Where I Was

...is not where I am now. And that's okay. At least it will be after I convince myself that it is. After I've told myself that it's okay enough times and I start to believe it. Until then, I'm faking okay, most days.

2013 Barbells for Boobs - Pink Bra Tour
Photo By Simple Times Photography

Except yesterday. Yesterday I was really okay. It was the first time in a really long time that I felt okay about everything. I didn't feel "less than" and I didn't feel awesome, but I didn't spend the whole workout frustrated because I had to scale everything or I couldn't do as much as I wanted to or I wasn't doing as much as everyone else was. I knew what I could do and I listened to my body when it got angry with me (most of the time) and I did my work. Did I push myself a little too hard and end up shaking on the floor when I got off the rowers? Unfortunately yes, but I was eventually able to get back up and feel good about the 98% of the time when I hadn't pushed myself too hard.

When I started CrossFit I didn't get frustrated as much as I do now. Starting from zero everything was up, all the time. I was scaling SO much more in the beginning but it didn't bother me like it has the past few months. I was able to shut out everything and everyone around me and just focus on my effort and the work in front of me. Almost everything I did was better than the last time I did it so I rarely felt down about what I was able to do - that's not where I am now. And it is okay. It has to be.

Where I was a year ago, even six months ago, is different in a lot of ways. I made choices over the last year that put me where I am now. I focused on weightlifting for several months. I took time off.  I got injured. I don't have the stamina or intensity or endurance that I had a year ago. I'll get it back, but I have to work at it really hard. Some days I can do more than others, but it's something I have to feel out one day at a time. One movement at a time. At the end of August when I was in Kansas City I snatched 103 pounds, solid. Tonight I had to pull back and only power snatch an empty bar and my hook grip felt painful and uncomfortable again. But my technique was good and as much as I wanted to put more weight on the bar I had accept that the bar was good enough. That the empty bar is my reality right now and it will just have to be all up from here again. From where I am now.

Grace

My first time doing Grace with Amanda and Alicia.

Grace is my girl. Grace is one of the CrossFit "Girl" WODs. Of the 8 or 9 "Girls" I've taken on in the past year and a half of CrossFit, Grace is the first, and only, one I've been able to do RXd, or exactly as written. I know that scaling workouts is part of CrossFit, but even though I've done Fran, Elizabeth, Nancy, Annie, Diane, Karen, and Jackie, etc before... I don't feel like I've ever really done them because there were parts I couldn't do, like pull-ups, or ring dips, or handstand push-ups, or double-unders. But 30 clean & jerks at 95lbs for time? That has me written all over it. Grace is even more special to me because I got to do it RXd for the first time with my coaches Amanda and Alicia right before I moved to DC.

A few months later when Brickhouse started posting about their Barbells for Boobs fundraising event and I learned the workout would be Grace, I really wanted to go home to be a part of the event. Unfortunately I had already scheduled a trip home for the weekend prior and I wasn't able to make two trips in a row. I still wanted to participate in the fundraiser and try Grace again, but my new gym wasn't doing it, so I looked online and found out that CrossFit Reston was pretty close and was also hosting the workout. Even though I would have rather been with friends at either Brickhouse or District, I was enjoying experiencing different CrossFit boxes and the way I saw it, Barbells for Boobs wasn't as much about where I did it as it was about doing it. Raising money and awareness to provide mammograms for those in need. Helping save lives through early detection. Taking on Grace again and going for a PR.

I wasn't sure what to expect but hoped that CrossFit Reston would be as welcoming as the other boxes I visited and I was pleased when I was warmly greeted and taken in by the coaches and athletes there. The coaches took us all through a warm-up, explained and drilled the movements, started the music, started the clock, and we took on Grace together. Side by side. Some people breezed through, others struggled. Not everyone did the RX weight, one woman in her pink "Lifting for Two" t-shirt used dumbells instead of a barbell.

Photo By: NOVA Sports Photography

I was excited to do the RX weight, and proud of the impressed looks I got when I stated my intention to do so, but I knew it would still be a challenge for me. It didn't seem as daunting though knowing that I was lifting in the same heat as an athlete from CFR that was battling cancer herself. My fight with the barbell, my fight to lose weight...both paled in comparison to her fight. A few minutes of struggle with a heavy weight to help raise awareness so that others might not have to face that fight? No problem. 

The greatest part of the whole event, for me, wasn't getting an almost 4 minute PR (though I was totally stoked about that) it was being one of the last to finish in my heat and being surrounded by athletes who didn't know me, having them cheer me on and count down my reps, and high-fiveing me when I finished. Being embraced by the CrossFit community. 

This year I'm back home for Barbells for Boobs and I can't wait. As one of the top fundraisers from last year, Brickhouse CrossFit was chosen as an official stop on the Reebok Pink Bra Tour. I won't be able to do Grace RXd this year, but again, it's just about taking on a challenge, raising awareness, and having fun with my friends. Being a part of the community.

Brickhouse CrossFit is located at 521 Salem Avenue
in Roanoke, VA. The event starts at 6:00pm.

I have been incredibly lucky to have not been personally effected by cancer. Knock on wood, no one in my immediate family has either. I know that I am in the very rare minority in this respect. Until recently I didn't really even know anyone close to me who had battled cancer. I will be doing Grace to support those who haven't been so lucky. For those who might not have someone to support them. I would invite all of you, anyone and everyone, to join us for the event this Friday. Even if you don't do CrossFit. Even if you've never picked up a barbell...what a better time or reason to try?

If you can't make it out to take on Grace with me, try to find one in your area, or please consider contributing to the cause by visiting my fundraising page: http://fundraise.barbellsforboobs.org/fundraise?fcid=259459 

Ode to the Newcomer

The following appeared on the District CrossFit blog last September, right at the end of my first month as a DCF athlete. At the time it was exactly what I needed to hear so I saved it in the notes section on my phone and re-read it several times during my low moments in those first few months. I came across the note again today and it still holds a lot of positivity for me. There are several exchanges that I've had with friends over the last year, comments that you all have left on my posts and pictures on Facebook, emails, etc that have been incredibly encouraging and that I refer back to often. I am extremely grateful for everything that has helped or inspired me in some way, even if it wasn't directed specifically at me. 

So, while this was written by a DCF athlete, directed towards the newcomers at our gym, I post it again in the hopes that it will reach someone else who needs a little encouragement today. To the Annonymous DCF Athlete, if you're reading this, thank you for your kind words. It meant more to me than you realize.

Ode to the Newcomer

"For all newcomers to Crossfit and especially DCF - You are awesome.

If you’d look me in the eye only for an instant, you would notice the reverence and respect I have for you. The adventure you have started is tremendous; it leads to a better health, to renewed confidence and to a brand new kind of freedom. The gifts you will receive from listening to the athlete in your head will far exceed the effort it takes you to show up here, to face your fears and to bravely set yourself in motion, in front of others.

You have already begun your transformation. You no longer accept this physical state of numbness and passivity. You have taken a difficult decision, but one that holds so much promise. Every hard breath you take is actually a tad easier than the one before, and every step is ever so slightly lighter. Each push forward leaves the former person you were in your wake, creating room for an improved version, one that is stronger, healthier and forward-looking, one who knows that anything is possible.

You’re a hero to me. And, if you’d stop telling yourself you “can’t do it”, you would notice that the other athletes you cross, the ones that probably make you feel so inadequate, stare in awe at your determination. They, of all people, know best where you are coming from. They heard the resolutions of so many others, who vowed to improve their health, “starting next week”. Yet, it is YOU who digs deep from inside to find the strength to come here, and to come back again.

You are an athlete, and no one can take that away from you. You are relentlessly moving forward. You are stronger than even you think, and you are about to be amazed by what you can do. One day, very soon, maybe tomorrow, you’ll step outside and marvel at your capabilities. You will not believe your own body, you will realize that you can do this. And a new horizon will open up for you. You are a true inspiration."

~Anonymous DCF Athlete

The P's

Pity. What I've been feeling for myself lately.

Pain. Why I've been pitying myself.

Pathetic. Pitying oneself over a little bit of pain.

Patience. A virtue I have very little of, but that I've been trying desperately to summon.

Persistence. Keeping with my rehab plan, even though my scope of activity is very limited, and it's not the most fun, and I miss being part of classes. Continuing to show up and do the work and trust my doctor and take the time to let my back heal.

Progress. Getting to add in more activities that get me closer to being back in class. Not feeling pain while I do them. Setting realistic goals for my recovery.

Being hurt is the pits. It sucks even more when your own ego got you injured and you know it was preventable. But it is what it is. Feeling sorry for myself isn't going to get me better and back to lifting heavy things again. It just makes me feel worse about being injured. I'm finishing up my third week on a restricted activity plan that I can "blame" on my doctor, but in reality I had to ask him to restrict me because I wasn't doing a good enough job of it on my own. I tried imposing my own restrictions and planning to scale back, but in the midst of the workout I would inevitably start pushing past the limit I had set and causing myself more pain.

The first week I was really bummed about it. I could only use the Airdyne (which I called the Devil's Bicycle), strict press with really light weight, and floor press. I was seriously bored and envious of everyone else putting up PRs during testing week and really wanting to participate. The second week was a little bit worse because I started to get in my own head too much. I was letting myself get down about being injured, feeling sorry for myself, feeling like I was never going to get better.

I was starting to feel like I did when I broke my legs. Initially I was optimistic when they told me I would be out 6-8 weeks. It didn't seem so long. I could do 6 weeks. Then 6 weeks became 8, then 12, then 16. It eventually starts to get to you. It's easy enough for a doctor to say "let's give it another month" when he doesn't realize how tough it is to spend another month stuck in bed.

Then a funny thing happened about the middle of last week. I realized how stupid I was being. How ridiculous it was for me to be so bummed out about my little back injury when I had made it through something much worse before. If I could handle being stuck in bed for 3 months, not even able to bathe or go to the bathroom on my own, and then in a wheelchair for another 2 months, obviously not being able to snatch didn't seem so bad. The recovery from breaking 5 bones was much longer than this back injury will be (hopefully), so I needed to just buck up and get through it.

On Saturday I came in to do my workout excited because I had a few more things I could test out. I had a plan to maximize my half hour and I set to it. I was as intense and focused as I could be and didn't look at it as if I was doing wimpy rehab exercises. I changed my attitude and I felt better about the work I was doing. As I keep following my plan I've been able to see that I'm making progress and I know that eventually I'll be able to get back to where I was before my injury and hopefully the work I'm doing will make me even better. I don't even hate the Airdyne so much anymore.

I still really miss lifting heavy though. I was watching videos of some of my past lifts today and found the ones I took the day I got my last snatch PR. 100lbs was a big goal of mine and when I finally hit it, of course I wanted more. I tried for weeks and finally hit 102.5, but then I wanted 105. 105 messed with my head for a long time. Then about 2 weeks before the RVA Open I decided 105 would be mine before the day was over. I had gone for this weight so many times and had gotten so close, but I was frustrated. The day I finally hit it I was at the gym for over 2 hours and missed probably 8 times in a row. It made me feel good to watch my misses today because I realized how my persistence had paid off in that instance and it made me hopeful that I would get back to 105 again and push way beyond that number. It reminded me that I'm capable of a lot as long as I'm patient, and persistent, and stick with my plan.

Wasted Tears

It's been a year today since I sat down and wrote the first post What is Courage? for this blog. I started writing to try and work through all the tough stuff that I thought I was going through at the time. At the time I felt like the world was crashing down on me and like everything was oh so difficult.

Someone, or several people probably, told me that one day I'd look back on that first month (or first several months) and laugh at how silly I was. Now when I look back and read through my entries from the first few months I don't really find much humor in them. I've never been one to not own my feelings. I feel completely justified in being upset, but with a year of perspective I almost feel stupid about how upset I was.

I'm a pretty emotional person and I cry a lot. I'm okay with it. It's almost an involuntary response sometimes. I cry when I'm frustrated, when I'm angry, sometimes when I'm tired. I cry at movies, and books, and sad country songs, and commercials, and sappy internet stories. I cried while I wrote many of these blog posts. I have even been known to get a little misty eyed with pride for someone else's accomplishments - like watching someone win a gold medal. When guys cry, forget it. I'm a mess.

I didn't cry all the time when I lived alone in DC. Not every night, not every day... probably more often than I did the year before, but not an extraordinary amount. Except for during my first week up there. One day in particular, when I'd had a frustrating day at work, and was having trouble figuring out how to get a Metro card, and mistakenly took the bus from Rosslyn to Annandale and it took 2 hours, and I was hungry, and had a headache, and my phone was dead. I started crying on the bus (it really started in front of the guy who finally sold me my Metro card) and I didn't stop for about 4 hours. When I finally made it home to my empty apartment (my stuff didn't get delivered for a whole week) I fell down on my air mattress and cried harder and longer than I had in a long time. I was lonely and tired and frustrated and I did NOT want to be in DC. I felt trapped. I was ugly crying - crying so hard that I got all blotchy and red-faced, and snotty, and puffy.

At the time it felt good to cry that much. I felt like I deserved to be that sad because this was the hardest thing I'd ever had to go through. Except it wasn't really. Looking back those were a lot of misused tears. Tears that should be cried for true pain and suffering. Not because you're lonely and frustrated with your life. Not because you miss you friends. I feel stupid for wasting my epic sorrow tears on something that in the grand scheme of things wasn't really all that horrible.

 

I love this card. I bought with no one to give it to, just because I thought it was hilarious and also a good life lesson. I love this card because it reminds me that on the bad day scale...no matter what happened or how I'm feeling... at least I didn't miss the boat that caused my whole species to become extinct. Right now it's something I need to remember. I need to learn how to keep things in perspective and focus on the bigger picture of life. I need to stop wallowing in self-pity and wasting tears on "problems" that aren't really all that big. I know too many people who have real issues they're facing. Too many people who have, and are, experiencing pain and loss and sorrow. People who are fighting and struggling against bigger things than a strained back and a lack of self-control. Things more worthy of epic sorrow tears than a frustrating, lonely day.

 

 

The Push

I've been in a melancholy and introspective state of mind the last couple of days and when that happens I think a lot. I'm probably at the lowest point of my journey so far right now. Deep, deep down in a valley. One of the biggest reasons that I wanted to move back home is because over the last few months I've been on the down slide to this point and sensing that I was heading down this road I wanted to be back in a place that was familiar and where I felt I would be in the best position to climb back out. That's where I find myself now.

 

In many ways starting from this point is harder than being back at the beginning. I've lost ground in the weight loss arena, I'm mildly injured, and I'm having to scale way back on everything in the gym. One of those things alone can be pretty defeating, but all of that at the same time has been difficult for me to work through. Add in stress, going on work travel, moving and living in a transient state, the chaos of my parents remodeling their kitchen... not to make excuses, but it's definitely taken a toll. I know starting over is harder than starting initially, but I have to look at every day from here on out with the same optimism that I had on day one. It's going to be a lot easier to climb out of the valley and move forward if I can do that. In my thinking about how that's going to happen, one of my thoughts today was that this is going to be a lot like pushing the prowler.

 

Photo by Tim Young

This thing I'm pushing in the picture is a prowler sled. It's one of the many fun toys we get to play with in CrossFit. Sometimes we use it inside, sometimes we take it outside. You load up weight, grab the handles and push it some pre-determined distance. There are many ways to make this exercise more challenging. Many things that factor into the ease or difficulty of the push.

Pushing the prowler on a flat surface, no weight added, on the high handles is relatively easy and can be done fairly quickly and efficiently. Adding more weight makes the sled harder to push. Switching to the low handles adds a level of difficulty. Uneven ground can complicate the issue. Pushing the sled uphill is harder still. Multiple passes in a row is really tough. Up on the high handles, back on the low handles, adding weight each time... this was exactly an event we had to complete in the Garage Games. Each pass was a little more difficult than the last, especially considering that this was part 3 of a 3 part event.

Reflecting on this event today I was able to draw some parallels to what I'm facing right now. Like the prowler, things in life are more difficult when they're more complex, when you're already a little beaten down, and when you add more weight, which unfortunately I have. I learned at the doctor today that since my last competition in May I have gained back 22 pounds. I know I shouldn't be, but I'm ashamed of myself for the weight gain because I should have known better than to let it happen, especially knowing how hard I worked to lose those 22 pounds in the first place. I feel guilty for not being more honest with myself and others about how much I've been struggling and making it seem like things were better than they are. I feel regret for all the bad choices I made. I'm upset that for the last few months I gave up on myself and didn't care enough about myself to fight harder. I'm mad that I let what I wanted in the moment overshadow what I really wanted in the long run.

Ultimately though, shame, guilt, regret, and anger aren't going to help. It is what it is, I am where I am, and I just have to try again to keep moving forward. Like when you're pushing the prowler, sometimes it stops and you can't make it move. Sometimes you need to let go, back up a little bit, get a little lower, put your head down, and start pushing again. You only have to get the sled to move a little and then just keep putting one foot in front of the other and build up a little momentum and eventually you've covered more ground than you thought you could. At least that's the hope. When things get tough you have to focus on the push and not on how far the sled has to move.

Chasing "Her"

BHC Garage Games 2013 - Photo by Matt Borden

From the minute you wake up, step out the door, enter the room, at the sound of "3,2,1 GO"... every second, you see her just ahead of you. Before you even take a step she's nearly out of sight and you can barely make out her perfect ponytail or the color of her adorable outfit. It doesn't matter if you're running, lifting, or just standing still, her form is perfect. Everything you wish you could do someday, she mastered a year ago.  In every area where you feel you excel, she surpasses your best effort. You kind of hate her and secretly wish that you were her. Deep down you know this girl isn't really as perfect as she seems. Intellectually you realize that there's probably something she struggles with or an area she thinks she needs to work on. There's no way that she's really as infallible as you think she is. She probably has a girl she chases, a girl she thinks is perfect, but it's hard to see her faults from so far behind. As hard as you try to catch up, the gap between you never seems to shrink. For every gain you make, she makes one too. Every time you have a set back she pulls even further away.



BHC Garage Games 2013 - Photo by Tim Young

It's hard to not feel discouraged as you chase her. Your pursuit of the girl that is stronger, faster, smaller, more capable, more agile, more beautiful consumes you. Sometimes you don't want to chase her and you wonder why this all has to be a race anyway? You try to ignore her and stay focused on just the road in front of you, but even when you can barely see her you always know that she's still in front of you.  You want to make peace with the fact that you'll probably never catch her, but in some ways the pursuit is what keeps you motivated. Chasing her is a constant. Having someone to chase gives purpose to your efforts. Even if she always wins, even if she's always better, in chasing her you become better than you were the day before. You beat the you that was chasing her yesterday. You may not be as strong as her or as fast as her, but in trying to catch up you can't help but get stronger and faster than you used to be.



BHC Garage Games 2013
 Photo by Tim Young

In time you realize that she isn't the girl to your left or right in class. She isn't the girl at the top of the leaderboard or the girl that wins every competition. You know her better than anyone else, but you've haven't even met her.

She is you.

The girl you chase day after day is the girl you have yet to become. She will always be there. You will never catch her and you never want to because to stop chasing a better version of yourself is to stop growing as a person. You will always be chasing her because there will always be room for improvement, and that realization helps you learn to love the chase.