a simple task that most people take for granted, but as something that was once very difficult for me, conquering it and making it once again a simple task I don't have to think about is probably my greatest accomplishment of the last year.

Way back, two years ago, before CrossFit, before the YMCA, treadmills, Cardio Jam, and Aqua Zumba, I started walking. Almost every doctor, when trying to encourage activity in someone that is morbidly obese, will advocate walking as the place to start. Be it a mile, a block, an hour, a minute. Just start walking. Get moving. That is what I did. The VA Hospital in Salem is a large campus on about 200 acres and the loop around the facility is 1.2 miles. I started walking it with my Mom after work. It was brutal. We would only walk it once and I had to stop at least 4 times along the way. My feet would ache, my back would start to seize up and I had designated benches laid out as checkpoints so I could sit, catch my breath, ease the strain on my back and knees, and then start again. As tough as that was I felt accomplished at the end of the loop.

Most people, I think, take walking for granted because it's something they've always been able to do for as long as they can remember. They don't have to think about putting one foot in front of the other to get somewhere. It's as natural as breathing. Most people don't remember taking their first steps, even if there's some home movie of them doing it, because they were babies when they learned. Only if you've had to relearn to walk will you remember what taking those first steps feels like. I remember the first time I got to walk in the pool at the beginning of June 2004 and that day at the end of July of the same year when I stumbled through the house, without a cane or walker, looking like a mix of Frankenstein and a baby deer, hands outstretched touching the walls for stability. I remember tripping and falling down and being terrified that I'd hurt myself. I remember what it was like to have to plan every step and will each muscle to move. To have to worry about how I placed my foot and having to work on balance drills with a physical therapist 3 times a week so I wouldn't fall over when I shifting weight from one leg to the other. I had to learn to trust my bones and muscles to do their jobs.

It took the better part of a year for walking to be "normal" again, but as an adult having to go through the process of thinking about walking, it became "normal" for me to do so. To start gauging the height of every stair and preparing myself to move. Even though I didn't have to, I was still thinking about walking because it was still difficult. It was painful and tedious, not only because of the accident, but because I was so overweight that something that should be simple, like walking, was pretty much the most painful activity that I had to do.

One of the things I've grown to love the most about DC are the long walks I take to get to and from District CrossFit. I can take the Metro to get there, but back in September when I first started at DCF NW and now in the last month since I've restarted my focus on CrossFit, I made the decision to spend the extra time I had after work and before class to walk through the city. The route is 1.3 miles and I never have to stop and sit down. I've even started walking back from CrossFit to the Metro near my office, so I'm walking twice as much every time I go to the gym than I used to back when I started walking at the VA. And I don't have to think about it, and it doesn't hurt, and I enjoy it. I think that's pretty cool.

Last night when I was walking back from the boathouse I thought about walking again, not about how to walk, but about how cool it is to walk and enjoy the scenery and the summer breeze and admire the illuminated Washington Monument, and not have to think about each and every step that gets you from A to B. It's a pretty great feeling.

Integrity

In an effort to immerse myself in the world of Olympic Weightlifting, a month or so ago I started listening to a couple podcasts including The Weightlifting Scoop (Team MDUSA - Coach Glenn Pendlay, Travis Cooper, James Tatum, and others from the team) and Weightlifting Talk (Attitude Nation's Jon North and Ryan Grady, and Travis Mash of Mash Elite Performance). Being a relative baby in the sport, it's difficult to wade through all of the information that's out there and I'm learning that everyone goes about things in a different way. It's also hard to separate CrossFit philosophies, from Weightlifting and Powerlifting philosophies. It's important to remember that while all of them have some component of lifting weights, they're three separate sports. But information is power and I try to absorb as much as I can - it's also pretty entertaining.

One reason I enjoy Weightlifting Talk is that Jon (Weightlifting), Travis (Powerlifting), and Ryan (CrossFit) all come from these three different worlds and are able to offer insight on training from these different perspectives. It's also kind of cool because I actually got to work with Travis when he coached me at the MDUSA Team Tryouts, and we've kept in touch via Facebook and Twitter, so it's kind of like listening to a friend on the radio. I wouldn't say that I agree 100% with everything I hear from anyone in regards to weightlifting philosophies. I view it a lot like I view religion in that it seems like a lot of different answers to the same questions, but not knowing enough about it all on my own I find it difficult to latch on to any one person's specific philosophy and follow it as if it were gospel. I try to take in everything I can and try to digest it, but in the end I also have to take into account and trust the coaching that I receive first hand.

Today on Weightlifting Talk (https://www.spreaker.com/user/weightlifting_talk/das_efx) - around the 85 minute mark - they got into talking about steroid use in weightlifting and how the American weightlifters are at a disadvantage at the Olympics and on the world stage because of the United States Anti-Doping Agency and the fact that it seems obvious that Team USA is in the minority when it comes to adherence to the anti-doping rules set forth in Olympic and International competition. In short, the playing field is not level when other countries aren't forced to follow (or find ways around) the rules that the Americans are held to. It makes it difficult for USA to bring home gold medals as "clean" athletes, when other countries aren't playing fairly.

I am very much a rule follower, and value integrity in myself and others, so it was upsetting to hear someone that may represent our country admit that if he wouldn't get caught he would use steroids in a sport where it was already commonly used, even if it was against the rules. I'm sure that this is a common thought among many athletes, so it's not the fact that Jon would admit to thinking this that was upsetting, it's the idea that our athletes would have to feel that breaking the rules is necessary to win or that winning at all costs is what is expected of them. I posed the following question to Jon, Travis, and Ryan on Twitter during the show today:

 

 

I agree that the situation isn't fair, nor is the playing field level, but in the history of the modern Olympics, in several sports, the USA has faced similar fights. Not only in adherence to anti-doping policies, which seems to always be a concern in the Olympics, but also in the fact that United States pitted amateur athletes against paid professionals from other countries. While in many ways, for many years, this put our athletes at a disadvantage, it didn't mean that the USA never brought home gold medals. In fact, the "Miracle" 1980 USA Hockey Team proved that amateurs can go up against the best athletes in the world, against all odds, and emerge triumphant. To me, that's what makes the Olympics so awesome.

I've always held United States Olympians in the highest regard. I've wanted to be an Olympian since I was probably 5 years old. I idolized Mary Lou Retton and Kim Zmeskal. As a little girl I was convinced that I would one day train with Bela Karolyi and win an Olympic gold medal. That is, after all, the whole point in competing in the Olympics, right? To win gold medals? Except that I've always thought that being an Olympian was about much more than the prize. Being able to put on a red, white, and blue uniform with USA emblazoned across your chest and represent your country in front of the whole world. To compete with pride and integrity with the best in your sport. Win or lose, from that point on you are always an Olympian. Like being an Oscar Nominee, you will always have that tag line with your name. Just to make the team is an honor.

I was fortunate enough to train this year with Olympian Cara Heads Slaughter who competed on the 2000 Olympic team in Sydney, Australia. I'm not going to lie, but I was severely star-struck at the thought of getting coached by an Olympian. How cool is that?! How many people get to say their coach competed in the Olympics? Even though she didn't medal, I don't think of her as any less of an Olympian. It doesn't matter to me that she didn't win a medal, It doesn't make her any less of a great weightlifter. It doesn't mean she knows any less about the sport or how to teach others.

Being an Olympian is something that no one can ever take away from you, unless of course you cheat. Then you can have that title stripped, your medal (should you win one) taken away, as well as all the honor that you may have once had. To me, bringing shame to your country by cheating to win gold, even if you don't get caught, is not worth the gold medal. I have way more respect for the athletes that have competed for the USA with honor and integrity, even if they didn't medal, than I have for someone from another country that didn't follow the rules and gave a super-human performance to win gold. The medal doesn't matter as much to me as integrity.

It's easy for me to sit here on my high horse saying that I would never cheat to win, because I have never been in a position to have to try to win a gold medal for my country. I've never felt the pressure of the hopes and dreams of an entire country. I've never been faced with competing in a sport where I know the field isn't level and everyone isn't playing fair. But I can understand how frustrating it can be to work your hardest and know that because of things out of your control, your best may never be good enough to win. The difference is that I am okay with not winning because I was taught that it isn't whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game. And I believe in it. Yes winning is nice, and if you aren't playing to win, why play? I'm all for keeping score and having winners and losers, but I'm personally not willing to compromise my integrity to win. I wouldn't feel good about it. Any victory I didn't truly earn, fairly, would be tainted and worthless. Even if no one ever knew and I never got caught, I would know. I still feel weird about the bronze medal I got at the RVA Open, because there were only 3 lifters in my weight class - did I win bronze, or just come in last place?

Think about it this way - if we agreed that it would be okay to break the anti-doping rules, because everyone else was doing it and it would level the playing field... where would it stop? Who gets to pick and choose which rules to break? Why not just hire a goon to bash in the kneecaps of your competitors and take them out of the picture all together? It's a very slippery slope.

According to Wikipedia, the ultimate source on everything - "Integrity is a concept of consistency of actions, values, methods, measures, principles, expectations, and outcomes. In ethics, integrity is regarded as the honesty and truthfulness or accuracy of one's actions. Integrity can be regarded as the opposite of hypocrisy, in that integrity regards internal consistency as a virtue, and suggests that parties holding apparently conflicting values should account for the discrepancy or alter their beliefs. The word "integrity" stems from the Latin adjective integer (whole, complete). In this context, integrity is the inner sense of "wholeness" deriving from qualities such as honesty and consistency of character. As such, one may judge that others "have integrity" to the extent that they act according to the values, beliefs and principles they claim to hold."

If all that matters to you in life is winning, no matter the cost, and playing within the rules that others have created (by breaking the ones that were mutually agreed upon by society/the governing body of your sport), then by all means... But, if you claim to live an honest life and value your integrity - you should be able to be proud that you have done your best and you are a person of honor, regardless of how others act and behave, and regardless of whether or not you "won" a medal. Is there really any victory in a dishonest win? Will you be able to sleep well knowing that you cheated to win? And in the end, say you do cheat, you do win - but you get caught and have your medal stripped from you and you're banned from your sport forever? Was winning really worth it? Are you any better off than if you had competed honorably and lost? Why not ask Lance Armstrong?