When I first started forming strength goals, Tiffany told me about the 200 Club, an unofficial "club" of those who reach a 200 pound deadlift. The idea appealed to me, and I set a 6 month goal. By 2/23/15, I was going to deadlift 200 pounds.
My PR on 11/25 was 185 for 3 reps. I was so close, but we'd been spending time on snatch and ignoring deadlift. I was still intent on going to the box, and I pulled up at 5:10am.
Mick arrived shortly and let us in. SWOD: deadlift 5/4/4/3/2, he wrote on the board. Oh yeah, I told myself. Hitting 200 today! I scurried around to build a bar.
"Starting heavy!" Mick commented on my bar. I bent and lifted for 5 reps, then dropped the 135# bar. "Nah, this is light," I said.
I added plates and repped. Added plates and repped. 155#. 175#. 195#. "Wanna add 5 pounds?" I said out loud, channeling my inner Cassie. I chuckled and added 5 pounds. The vaunted 200 pound bar rested at my feet.
I thought of Tiffany and all of her sports psych coaching. Chalking my hands, I clapped twice and shook them off. Turning back to the bar, I told myself, "You've got this! You are strong! This will be great! You've got this!" I imagined myself, hands wrapped securely around the bar, driving my heels in to the ground and standing up with perfect form. Easy peasy.
I wrapped my hands around the bar, thumbs behind and fingers in front. I straightened my knees and pushed my butt back until I felt tension in my hamstrings. I rocked my heels back and felt contact with the floor through my barefoot shoes. I tightened my back and felt my shoulderblades pinch and slide down my back. I looked up, noticed Mick watching me, and tensed. Like a smooth hydraulic lift, I gripped the bar and lifted it with me as I stood.
"Yeah Erin!" Mick yelled and turned to write it on the PR board.
I'm a member of the 200 Pound Club.
Friday, December 26, 2014
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Achieving goals
I jogged into the box at 5:31am. Because I arrived early I had headed out to do a mile run warmup, and I was just getting back. Other boxmates streamed around me as I came in the door. I asked what we were doing, and Monica said, "You don't want to know," as she ran out the door. Uh oh.
Stef was standing in front of the board. I read over his shoulder:
BADGER (40 min cap)
3 rounds for time:
30 squat cleans
30 pullups
800 meter run
Ummm...yikes. Stef and I quickly conferred and decided that I could sub ring rows for pullups. I was intimidated as hell, but I was game to try. Okay. There were only five of us in the class, since it was Christmas Eve. Okay. I could just hack away at it. I'm only competing with myself.
I'm still working on form for squat cleans, and I slowed down considerably with my first 30. While I was working on ring rows Stef offered the option of only doing 400s for the 800s, and I gladly accepted. Gamely I headed out the door into the predawn.
Coming back in from my first 400, my legs were rubbery but I was still in the game. I Approached my bar.
"Break it up!" Stef called to the room. "Sets of 5, sets of 10. Whatever it takes!"
I worked through 8 and paused at the top. Two more is just two, then you can drop, I told myself. I set my feet and squatted to grab the bar. Up. Fast elbows. Squat. Up. I paused. One more... I coached myself through one more and dropped the bar. Wandering the room, I admired everyone else who was just as intent on their game. Phiew. Back to my bar, I broke it up to sets of 5 and got it done.
Ring rows and out the door. It was still cool, and still dark. "Way to go Monica!" I yelled at the tiny figure approaching me. I walked to the top of the hill and jogged. Jog to the street, walk the street, jog to the fire hydrant, I bargained with myself. My legs felt miserable but I kept going.
Back in the box for the last round, I broke up the cleans into sets of five but still my form was failing. I panted and walked it off, tried again. The sets seemed to drag on impossibly, but I finally got them done. I settled in for ring rows and glanced at the clock. 37:36. Crap, I thought.
"Hey Stef!" I yelled. "I'm gonna finish, just watch the clock for me, okay?" I finished my 30 and was out the door.
Goaded on by the idea that Stef was watching his clock to add time onto my 40 minutes, I jogged to the top of the hill. My legs wobbled and my feet seemed to land at odd angles. I focused on my breathing and dropped to a walk. Walking was a struggle, too. My left leg seemed to lag behind my body and I dragged it with me. I was the last one out there of the 5 of us, but I was going to finish.
Turning at the fire hydrant, I faced up the hill. Damn, I thought, and consciously changed my thinking. You're so close! You're almost done! I repeated to myself as I dragged up the hill. I walked to the top of the hill outside the door, then willed my legs to lift and shuffled to the box.
"41:25!" Stef yelled. "Way to go Erin!" He wrote my time on the board, along with a special note that read, 1 mile warm up run, WAY TO GO ERIN! I collapsed on the floor and glowed. I finished. As I panted I also realized I'd finished a WOD with 400s. Another goal met!
"You know, four months ago you couldn't have done that," Stef looked at me.
"I could barely do it now!" I chuckled, still panting.
"But four months ago, you'd have tapped out in the first round," Stef persisted. "Getting better every day, girl."
Stef was standing in front of the board. I read over his shoulder:
BADGER (40 min cap)
3 rounds for time:
30 squat cleans
30 pullups
800 meter run
Ummm...yikes. Stef and I quickly conferred and decided that I could sub ring rows for pullups. I was intimidated as hell, but I was game to try. Okay. There were only five of us in the class, since it was Christmas Eve. Okay. I could just hack away at it. I'm only competing with myself.
I'm still working on form for squat cleans, and I slowed down considerably with my first 30. While I was working on ring rows Stef offered the option of only doing 400s for the 800s, and I gladly accepted. Gamely I headed out the door into the predawn.
Coming back in from my first 400, my legs were rubbery but I was still in the game. I Approached my bar.
"Break it up!" Stef called to the room. "Sets of 5, sets of 10. Whatever it takes!"
I worked through 8 and paused at the top. Two more is just two, then you can drop, I told myself. I set my feet and squatted to grab the bar. Up. Fast elbows. Squat. Up. I paused. One more... I coached myself through one more and dropped the bar. Wandering the room, I admired everyone else who was just as intent on their game. Phiew. Back to my bar, I broke it up to sets of 5 and got it done.
Ring rows and out the door. It was still cool, and still dark. "Way to go Monica!" I yelled at the tiny figure approaching me. I walked to the top of the hill and jogged. Jog to the street, walk the street, jog to the fire hydrant, I bargained with myself. My legs felt miserable but I kept going.
Back in the box for the last round, I broke up the cleans into sets of five but still my form was failing. I panted and walked it off, tried again. The sets seemed to drag on impossibly, but I finally got them done. I settled in for ring rows and glanced at the clock. 37:36. Crap, I thought.
"Hey Stef!" I yelled. "I'm gonna finish, just watch the clock for me, okay?" I finished my 30 and was out the door.
Goaded on by the idea that Stef was watching his clock to add time onto my 40 minutes, I jogged to the top of the hill. My legs wobbled and my feet seemed to land at odd angles. I focused on my breathing and dropped to a walk. Walking was a struggle, too. My left leg seemed to lag behind my body and I dragged it with me. I was the last one out there of the 5 of us, but I was going to finish.
Turning at the fire hydrant, I faced up the hill. Damn, I thought, and consciously changed my thinking. You're so close! You're almost done! I repeated to myself as I dragged up the hill. I walked to the top of the hill outside the door, then willed my legs to lift and shuffled to the box.
"41:25!" Stef yelled. "Way to go Erin!" He wrote my time on the board, along with a special note that read, 1 mile warm up run, WAY TO GO ERIN! I collapsed on the floor and glowed. I finished. As I panted I also realized I'd finished a WOD with 400s. Another goal met!
"You know, four months ago you couldn't have done that," Stef looked at me.
"I could barely do it now!" I chuckled, still panting.
"But four months ago, you'd have tapped out in the first round," Stef persisted. "Getting better every day, girl."
Monday, December 22, 2014
Taking steps forward!
This morning I got an automated phone call. The mechanical voice told me that there was a space available for me in Nutrition 150, a class I wait-listed two weeks ago. Jubilant, I logged on and added the class. I'm taking Nutrition 150 in the spring!
Why am I taking this class? I graduated from San Diego State University in 2003 with a degree in Kinesiology, emphasis pre Physical Therapy. Then I got an AS from Mesa College in Physical Therapy Assisting, and I've been doing that for more than 7 years. But SDSU offers a dual Masters degree in Exercise Physiology and Nutrition Sciences, and that's what I want to do now. And Nutrition is a prerequisite.
And why do I want to do this? Why, indeed. Everything I'm reading and everything I'm experiencing leads me to think that there is a link, and a unity, between variable high-intensity exercise (Crossfit style) and a whole, natural food diet. I want to know what that link is. I want to quantify what happens in the body. I want to explore the changes in metabolic pathway utilization with those two variables intact. And I want to write a book, and sell it, and help people like me. Some people have what I have always thought of as "workhorse bodies": we are stocky and strong and function well on meat-and-veg. Our bodies, you could argue, have evolved less than others and we still need basic, essential activity and nutrition. I want to explore that. I want to understand that. I want to know WHY, so that I can teach other people HOW.
Why am I taking this class? I graduated from San Diego State University in 2003 with a degree in Kinesiology, emphasis pre Physical Therapy. Then I got an AS from Mesa College in Physical Therapy Assisting, and I've been doing that for more than 7 years. But SDSU offers a dual Masters degree in Exercise Physiology and Nutrition Sciences, and that's what I want to do now. And Nutrition is a prerequisite.
And why do I want to do this? Why, indeed. Everything I'm reading and everything I'm experiencing leads me to think that there is a link, and a unity, between variable high-intensity exercise (Crossfit style) and a whole, natural food diet. I want to know what that link is. I want to quantify what happens in the body. I want to explore the changes in metabolic pathway utilization with those two variables intact. And I want to write a book, and sell it, and help people like me. Some people have what I have always thought of as "workhorse bodies": we are stocky and strong and function well on meat-and-veg. Our bodies, you could argue, have evolved less than others and we still need basic, essential activity and nutrition. I want to explore that. I want to understand that. I want to know WHY, so that I can teach other people HOW.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
As for eating goals...
I swear, I jinx myself by saying things are going well.
I in no way take my patients' generosity for granted. It's lovely of them to offer us things, and I really do appreciate the consideration and the thought. The unfortunate thing is that their generosity veers in the direction of food "treats". And you can rest assured that, as with most people, "treats" doesn't mean fruits and veggies.
This morning a patient arrived with chocolate cupcakes iced with vanilla frosting and topped with sugar snowflakes. She baked them for us! I thanked her very nicely and put them in the office.
Then my student's clinic coordinator arrived for a midterm check, and brought us a pound of Belgian chocolates and a pound of peppermint bark. I thanked her and put them behind me while we discussed my student, out of my line of sight in the office.
Then a patient arrived with 4 gourmet chocolate-caramel-nut covered apples from Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. I thanked her and put them in the office.
Then a patient brought us "candy canes" filled with Hershey's Kisses and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I opened those and poured them into a small bucket by the sign-in sheet, so people can help themselves.
Then my husband texted me a picture from his business trip to Portland. He explained that he was going to check his carry-on because he had acquired a new carry on: a huge pink box from Voodoo Doughnuts.
The cupcake I gave away. The chocolate I gave away. The apple I'm saving to see if my husband wants it. The doughnuts...I honestly don't know. A bite of each? Pick one and enjoy it and get right back on track? Ignore them and throw my husband's gift right back in his face? The chocolates and the apple were easy--I looked at them and thought, "If I wanted to I could go straight to the store and buy this for myself at any time." Decision made. The doughnuts...yes, I can get doughnuts any time. No, I can't get Voodoo Doughnuts, and I'm not likely to be in Portland--I'm in San Diego, at the very bottom of California--anytime soon. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. So maybe...a bite of each doughnut I can't get around here? Ugh, I swear!
At any rate, whatever I decide, I know the next step: right back on track. I already have the meals cooked.
I in no way take my patients' generosity for granted. It's lovely of them to offer us things, and I really do appreciate the consideration and the thought. The unfortunate thing is that their generosity veers in the direction of food "treats". And you can rest assured that, as with most people, "treats" doesn't mean fruits and veggies.
This morning a patient arrived with chocolate cupcakes iced with vanilla frosting and topped with sugar snowflakes. She baked them for us! I thanked her very nicely and put them in the office.
Then my student's clinic coordinator arrived for a midterm check, and brought us a pound of Belgian chocolates and a pound of peppermint bark. I thanked her and put them behind me while we discussed my student, out of my line of sight in the office.
Then a patient arrived with 4 gourmet chocolate-caramel-nut covered apples from Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. I thanked her and put them in the office.
Then a patient brought us "candy canes" filled with Hershey's Kisses and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I opened those and poured them into a small bucket by the sign-in sheet, so people can help themselves.
Then my husband texted me a picture from his business trip to Portland. He explained that he was going to check his carry-on because he had acquired a new carry on: a huge pink box from Voodoo Doughnuts.
The cupcake I gave away. The chocolate I gave away. The apple I'm saving to see if my husband wants it. The doughnuts...I honestly don't know. A bite of each? Pick one and enjoy it and get right back on track? Ignore them and throw my husband's gift right back in his face? The chocolates and the apple were easy--I looked at them and thought, "If I wanted to I could go straight to the store and buy this for myself at any time." Decision made. The doughnuts...yes, I can get doughnuts any time. No, I can't get Voodoo Doughnuts, and I'm not likely to be in Portland--I'm in San Diego, at the very bottom of California--anytime soon. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. So maybe...a bite of each doughnut I can't get around here? Ugh, I swear!
At any rate, whatever I decide, I know the next step: right back on track. I already have the meals cooked.
Set some goals!
I don't like resolutions. There's this culture of "start on January 1st, give up in three weeks, and hate yourself all year because you're not doing what you said you were going to do" that I can't get behind. I can't support the idea of expecting myself to fail. Nor can I support hating myself for doing what I expected myself to do. It's all a set up, and I just don't do it.
With that said, I do generally have an idea what I want to accomplish in the coming year. Of course, "the coming year" is from whenever I say it is, not from January 1. Right now I have a series of 10 goals for Crossfit. I've achieved 4 of them, and I'm definitely making headway toward the others.
One of my first goals was to run the 400 meter. That's it. No walking! Running has always been a trial for me, always something my body just didn't want to do. Even Mick, my box owner, admits, "you're just built for strength. You're not built for speed." Which is why I can deadlift 185# after only 4 months at the box, and I still struggle with that damned 400. Most of the time (not consistently yet) I can run the 400 one time. Most of the time.
So the 400 meter has become a series of goals:
*Run the 400 without walking 10/21/14!
*Run the 400 in less than 4:30
*Run the 400 in less than 4 minutes
*Run the 400 as part of a WOD
*Run the 400 in less than 3:30
*Run the 400 in less than 3 minutes
*Run the 400 in less than 2:30
My deadlift is at 185# as a 1RM, and I set a goal for 6 months:
*Deadlift 200# by 2/23/15
There are also goals that pertain to overhead/push press (103# by 2/13/15) and pullups (1 strict pullup by 8/23/15).
One goal that I have put on my list is a Level 1 Crossfit cert after 8/23/15. I want to give myself a year in the box, then I want to pursue a cert. My dream is to specialize, kind of design my own focus, if you will, on working with the obese and the injured. But, just like running, I've got to start with the basics. Level 1 cert is first.
I love having goals. I love having little goals, so I can achieve things regularly. If they get me to my ultimate goal, who cares how little they are or how often I congratulate myself on making progress? The more the merrier, I say.
With that said, I do generally have an idea what I want to accomplish in the coming year. Of course, "the coming year" is from whenever I say it is, not from January 1. Right now I have a series of 10 goals for Crossfit. I've achieved 4 of them, and I'm definitely making headway toward the others.
One of my first goals was to run the 400 meter. That's it. No walking! Running has always been a trial for me, always something my body just didn't want to do. Even Mick, my box owner, admits, "you're just built for strength. You're not built for speed." Which is why I can deadlift 185# after only 4 months at the box, and I still struggle with that damned 400. Most of the time (not consistently yet) I can run the 400 one time. Most of the time.
So the 400 meter has become a series of goals:
*Run the 400 in less than 4:30
*Run the 400 in less than 4 minutes
*Run the 400 as part of a WOD
*Run the 400 in less than 3:30
*Run the 400 in less than 3 minutes
*Run the 400 in less than 2:30
My deadlift is at 185# as a 1RM, and I set a goal for 6 months:
*Deadlift 200# by 2/23/15
There are also goals that pertain to overhead/push press (103# by 2/13/15) and pullups (1 strict pullup by 8/23/15).
One goal that I have put on my list is a Level 1 Crossfit cert after 8/23/15. I want to give myself a year in the box, then I want to pursue a cert. My dream is to specialize, kind of design my own focus, if you will, on working with the obese and the injured. But, just like running, I've got to start with the basics. Level 1 cert is first.
I love having goals. I love having little goals, so I can achieve things regularly. If they get me to my ultimate goal, who cares how little they are or how often I congratulate myself on making progress? The more the merrier, I say.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Change is where it's at, baby
"Are you worried you won’t successfully finish the program, and it’s easier to self-sabotage than fail?"
Today is day 63--the last day of my 9th week. I wrote about struggling emotionally a week or so ago, but for the largest part it's been smooth sailing. I haven't really been having "cravings" per se. There's been no distinct point where my body/mind told me that if I had X food, then I would be better, IhavetohavethisfoodNOWdammit. What I have experienced is a consciousness that I was in a situation where, in the past, I would turn to food as a solution. And I've certainly had moments of thinking, "oh, these donuts smell good," or "the caffeine kick from a mocha would wake me up this morning," but there has been no desire to indulge myself. On the tail end of those thoughts has consistently been either an idle shrug because I really don't care, or a momentary pause and the thought, "but I want something else." And since I know very very well what that something else is, the 'craving' dissipates without ever gaining a foothold.
So what do I want?
I want to feel confident, sexy, and desirable. (Yeah, yeah, I know "it's all in your mind", "it's all in your attitude", whatever. This is my list.)
I want to not be scared, when I board a plane, that I will have to ask for a seatbelt extender.
I want to be able to buy a pair of motorcycle chaps off-the-rack. Not that I WANT motorcycle chaps, understand, but I want to be able to.
I want to run the 400 meter (quarter mile) in less than 3 minutes.
I want to feel good about all of my food choices, knowing that they are getting me closer to my goals.
I want to go to England next year and not feel like everyone is looking at me as "that fat American lady."
I want to keep feeling better, and keep feeling like I'm actually making progress in my life instead of watching my life pass me by.
For me, there is no "Finish" to the program. I'm not planning to be "done" with this. I completely changed for it, in every way I could. I can't self-sabotage because that would mean completely changing everything in another direction, and it would take too much work for these habits to fall apart. One habit builds on and protects the others, so the entire set has to fall before I "fail". There's security and there's confidence in doing it this way. It's a sarcastic answer, maybe, but if you change everything it's too much effort to change it back.
Today is day 63--the last day of my 9th week. I wrote about struggling emotionally a week or so ago, but for the largest part it's been smooth sailing. I haven't really been having "cravings" per se. There's been no distinct point where my body/mind told me that if I had X food, then I would be better, IhavetohavethisfoodNOWdammit. What I have experienced is a consciousness that I was in a situation where, in the past, I would turn to food as a solution. And I've certainly had moments of thinking, "oh, these donuts smell good," or "the caffeine kick from a mocha would wake me up this morning," but there has been no desire to indulge myself. On the tail end of those thoughts has consistently been either an idle shrug because I really don't care, or a momentary pause and the thought, "but I want something else." And since I know very very well what that something else is, the 'craving' dissipates without ever gaining a foothold.
So what do I want?
I want to feel confident, sexy, and desirable. (Yeah, yeah, I know "it's all in your mind", "it's all in your attitude", whatever. This is my list.)
I want to not be scared, when I board a plane, that I will have to ask for a seatbelt extender.
I want to be able to buy a pair of motorcycle chaps off-the-rack. Not that I WANT motorcycle chaps, understand, but I want to be able to.
I want to run the 400 meter (quarter mile) in less than 3 minutes.
I want to feel good about all of my food choices, knowing that they are getting me closer to my goals.
I want to go to England next year and not feel like everyone is looking at me as "that fat American lady."
I want to keep feeling better, and keep feeling like I'm actually making progress in my life instead of watching my life pass me by.
For me, there is no "Finish" to the program. I'm not planning to be "done" with this. I completely changed for it, in every way I could. I can't self-sabotage because that would mean completely changing everything in another direction, and it would take too much work for these habits to fall apart. One habit builds on and protects the others, so the entire set has to fall before I "fail". There's security and there's confidence in doing it this way. It's a sarcastic answer, maybe, but if you change everything it's too much effort to change it back.
Are
you worried you won’t successfully finish the program, and it’s easier
to self-sabotage than fail? - See more at:
http://whole30.com/2013/08/revised-timeline/#sthash.uTEeCUhH.dpuf
Are
you worried you won’t successfully finish the program, and it’s easier
to self-sabotage than fail? - See more at:
http://whole30.com/2013/08/revised-timeline/#sthash.uTEeCUhH.dpuf
Are
you worried you won’t successfully finish the program, and it’s easier
to self-sabotage than fail? - See more at:
http://whole30.com/2013/08/revised-timeline/#sthash.uTEeCUhH.dpuf
Are
you worried you won’t successfully finish the program, and it’s easier
to self-sabotage than fail? - See more at:
http://whole30.com/2013/08/revised-timeline/#sthash.uTEeCUhH.dp"
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Precision point
Rather than becoming bored with my routine and settled in my habits and thus letting things slip a little, I am becoming more and more focused.
Part of what they talk about in the Whole30 program (today is day 61!) is what happens in week 3-4. Sometime in that week people tend to just stop caring about food. Food is off the radar as a coping strategy, food does not call to them from the pantry, food is not their first consideration. It's not at the forefront of the mind. That happened to me, and as I've progressed in this program it's become even less and less of a concern. I did my grocery shopping this morning. I picked up some chicken thighs, picked up a couple of beautiful filets, grabbed a couple of things for my husband, and raided the produce section. Nothing called to me. Nothing tempted me. Nothing required my examination. I just wasn't interested. And it wasn't any effort--I wasn't using newly minted brain tricks or refocusing techniques. I just didn't care.
I came home and made some bacon and eggs, cut up an apple and made my tea.I was happy. I was content. I wasn't looking for anything else. It's an amazing freedom, to not be ruled by food. I imagine this is what those who are naturally thin feel like. Food is nice, don't get me wrong. Food is yummy. Food makes me feel awake and energized. Food helps me fuel my WODs and makes my lifts stronger. But that's all it does. It doesn't help me with communicating with my husband. It doesn't help me deal with frustrations at work. It doesn't stand in as a companion for friends who are far away.
I'm so grateful that I've finally realized that. I've finally gotten to a place where I am open to those lessons and I can truly grasp what they mean. It took me years, but I'm finally here.
Part of what they talk about in the Whole30 program (today is day 61!) is what happens in week 3-4. Sometime in that week people tend to just stop caring about food. Food is off the radar as a coping strategy, food does not call to them from the pantry, food is not their first consideration. It's not at the forefront of the mind. That happened to me, and as I've progressed in this program it's become even less and less of a concern. I did my grocery shopping this morning. I picked up some chicken thighs, picked up a couple of beautiful filets, grabbed a couple of things for my husband, and raided the produce section. Nothing called to me. Nothing tempted me. Nothing required my examination. I just wasn't interested. And it wasn't any effort--I wasn't using newly minted brain tricks or refocusing techniques. I just didn't care.
I came home and made some bacon and eggs, cut up an apple and made my tea.I was happy. I was content. I wasn't looking for anything else. It's an amazing freedom, to not be ruled by food. I imagine this is what those who are naturally thin feel like. Food is nice, don't get me wrong. Food is yummy. Food makes me feel awake and energized. Food helps me fuel my WODs and makes my lifts stronger. But that's all it does. It doesn't help me with communicating with my husband. It doesn't help me deal with frustrations at work. It doesn't stand in as a companion for friends who are far away.
I'm so grateful that I've finally realized that. I've finally gotten to a place where I am open to those lessons and I can truly grasp what they mean. It took me years, but I'm finally here.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
So what happens then?
I am intrigued by the question of, "what happens next?" that came to mind when I was reading Why We Get Fat. I have read extensively in the subject, and I can't remember ever seeing anything about nutrient partitioning as it relates to momentary food consumption.
There was an important part of the book that talked about how in the 1960s overeating and thus obesity became an issue of morality and personality, as opposed to the reality of living in a biological organism and having it respond to the world. Overeating was always a moral failing to me. It was always a question of personal responsibility, always an issue of my own flawed decisions. But if you take one step back, you realize that whatever body you inhabit still responds like a biological organism to stimuli. As much as you might want to, you can't control how quickly your heart beats. Try as you might, you can't will your food to digest faster. And just as similarly, you cannot control what your body does with food once you ingest it. The whole biological organism takes over, and your input is off the table.
So taking another step back, removing the question of morality and deadly sins from the picture, we are left with a question. We know calories are a measurement of heat, and a method of transferring energy from an edible substance to a body. Okay. We know that when we digest food, those calories are "absorbed" by the body. But once they are absorbed, where do they go? Yesterday I talked about nutrient partitioning and the ideal of "saver" and "spendthrift" bodies. We vaguely have the idea that some bodies store fat easier and some people eat as if they had a hollow leg, but what exactly is happening? What is causing some bodies to store half their calories? What mechanism makes other people able to eat a bowlful of ice cream every night and not see the effects? Thinner people have been shown, unarguably, to move more than heavier people. Fidgeting, walking, bigger body movements, more exercise, whatever. They move more because they have more energy in their cells and thus are able to move more, but WHY do they have more energy in their cells? What mechanism determines that their cells get the energy that has been transferred from food, instead of that energy being stored for future use?
This isn't easily answered by throwing out the word genetics. Genes are constantly being turned on and off in the body. And if it IS genetics, then what's going on? Is there a gene that determines that fat gets stored in cells last, as opposed to first? Can we switch that on? For people whose storage genes have been expressed, can we turn them off again?
What does it take to turn on the nutrient partitioning genes? How do we influence that? We know that ingestion of carbs influences the release of insulin, and the release of insulin helps store calories as fat. We're learning, through Crossfit and other more aggressive, more intense exercise styles, that with variable training demands comes different uses of the metabolic pathways. How do we couple those ideas together for people whose bodies want to store and rest? How do we quantify that so we know to what degree it's necessary to control those inputs?
That's what I want to know.
There was an important part of the book that talked about how in the 1960s overeating and thus obesity became an issue of morality and personality, as opposed to the reality of living in a biological organism and having it respond to the world. Overeating was always a moral failing to me. It was always a question of personal responsibility, always an issue of my own flawed decisions. But if you take one step back, you realize that whatever body you inhabit still responds like a biological organism to stimuli. As much as you might want to, you can't control how quickly your heart beats. Try as you might, you can't will your food to digest faster. And just as similarly, you cannot control what your body does with food once you ingest it. The whole biological organism takes over, and your input is off the table.
So taking another step back, removing the question of morality and deadly sins from the picture, we are left with a question. We know calories are a measurement of heat, and a method of transferring energy from an edible substance to a body. Okay. We know that when we digest food, those calories are "absorbed" by the body. But once they are absorbed, where do they go? Yesterday I talked about nutrient partitioning and the ideal of "saver" and "spendthrift" bodies. We vaguely have the idea that some bodies store fat easier and some people eat as if they had a hollow leg, but what exactly is happening? What is causing some bodies to store half their calories? What mechanism makes other people able to eat a bowlful of ice cream every night and not see the effects? Thinner people have been shown, unarguably, to move more than heavier people. Fidgeting, walking, bigger body movements, more exercise, whatever. They move more because they have more energy in their cells and thus are able to move more, but WHY do they have more energy in their cells? What mechanism determines that their cells get the energy that has been transferred from food, instead of that energy being stored for future use?
This isn't easily answered by throwing out the word genetics. Genes are constantly being turned on and off in the body. And if it IS genetics, then what's going on? Is there a gene that determines that fat gets stored in cells last, as opposed to first? Can we switch that on? For people whose storage genes have been expressed, can we turn them off again?
What does it take to turn on the nutrient partitioning genes? How do we influence that? We know that ingestion of carbs influences the release of insulin, and the release of insulin helps store calories as fat. We're learning, through Crossfit and other more aggressive, more intense exercise styles, that with variable training demands comes different uses of the metabolic pathways. How do we couple those ideas together for people whose bodies want to store and rest? How do we quantify that so we know to what degree it's necessary to control those inputs?
That's what I want to know.
Monday, December 8, 2014
Why do we get fat?
I'm reading Why We Get Fat by Gary Taubes. It's an easy read, science made accessible. It's informative and intelligent. It's well laid out...
And it is entirely validating of my own experience of my body.
The concept of weight loss and weight "management" is built around a principle of physics called the conservation of energy--simply, you can't make something from nothing, so the fat on your body had to come from somewhere. You had to eat it, since we don't absorb calories by osmosis. Either that or you're just not moving around enough to burn off what you eat. Both these things--eating too much or moving too little--are your own fault. They're a visible display of your own failure to manage your body. We accept this principle. We don't question personal responsibility when it comes to weight management.
The problem is, we never took the next step and asked what happens to the calories once they get into the body. We assumed--which is an oversight and makes us look stupid, honestly--that EVERY SINGLE BODY EVER uses calories in the exact same way, in the exact same proportions. If every body did, they it would clearly be a matter of personal fault and easy enough to correct. If you knew that 25% of your intake was going to be used for your brain, 25% would be used for muscles, 25% would be used for essential body functions, and the remaining 25% would be in circulation or fat storage until you ate again, it would be easy to tweak your intake so that you could dictate fat storage. The thing is, it doesn't work that way. That's the message we've all been sold over the last 40-ish years, but that oversimplifies the body and makes fools of us all.
So think about two women, Mary and Jane. Mary and Jane both earn $3,000 a month. Mary and Jane both own houses, and $1,000 a month goes toward their mortgages. This is their essential cost, the cost that must be paid. Mary, however, with her spendthrift ways, regularly spends money on nights out dancing, small weekend trips, books and videos, and new clothes and shoes. Other essential expenses like gas and car payments and insurance are paid, but Mary's primary expenditures are for entertainment. Sometimes there's a little bit left over at the end of the month, but never very much. She puts that away for a rainy day, but feels no qualms about dipping into that money when something new and exciting catches her eye.
Jane, on the other hand, worries about her money all the time. After she pays her mortgage and her essential expenses, she puts everything she can into a strict savings account across town that doesn't have easy access, so she has to go all the way across town to withdraw anything at all. Sometimes she needs new clothes or new shoes, and she plans carefully for these expenses. Her entertainment budget is zero: libraries are free, and they have movies, too. Jane's savings account is already substantial, and saving, for her, is reflexive now.
In the realm of the body, Mary is naturally thin. When she eats her body makes sure that her essential functions are supported, then spends the rest of her calories happily. Every single cell in Mary's body is open for business and eagerly changes those calories into energy. Mary doesn't really notice this because it's just the way she is, but she moves around more often, put more energy into her movements, and is warmer and more awake throughout the day. When she needs more energy for something she takes it right out of her fat stores--that's what it's there for, right?
Jane got the other end of the stick. Her body is heavier and slower. She has generous stores of fat, and yet this stored energy doesn't seem to translate to regular daily energy. She is slower with her movements, and tends to unconsciously shorten them or make them easier. Her hands and feet are always cold, and she always feels just a little bit sleepy. Jane's body likes to store calories for future use, even though she eats the same amount as Mary. Jane also drags herself on a morning walk with her dog every day, but her body is not thin. She burns the same amount of calories in a day at Mary, but her body is not thin like Mary's. Jane's body will make her "entertainment" budget as small as possible, and withdraw from her fat savings on a miserly basis.
This is called nutrient partitioning, and it's gotten little to no consideration in the realm of diet and exercise. Nutrient partitioning, easily, is how your body spends the calories you give it. Some peoples' bodies spend every calorie and save very little. Some peoples' bodies save before they pay any expenses. There has been little discussion of this. We're always told to "eat less and exercise more", as if we've never heard of math and can't understand the simple concepts of addition and subtraction. Being overweight is a failing of intellect, in addition to a failing of character.
And yet...I am not stupid and I am conscientious. But this is what I have consistently experienced in my own body. I have pages and pages of records over the years. I faithfully wrote down all my meals. I laboriously weighed and measured--to the gram--all my foods. I did the math over and over, trying desperately to figure out how many calories I needed and how many I could eat, how it was possible that I was eating X number of calories and exercising for Y minutes and walking at least 5 miles a day and being on my feet all day and still gaining weight. I played with my macronutrient ratios. I also listened to prevailing health and diet "experts", and failed to see the obvious: the higher my carbohydrate intake, the higher my weight and the wider the gap between what I knew I was consuming and the results I expected from the straight math.
Bodies are not simple machines, people. Calories aren't just calories. What your body does with those calories once you digest them is what matters. That's the principle of diet theory that everyone is missing. Everyone got hung up on the first step--you can't create something from nothing so you must be eating the calories you're storing--and missed the obvious second step: bodies are different, and they're not going to use the same number of calories in the same way.
The question becomes, then, what is happening once those calories are ingested? How do we affect how individual bodies use calories? How do we encourage "saver" bodies to spend freely?
And it is entirely validating of my own experience of my body.
The concept of weight loss and weight "management" is built around a principle of physics called the conservation of energy--simply, you can't make something from nothing, so the fat on your body had to come from somewhere. You had to eat it, since we don't absorb calories by osmosis. Either that or you're just not moving around enough to burn off what you eat. Both these things--eating too much or moving too little--are your own fault. They're a visible display of your own failure to manage your body. We accept this principle. We don't question personal responsibility when it comes to weight management.
The problem is, we never took the next step and asked what happens to the calories once they get into the body. We assumed--which is an oversight and makes us look stupid, honestly--that EVERY SINGLE BODY EVER uses calories in the exact same way, in the exact same proportions. If every body did, they it would clearly be a matter of personal fault and easy enough to correct. If you knew that 25% of your intake was going to be used for your brain, 25% would be used for muscles, 25% would be used for essential body functions, and the remaining 25% would be in circulation or fat storage until you ate again, it would be easy to tweak your intake so that you could dictate fat storage. The thing is, it doesn't work that way. That's the message we've all been sold over the last 40-ish years, but that oversimplifies the body and makes fools of us all.
So think about two women, Mary and Jane. Mary and Jane both earn $3,000 a month. Mary and Jane both own houses, and $1,000 a month goes toward their mortgages. This is their essential cost, the cost that must be paid. Mary, however, with her spendthrift ways, regularly spends money on nights out dancing, small weekend trips, books and videos, and new clothes and shoes. Other essential expenses like gas and car payments and insurance are paid, but Mary's primary expenditures are for entertainment. Sometimes there's a little bit left over at the end of the month, but never very much. She puts that away for a rainy day, but feels no qualms about dipping into that money when something new and exciting catches her eye.
Jane, on the other hand, worries about her money all the time. After she pays her mortgage and her essential expenses, she puts everything she can into a strict savings account across town that doesn't have easy access, so she has to go all the way across town to withdraw anything at all. Sometimes she needs new clothes or new shoes, and she plans carefully for these expenses. Her entertainment budget is zero: libraries are free, and they have movies, too. Jane's savings account is already substantial, and saving, for her, is reflexive now.
In the realm of the body, Mary is naturally thin. When she eats her body makes sure that her essential functions are supported, then spends the rest of her calories happily. Every single cell in Mary's body is open for business and eagerly changes those calories into energy. Mary doesn't really notice this because it's just the way she is, but she moves around more often, put more energy into her movements, and is warmer and more awake throughout the day. When she needs more energy for something she takes it right out of her fat stores--that's what it's there for, right?
Jane got the other end of the stick. Her body is heavier and slower. She has generous stores of fat, and yet this stored energy doesn't seem to translate to regular daily energy. She is slower with her movements, and tends to unconsciously shorten them or make them easier. Her hands and feet are always cold, and she always feels just a little bit sleepy. Jane's body likes to store calories for future use, even though she eats the same amount as Mary. Jane also drags herself on a morning walk with her dog every day, but her body is not thin. She burns the same amount of calories in a day at Mary, but her body is not thin like Mary's. Jane's body will make her "entertainment" budget as small as possible, and withdraw from her fat savings on a miserly basis.
This is called nutrient partitioning, and it's gotten little to no consideration in the realm of diet and exercise. Nutrient partitioning, easily, is how your body spends the calories you give it. Some peoples' bodies spend every calorie and save very little. Some peoples' bodies save before they pay any expenses. There has been little discussion of this. We're always told to "eat less and exercise more", as if we've never heard of math and can't understand the simple concepts of addition and subtraction. Being overweight is a failing of intellect, in addition to a failing of character.
And yet...I am not stupid and I am conscientious. But this is what I have consistently experienced in my own body. I have pages and pages of records over the years. I faithfully wrote down all my meals. I laboriously weighed and measured--to the gram--all my foods. I did the math over and over, trying desperately to figure out how many calories I needed and how many I could eat, how it was possible that I was eating X number of calories and exercising for Y minutes and walking at least 5 miles a day and being on my feet all day and still gaining weight. I played with my macronutrient ratios. I also listened to prevailing health and diet "experts", and failed to see the obvious: the higher my carbohydrate intake, the higher my weight and the wider the gap between what I knew I was consuming and the results I expected from the straight math.
Bodies are not simple machines, people. Calories aren't just calories. What your body does with those calories once you digest them is what matters. That's the principle of diet theory that everyone is missing. Everyone got hung up on the first step--you can't create something from nothing so you must be eating the calories you're storing--and missed the obvious second step: bodies are different, and they're not going to use the same number of calories in the same way.
The question becomes, then, what is happening once those calories are ingested? How do we affect how individual bodies use calories? How do we encourage "saver" bodies to spend freely?
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Onward, ho!
I have righted myself. It wasn't through any trick or any moment of clarity or any sudden realization. I just kept doing what I have been doing for the last 3.5 months, and held to my habits. The habits are the thing, I swear. I kept making my breakfast the night before so I'd have protein after morning WODs. I kept packing lunch the night before--sometimes using a chunk of free time to cook a couple of meals in advance--so I'd always have a good, safe lunch available. I automatically did my laundry and sorted it out into complete sets of gym clothes, so that when I woke up around 4:45 there was no desperate rushing to find necessary pieces. I just kept doing my new habits. I didn't let myself think about it too much. I didn't let myself think of alternatives. I just got on and did it.
And I Am on track. I am eating my veggies and my protein. I have repetitive meals, this is true, but honestly I just need protein and veggies. I don't need food to fulfill me. I don't need food to reward me. I don't need food to lend interest or satisfaction to my life. Food is necessary, yes, and there's no way I'm going to force myself to eat foods that I don't enjoy. But I'm not going to use food as anything else but fuel.
That's another phrase I never really understood. I knew what it meant on an intellectual level, even down to being able to explain about glucose and amino acids and essential fats and insulin and glycogen and leptin and mitochondria and all that gorgeous symphony that is the gastrointestinal tract. But intellect has never translated to a gut-level comprehension, to the ability to not ascribe other duties to what is, essentially, a way for the world to transfer energy to us.
Food is fuel, and that's all it is. I get it now.
And I Am on track. I am eating my veggies and my protein. I have repetitive meals, this is true, but honestly I just need protein and veggies. I don't need food to fulfill me. I don't need food to reward me. I don't need food to lend interest or satisfaction to my life. Food is necessary, yes, and there's no way I'm going to force myself to eat foods that I don't enjoy. But I'm not going to use food as anything else but fuel.
That's another phrase I never really understood. I knew what it meant on an intellectual level, even down to being able to explain about glucose and amino acids and essential fats and insulin and glycogen and leptin and mitochondria and all that gorgeous symphony that is the gastrointestinal tract. But intellect has never translated to a gut-level comprehension, to the ability to not ascribe other duties to what is, essentially, a way for the world to transfer energy to us.
Food is fuel, and that's all it is. I get it now.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Struggling
Ahh, brave last words spoken yesterday.
I am going through some difficult emotional things that came to a bit of a head in the last couple of days. I've been working very hard with Dr. Matt to dismantle and disarm them, and build in healthier responses. But when these emotional things happen my first instinct is still to stuff them down, strangle them with food. The muscles for coping and facing instead of just running away are still new.
Yesterday I ate potato chips for lunch. I found a brand that wasn't full of crap, basically potatoes and salt and oil. But the fact remains that I had potato chips for lunch. So it was still Whole30 with regard to the ingredients, but certainly not in spirit. So gray area. At dinner I desperately wanted to skip it. I really needed to skip the meal as an expression of control. I know that's one of my behaviors, though, that I'm trying very hard to break. So I made myself eat something. I managed only a banana and almond butter, but I did it. Then I went to bed.
This morning when I woke up I was hungry, obviously, but more than hungry I'm emotionally raw. I really, really want to "cut and run".
My dad was in the military. He was high ranking on submarines--already a rare bird--during the Cold War. We went where they needed him. By the time I was in the third grade I'd been in 5 different schools. Counting colleges, which was my own doing since I put myself through, I went to 12 different schools. This means 12 different groups of friends (although in all honesty I've never really had "groups" of friends. I've had one or two at a time). I've lived in 8 different states and one different country. Starting very very young I learned how to "rip it out": cut all attachments and walk away. I'm really bad at forming close attachments. I just don't know how. I am interested in people and I'm curious, and I make friends quickly and easily. But I keep people at arm's distance, and when I walk away I walk away cleanly. Ghosts don't follow me.
What that all means is that my primary form of dealing with emotional struggles and difficult relationships is to stuff it down as long as I can, and then when it gets unbearable to just to walk away. Deep in my brain there's a bitter belief: "Everything ends, it's just a matter of when." I'm trying to learn not to do that. I'm trying to learn other ways of coping.
So this morning when I woke up I was hungry. I was--am--also emotional and touchy. I immediately started thinking of where might be open. Mmmm, pancakes the size of the plate. Butter and syrup, oh my! Fried potatoes and eggs with milk and cinnamon rolls and cream and croissants and doughnuts and and...hysteria. It's Thanksgiving Day, though, so I can be thankful that no place is open.
But then I realized that I had to go to the store. I needed almond milk for my tea. I made a list, told my best friend what I was going to buy, and allowed myself to get only almond milk, bananas, parsnips, and carrots. Then I got out of there.
Back home I heated up some sausages while my water boiled, then I had tea, sausages, and two kiwi. The banana is next to me but I don't want it. I've eaten good food and I'm not hungry anymore. I've wobbled, certainly, but I righted myself and I'm back on course. This is good. This is something to be thankful for.
I am going through some difficult emotional things that came to a bit of a head in the last couple of days. I've been working very hard with Dr. Matt to dismantle and disarm them, and build in healthier responses. But when these emotional things happen my first instinct is still to stuff them down, strangle them with food. The muscles for coping and facing instead of just running away are still new.
Yesterday I ate potato chips for lunch. I found a brand that wasn't full of crap, basically potatoes and salt and oil. But the fact remains that I had potato chips for lunch. So it was still Whole30 with regard to the ingredients, but certainly not in spirit. So gray area. At dinner I desperately wanted to skip it. I really needed to skip the meal as an expression of control. I know that's one of my behaviors, though, that I'm trying very hard to break. So I made myself eat something. I managed only a banana and almond butter, but I did it. Then I went to bed.
This morning when I woke up I was hungry, obviously, but more than hungry I'm emotionally raw. I really, really want to "cut and run".
My dad was in the military. He was high ranking on submarines--already a rare bird--during the Cold War. We went where they needed him. By the time I was in the third grade I'd been in 5 different schools. Counting colleges, which was my own doing since I put myself through, I went to 12 different schools. This means 12 different groups of friends (although in all honesty I've never really had "groups" of friends. I've had one or two at a time). I've lived in 8 different states and one different country. Starting very very young I learned how to "rip it out": cut all attachments and walk away. I'm really bad at forming close attachments. I just don't know how. I am interested in people and I'm curious, and I make friends quickly and easily. But I keep people at arm's distance, and when I walk away I walk away cleanly. Ghosts don't follow me.
What that all means is that my primary form of dealing with emotional struggles and difficult relationships is to stuff it down as long as I can, and then when it gets unbearable to just to walk away. Deep in my brain there's a bitter belief: "Everything ends, it's just a matter of when." I'm trying to learn not to do that. I'm trying to learn other ways of coping.
So this morning when I woke up I was hungry. I was--am--also emotional and touchy. I immediately started thinking of where might be open. Mmmm, pancakes the size of the plate. Butter and syrup, oh my! Fried potatoes and eggs with milk and cinnamon rolls and cream and croissants and doughnuts and and...hysteria. It's Thanksgiving Day, though, so I can be thankful that no place is open.
But then I realized that I had to go to the store. I needed almond milk for my tea. I made a list, told my best friend what I was going to buy, and allowed myself to get only almond milk, bananas, parsnips, and carrots. Then I got out of there.
Back home I heated up some sausages while my water boiled, then I had tea, sausages, and two kiwi. The banana is next to me but I don't want it. I've eaten good food and I'm not hungry anymore. I've wobbled, certainly, but I righted myself and I'm back on course. This is good. This is something to be thankful for.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
How long?
I am not challenged by Thanksgiving. My husband is British so he doesn't care about the day and has no childhood traditions to pursue, and my family lives 1700 miles away. To me, it's just another thursday. It will be day 45 of my Whole30! Um...yeah, that works.
I don't know how long I'm hanging on to this, really. It's just the way I eat now and I'm really not planning for a day when this "stops". I see no reason to stop. I see no good reason to stop eating fresh, healthy foods that make me feel good. When I am offered something that isn't as fresh/healthy/Whole30 approved, I ask myself if it's "worth feeling bad for". I never realized I was feeling bad, not until I started feeling so much better. I didn't know it was possible to feel good like this. The only thing I changed was what I was eating, so I know it's because of the food. I see no reason to eat something that has the potential to make me feel bad--tired, loggy, heavy, lethargic. There's the possibility of one or two handmade chocolates at the New Year, but that's if we go to the redwoods for my rebirthday. Otherwise, this is...the way I eat. It's a fundamental shift in thinking. I finally understand everything I've always read about not going on a "diet" but rather "changing to way you eat". I thought I had. I thought I was. Now I realize I was so firmly entrenched in "dieting" that even I couldn't see it. Planning cheat days, allowing days where I "went off plan". Even just having a plan to go off of, honestly. Eating too many Points and trying to compensate, hoarding Points through the week so I could eat what I "really" wanted. Doing all the math, obsessively, throughout my day: "if I have chips with lunch then I've got too many carbs so if I drop out the rice at dinner and leave off some of the meat to drop fat but what about protein okay change my meat with dinner to something less fatty means I've got to have at least 6 ounces how are calories doing...?" It was all exhausting. And NEVER WORKED. Long term, anyway. Everything works for a little bit of time. It's finding the thing you can do long term that makes the difference. And I can eat real food long term.
I don't know how long I'm hanging on to this, really. It's just the way I eat now and I'm really not planning for a day when this "stops". I see no reason to stop. I see no good reason to stop eating fresh, healthy foods that make me feel good. When I am offered something that isn't as fresh/healthy/Whole30 approved, I ask myself if it's "worth feeling bad for". I never realized I was feeling bad, not until I started feeling so much better. I didn't know it was possible to feel good like this. The only thing I changed was what I was eating, so I know it's because of the food. I see no reason to eat something that has the potential to make me feel bad--tired, loggy, heavy, lethargic. There's the possibility of one or two handmade chocolates at the New Year, but that's if we go to the redwoods for my rebirthday. Otherwise, this is...the way I eat. It's a fundamental shift in thinking. I finally understand everything I've always read about not going on a "diet" but rather "changing to way you eat". I thought I had. I thought I was. Now I realize I was so firmly entrenched in "dieting" that even I couldn't see it. Planning cheat days, allowing days where I "went off plan". Even just having a plan to go off of, honestly. Eating too many Points and trying to compensate, hoarding Points through the week so I could eat what I "really" wanted. Doing all the math, obsessively, throughout my day: "if I have chips with lunch then I've got too many carbs so if I drop out the rice at dinner and leave off some of the meat to drop fat but what about protein okay change my meat with dinner to something less fatty means I've got to have at least 6 ounces how are calories doing...?" It was all exhausting. And NEVER WORKED. Long term, anyway. Everything works for a little bit of time. It's finding the thing you can do long term that makes the difference. And I can eat real food long term.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
One down...
I went to open gym this morning intending to work on my jerk. We did it three months ago, at my second WOD ever, but I'd missed the days it was on the schedule again in the next 12 weeks. I needed to establish my PR.
I worked from the rack. 45# bar, not a challenge. 65# (two 10# plates), a challenge but not insurmountable. 85# (two additional 10# plates)...yeah that's not happening. I topped out very quickly, which I tend to do on upper body. I looked at the bar and decided to try 5# plates. Took off the 10s, slid on 5s. I got one 75# jerk. Awesome! Tried for the second but didn't have it. So 75# was definitely my PR.
I wrote it on the board and went to sit on a box next to Ashlyn. We were idly chatting when Stef walked in and came straight to her.
"These are the t-shirts I'm thinking about," he showed her pictures. She had pictures of her own to compare. They debated and planned. Stef turned his head and looked at me.
"Hey, you want a t-shirt? I usually get a couple for Bill and Pat in XXL," he offered. His tone was just conversational, not accusatory at all. I nodded and agreed that he could add an additional shirt to "Bill and Pat's order" for me.
Then Stef looked at me, turned and walked into the office, and came back with a shirt in hand. He held it up in front of me and said, "here, go put this on." I tried to demure--it was a size smaller than I had asked for--but he insisted I go into the office and try it on. Nervously, certain everyone was watching me, I walked across the floor and shut myself in the office.
My t-shirt off, I pulled Stef's shirt on. I smoothed it down. Mmm, baby cotton, so nice! There were no mirrors in the room. Did it fit? It seemed to fit. It wasn't pulling anywhere...but it was touching my skin. Was that bad? Did this fit? I experimented with pulling my stomach in. Was that better?
I turned to open the door when it opened toward me. I shrieked, nervous and edgy, and Ryan just looked at me with raised eyebrows. I slipped by him and went over to Ashlyn and Stef.
"Um, does it fit?" I twitched nervously.
Ashlyn's face lit up in a smile. "It fits! You look good! I meant to tell you when I walked in that you were looking slimmer!" I grinned at her, giddy.
"Well then I guess I'll buy this one." I went to my car, got my $20, and gave it to Stef. We fist-bumped. Mick and I fist-bumped. There was fist-bumping everywhere!
I am a size smaller. Go me!
I worked from the rack. 45# bar, not a challenge. 65# (two 10# plates), a challenge but not insurmountable. 85# (two additional 10# plates)...yeah that's not happening. I topped out very quickly, which I tend to do on upper body. I looked at the bar and decided to try 5# plates. Took off the 10s, slid on 5s. I got one 75# jerk. Awesome! Tried for the second but didn't have it. So 75# was definitely my PR.
I wrote it on the board and went to sit on a box next to Ashlyn. We were idly chatting when Stef walked in and came straight to her.
"These are the t-shirts I'm thinking about," he showed her pictures. She had pictures of her own to compare. They debated and planned. Stef turned his head and looked at me.
"Hey, you want a t-shirt? I usually get a couple for Bill and Pat in XXL," he offered. His tone was just conversational, not accusatory at all. I nodded and agreed that he could add an additional shirt to "Bill and Pat's order" for me.
Then Stef looked at me, turned and walked into the office, and came back with a shirt in hand. He held it up in front of me and said, "here, go put this on." I tried to demure--it was a size smaller than I had asked for--but he insisted I go into the office and try it on. Nervously, certain everyone was watching me, I walked across the floor and shut myself in the office.
My t-shirt off, I pulled Stef's shirt on. I smoothed it down. Mmm, baby cotton, so nice! There were no mirrors in the room. Did it fit? It seemed to fit. It wasn't pulling anywhere...but it was touching my skin. Was that bad? Did this fit? I experimented with pulling my stomach in. Was that better?
I turned to open the door when it opened toward me. I shrieked, nervous and edgy, and Ryan just looked at me with raised eyebrows. I slipped by him and went over to Ashlyn and Stef.
"Um, does it fit?" I twitched nervously.
Ashlyn's face lit up in a smile. "It fits! You look good! I meant to tell you when I walked in that you were looking slimmer!" I grinned at her, giddy.
"Well then I guess I'll buy this one." I went to my car, got my $20, and gave it to Stef. We fist-bumped. Mick and I fist-bumped. There was fist-bumping everywhere!
I am a size smaller. Go me!
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Day 30!
Today is Day 30 of my first Whole30. Drumroll please! I have lost....
I don't know how many pounds. I'm not interested in getting on the scale.
I know I've lost 3.5" underbust, 2" waist, and 2" hips. I only knew those measurements because I was looking for a dress pattern size sometime in the first week, they're not "official start measurements". But whatever, close enough.
I have GAINED:
*Absolutely glowing skin. When multiple people who do not know each other mention it to you, you know it's true.
*SLEEEEEEP. I'm sleeping like a baby. I have fought sleep issues for EIGHTEEN YEARS, since the accident. I would get up 5 or 6 times a night to go to the bathroom and I constantly tossed and turned. I wear an eye mask and earplugs and I STILL would wake up that much. Now I sleep in solid 4-hour blocks, and I wake up once in the middle of the night. It's life changing. I feel so much better with sleeping! The only challenge is that now I want to sleep all the time. ;)
*I am happier, more energetic, and more enthusiastic. I've never been a pessimist, despite my love of sarcasm. I'm a generally cheerful person. But very shortly I expect my boxmates to start slapping me at 5:30am when I'm trilling and happy and energetic and they're bleery-eyed and barely awake.
*Money! My bank account is so much better off! My husband and I only went out once this month, and I looked at my bank account in shock. Seriously, did I forget a bill? What? Um...oh dear. Well if THAT isn't a wake-up for the budget then I don't know what is.
*Confidence and security in my choices. There's so much information out there regarding diets and "health". So many new gimmicks, so many seemingly well-reasoned arguments for why X approach is better than Y, why Y fails in comparison to Z. I'm listening to none of it. I'm questioning myself NOT AT ALL. My body feels amazing. I'm getting signals that tell me that this is RIGHT, this feels good, my body is happy. I am secure in my choices. I am not panicking in the back of my mind, "what if this doesn't work? What do I not know yet? Do I need to study this more? What does this book/diet over here have to offer?" I am confident that this is right for my body, and emotional stress has melted away.
But the most significant change, the change that I am chasing, is in healing my brain. Oh, please. Oh please pleasepleaseplease. I've never wanted anything more. I would give anything, ANYTHING, to have that. When I woke up from the coma, after the accident, I had no idea how badly I was hurt. For two months I had no idea as I gradually healed. But then one day...
It was April. I remember in great detail, because there was so much emotional trauma. So much pain. I was in my room with my journal, and I was idly flipping pages, trying to stir up memories here and there, musing over how much I didn't remember. I picked up a book. Still couldn't read. I knew what the words meant, but couldn't comprehend how they threaded together into a coherent thought. I couldn't remember the first sentence of the paragraph by the time I got to the last sentence. Me, an English major! Who had never wanted anything more than to write, be a writer, be published, tell my stories to the world. In a split second I realized what I had lost. I realized how badly I was hurt. I realized that I had changed on such a fundamental level, that my dreams were dead to me. I still remember, word for word, what I picked up my journal and wrote:
"Anything but my brain. Anything. I would have given my arm. Anything but my brain."
Right there, in that moment, I made the decision to turn from my writing dreams and everything I thought I'd become. I made the decision to pick myself up and carry on, fight on, on a completely different path. Realizing how badly my brain was injured was by far the most traumatizing thing that has ever happened to me, and in some ways I am still reeling from that blow.
But there is a suggestion here, in this way of eating. Coupled with Crossfit and the neural changes detailed in Learning to Breathe Fire, this way of eating has the potential to help heal some of the damage and stimulate parts that are, while not dormant, sluggish. If I can heal my brain and focus on executive function, planning tasks and completing them, I'm all in.
This does not end tonight. I'm healing my brain, and I want that more than anything. I'm all in.
I don't know how many pounds. I'm not interested in getting on the scale.
I know I've lost 3.5" underbust, 2" waist, and 2" hips. I only knew those measurements because I was looking for a dress pattern size sometime in the first week, they're not "official start measurements". But whatever, close enough.
I have GAINED:
*Absolutely glowing skin. When multiple people who do not know each other mention it to you, you know it's true.
*SLEEEEEEP. I'm sleeping like a baby. I have fought sleep issues for EIGHTEEN YEARS, since the accident. I would get up 5 or 6 times a night to go to the bathroom and I constantly tossed and turned. I wear an eye mask and earplugs and I STILL would wake up that much. Now I sleep in solid 4-hour blocks, and I wake up once in the middle of the night. It's life changing. I feel so much better with sleeping! The only challenge is that now I want to sleep all the time. ;)
*I am happier, more energetic, and more enthusiastic. I've never been a pessimist, despite my love of sarcasm. I'm a generally cheerful person. But very shortly I expect my boxmates to start slapping me at 5:30am when I'm trilling and happy and energetic and they're bleery-eyed and barely awake.
*Money! My bank account is so much better off! My husband and I only went out once this month, and I looked at my bank account in shock. Seriously, did I forget a bill? What? Um...oh dear. Well if THAT isn't a wake-up for the budget then I don't know what is.
*Confidence and security in my choices. There's so much information out there regarding diets and "health". So many new gimmicks, so many seemingly well-reasoned arguments for why X approach is better than Y, why Y fails in comparison to Z. I'm listening to none of it. I'm questioning myself NOT AT ALL. My body feels amazing. I'm getting signals that tell me that this is RIGHT, this feels good, my body is happy. I am secure in my choices. I am not panicking in the back of my mind, "what if this doesn't work? What do I not know yet? Do I need to study this more? What does this book/diet over here have to offer?" I am confident that this is right for my body, and emotional stress has melted away.
But the most significant change, the change that I am chasing, is in healing my brain. Oh, please. Oh please pleasepleaseplease. I've never wanted anything more. I would give anything, ANYTHING, to have that. When I woke up from the coma, after the accident, I had no idea how badly I was hurt. For two months I had no idea as I gradually healed. But then one day...
It was April. I remember in great detail, because there was so much emotional trauma. So much pain. I was in my room with my journal, and I was idly flipping pages, trying to stir up memories here and there, musing over how much I didn't remember. I picked up a book. Still couldn't read. I knew what the words meant, but couldn't comprehend how they threaded together into a coherent thought. I couldn't remember the first sentence of the paragraph by the time I got to the last sentence. Me, an English major! Who had never wanted anything more than to write, be a writer, be published, tell my stories to the world. In a split second I realized what I had lost. I realized how badly I was hurt. I realized that I had changed on such a fundamental level, that my dreams were dead to me. I still remember, word for word, what I picked up my journal and wrote:
"Anything but my brain. Anything. I would have given my arm. Anything but my brain."
Right there, in that moment, I made the decision to turn from my writing dreams and everything I thought I'd become. I made the decision to pick myself up and carry on, fight on, on a completely different path. Realizing how badly my brain was injured was by far the most traumatizing thing that has ever happened to me, and in some ways I am still reeling from that blow.
But there is a suggestion here, in this way of eating. Coupled with Crossfit and the neural changes detailed in Learning to Breathe Fire, this way of eating has the potential to help heal some of the damage and stimulate parts that are, while not dormant, sluggish. If I can heal my brain and focus on executive function, planning tasks and completing them, I'm all in.
This does not end tonight. I'm healing my brain, and I want that more than anything. I'm all in.
Monday, November 10, 2014
11 weeks
I am in my eleventh week of my Crossfit journey. This has truly become a new lifestyle for me.
I used to hate it when people said "it really is a lifestyle change". For me, I thought I was living a healthy, active life and there was something wrong with my body. I thought I had been cursed with a body that was not going to change, no matter what I did. I would go to the gym and spend time there--I really would work out in ways that were challenging or unusual to the people around me--but never at this level of intensity. I would make time in my schedule to go regularly, too, but would often have periods where I just wouldn't make it for a week, or I'd do 25 minutes and call it done. As for healthy eating, I've always had a sweet tooth. Anything I could do to justify those choices would come out in spades when I just "didn't feel like" making a different decision. And I certainly wouldn't set aside time to cook the day before. It certainly didn't occur to me to plan ahead. I definitely wasn't planning rest and laundry around my lifestyle, either!
But now I've understood what a lifestyle change truly is, and I'm committed. Last night I prepared my breakfast for post-WOD nutrition this morning. I took out all my gym/shoulder/travel bags and packed full sets of gym clothes for four days. I set my alarm for 4:45am--without hesitating--and went to bed early.
All this was done after my husband invited me to go to dinner with him. I did go. We haven't gone out for the length of the Whole30 (I'm on day 28!) and I was happy to go out with him. We went to a Mexican restaurant that we have frequented in the past. I am familiar with the menu and made a decision about my order before we walked in.
When we sat down they put chips&salsa at our table, and I immediately asked, "can we get some hot carrots, please?" and requested a glass of water with lemon. When the carrots came I munched happily, and didn't really notice the chips at all. Then the waiter came around to take our full order.
"Beef fajitas, please," I said with conviction.
"Okay, black or refried beans?"
I said, "I don't want any of it, actually. I just want the meat and the veggies." The waiter looked at my husband, who shrugged, and back at me. He nodded and wrote it down.
Then my husband ordered, and it occurred to me that he could have my rice&beans and tortillas. So that was served, and since it "wasn't mine" I wasn't even tempted. The meat and veggies were so good! I was sorely tempted to go back for lunch today, but decided to have my salad with chicken as I planned last night.
I have one of my gym bags in my cubby at work, and I'm planning to go to the box tonight for some supplemental cardio. I did the WOD this morning, but I want more cardio. I am changing, and I want more change. I want it all.
I used to hate it when people said "it really is a lifestyle change". For me, I thought I was living a healthy, active life and there was something wrong with my body. I thought I had been cursed with a body that was not going to change, no matter what I did. I would go to the gym and spend time there--I really would work out in ways that were challenging or unusual to the people around me--but never at this level of intensity. I would make time in my schedule to go regularly, too, but would often have periods where I just wouldn't make it for a week, or I'd do 25 minutes and call it done. As for healthy eating, I've always had a sweet tooth. Anything I could do to justify those choices would come out in spades when I just "didn't feel like" making a different decision. And I certainly wouldn't set aside time to cook the day before. It certainly didn't occur to me to plan ahead. I definitely wasn't planning rest and laundry around my lifestyle, either!
But now I've understood what a lifestyle change truly is, and I'm committed. Last night I prepared my breakfast for post-WOD nutrition this morning. I took out all my gym/shoulder/travel bags and packed full sets of gym clothes for four days. I set my alarm for 4:45am--without hesitating--and went to bed early.
All this was done after my husband invited me to go to dinner with him. I did go. We haven't gone out for the length of the Whole30 (I'm on day 28!) and I was happy to go out with him. We went to a Mexican restaurant that we have frequented in the past. I am familiar with the menu and made a decision about my order before we walked in.
When we sat down they put chips&salsa at our table, and I immediately asked, "can we get some hot carrots, please?" and requested a glass of water with lemon. When the carrots came I munched happily, and didn't really notice the chips at all. Then the waiter came around to take our full order.
"Beef fajitas, please," I said with conviction.
"Okay, black or refried beans?"
I said, "I don't want any of it, actually. I just want the meat and the veggies." The waiter looked at my husband, who shrugged, and back at me. He nodded and wrote it down.
Then my husband ordered, and it occurred to me that he could have my rice&beans and tortillas. So that was served, and since it "wasn't mine" I wasn't even tempted. The meat and veggies were so good! I was sorely tempted to go back for lunch today, but decided to have my salad with chicken as I planned last night.
I have one of my gym bags in my cubby at work, and I'm planning to go to the box tonight for some supplemental cardio. I did the WOD this morning, but I want more cardio. I am changing, and I want more change. I want it all.
Friday, November 7, 2014
25 day magic
It is day 25 of my Whole30, and things are going great. I think I've hit the point where food just does not matter. Either that or I'm really lazy.
Yesterday morning I did the WOD at 5:30, then worked all day. Breakfast was gyro meat and a pear, lunch was a salad with chicken, and I didn't have anything immediately after work. Instead I decided to go to the box for some cardio. Finished that, grabbed a quesadilla at Chipotle for hubby, got home around 8 (approximately 15 hours after my day started with the WOD). I didn't have anything cooked and didn't have the energy to prepare anything. I ate an apple with almond butter and went to bed.
This morning I woke up around 6 and still had no desire to cook anything. I flipped through my cupboards and found nothing. My husband still has his food in the house, but nothing registered on my radar as "Food For Me". I had a banana and almond butter. I'm not hungry. I'm not full. I'm just...I'm not anything. It is not a concern to me. I don't CARE about eating anymore. I'll do it when I have to, and if there's nothing around that I consider food then I'm disinterested. Can the emotional tie to food be broken? Is that even possible, after 25 years of fighting it? 25 years of struggling done in 25 days...how is that possible?
Several people have commented now that my face looks slimmer. I keep feeling my jaw to try to verify changes. It's a slow, meditative process. Changing from the inside takes a lot of heart.
Yesterday morning I did the WOD at 5:30, then worked all day. Breakfast was gyro meat and a pear, lunch was a salad with chicken, and I didn't have anything immediately after work. Instead I decided to go to the box for some cardio. Finished that, grabbed a quesadilla at Chipotle for hubby, got home around 8 (approximately 15 hours after my day started with the WOD). I didn't have anything cooked and didn't have the energy to prepare anything. I ate an apple with almond butter and went to bed.
This morning I woke up around 6 and still had no desire to cook anything. I flipped through my cupboards and found nothing. My husband still has his food in the house, but nothing registered on my radar as "Food For Me". I had a banana and almond butter. I'm not hungry. I'm not full. I'm just...I'm not anything. It is not a concern to me. I don't CARE about eating anymore. I'll do it when I have to, and if there's nothing around that I consider food then I'm disinterested. Can the emotional tie to food be broken? Is that even possible, after 25 years of fighting it? 25 years of struggling done in 25 days...how is that possible?
Several people have commented now that my face looks slimmer. I keep feeling my jaw to try to verify changes. It's a slow, meditative process. Changing from the inside takes a lot of heart.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Changing or not?
It's an interesting process, pursuing a "different" body. The body changes gradually--nothing happens overnight. Even when you're losing weight the "conventional" way, which trust me I have done before, changes are slow. You lose weight like a candle, gradual layer from the top inward, and it takes time to see those layers add up.
But this way, losing from the inside out, is an exercise in mindgames. I am getting stronger. I know this, I have PRs to prove it. My endurance is getting better. I ran my first 400 meters on October 21! I jumped onto a 14" box on the 26th! I did 30 single unders in a row! I am improving, and I know I am. I have evidence. As of yet, though, there are tricky little physical changes.
My bra is looser, it's easier to fasten. And yet I'm developing a soft little fold on each side, on my ribs, right underneath the band. So I've got a soft little fat-fold...but I'm smaller?
My belly feels softer, looser when I stand up and walk, but when I lie down it seems like it's...wider. Fuller. Rather than being a distinct bulge it's like the bulge is engulfing my hips.
I cannot wait to lose the flab over my waist, those flaps that bulge out in back and make shirts not fit nicely. Mine are getting softer...but they're getting deeper??
I have to say, though, I approve of what my thighs are doing. They're narrower and firmer, so I'm not confused there.
Anyway, going through the process this way is changing the body underneath, while the fat layer is still there. Someday it's going to be one hell of a Reveal, but in the meantime I'm just going to be confused. Am I changing or not??
I am taking a rest day as I've been to the box for three days and I'm really sore from yesterday's WOD. Four 5-minute AMRAPS with one minute rests in between was all kinds of fun, don't get me wrong, and I'd love to do it again. But ooohhhhh the soreness. Yikes. I'm planning to go tomorrow and saturday.
I'm holding true to my habits--breakfast is already made for after the box tomorrow, actually--and I'm faithful to my Whole30. Yesterday was Day 15, so I'm halfway through. I feel fantastic, I've never felt this way about food before. And I can't remember when I felt this good physically, either. I'm toying with the idea of just keeping the Whole30 lifestyle going until January 10th and making it a Whole90. It's certainly not going to hurt me in any way, and who knows what amazing things lie in wait?
I love being in a position of eagerly anticipating the next few months, rather than having a quiet internal monologue going about how time is passing, I have to change something, I have to fix this, I'm running out of time, every day is a lost opportunity, and every day I don't make some drastic change is a mistake. It's a freedom I never knew about, a freedom I didn't know I was lacking. Being able to go through my days confidently knowing that I got this, I am awesome! is a tremendous thing.
But this way, losing from the inside out, is an exercise in mindgames. I am getting stronger. I know this, I have PRs to prove it. My endurance is getting better. I ran my first 400 meters on October 21! I jumped onto a 14" box on the 26th! I did 30 single unders in a row! I am improving, and I know I am. I have evidence. As of yet, though, there are tricky little physical changes.
My bra is looser, it's easier to fasten. And yet I'm developing a soft little fold on each side, on my ribs, right underneath the band. So I've got a soft little fat-fold...but I'm smaller?
My belly feels softer, looser when I stand up and walk, but when I lie down it seems like it's...wider. Fuller. Rather than being a distinct bulge it's like the bulge is engulfing my hips.
I cannot wait to lose the flab over my waist, those flaps that bulge out in back and make shirts not fit nicely. Mine are getting softer...but they're getting deeper??
I have to say, though, I approve of what my thighs are doing. They're narrower and firmer, so I'm not confused there.
Anyway, going through the process this way is changing the body underneath, while the fat layer is still there. Someday it's going to be one hell of a Reveal, but in the meantime I'm just going to be confused. Am I changing or not??
I am taking a rest day as I've been to the box for three days and I'm really sore from yesterday's WOD. Four 5-minute AMRAPS with one minute rests in between was all kinds of fun, don't get me wrong, and I'd love to do it again. But ooohhhhh the soreness. Yikes. I'm planning to go tomorrow and saturday.
I'm holding true to my habits--breakfast is already made for after the box tomorrow, actually--and I'm faithful to my Whole30. Yesterday was Day 15, so I'm halfway through. I feel fantastic, I've never felt this way about food before. And I can't remember when I felt this good physically, either. I'm toying with the idea of just keeping the Whole30 lifestyle going until January 10th and making it a Whole90. It's certainly not going to hurt me in any way, and who knows what amazing things lie in wait?
I love being in a position of eagerly anticipating the next few months, rather than having a quiet internal monologue going about how time is passing, I have to change something, I have to fix this, I'm running out of time, every day is a lost opportunity, and every day I don't make some drastic change is a mistake. It's a freedom I never knew about, a freedom I didn't know I was lacking. Being able to go through my days confidently knowing that I got this, I am awesome! is a tremendous thing.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Facing a potluck
I came home last night, wrecked, and made my breakfast so I'd have it ready after my WOD this morning. Then I didn't eat dinner because I didn't have anything prepared (huh?) and instead went straight to bed. I admit, my thinking was a little bit off there.
I woke up at 4:40, turned off my alarm before it could go off, threw on my gym clothes and was out the door before 5am. Got to the box and started coughing and sneezing. Seriously, heavily. The kind where you get dizzy because you're coughing so hard. I walked into the box at the same time I realized that I had the cold that our patients have been coming in with.
DON'T COME TO THERAPY SICK, PEOPLE!! WE'RE NOT A HOSPITAL!!
So I'm home now. I've called in sick. I'm drinking hot tea and plan to go back to bed very soon. I want to write a bit first, though.
CF on the surface is about weird random fitness activities and bro-tastic grunting and throwing of weights. But it's not only about that. CF is an amazing journey into self-knowledge and self-belief. It's an interesting mesh of proving things to others that I have always known about myself (I will never, ever give up--I get knocked down, but I get up again), and discovering things about myself (some things I have always believed were out of my reach are actually closer than I think).
The act of working CF into your life is in itself an undertaking. It takes time, both for the actual workout and for recovery. It takes physical energy: it demands more than you think, and more than your body is used to putting out at any one time. It takes mental energy: just walking into the box for something you KNOW is going to challenge and frustrate you takes extreme focus and determination. It takes resilience: you have to be willing to fail, and embrace that failure, and get back up and try again. It takes focus: getting under a heavy bar when you're not 100% present in your body because your mind is still struggling with an issue at work is a bad idea and a recipe for injury. And it steals your focus: if you get hit with the lightning bolt, CF is all you think about. Your entire psyche starts to revolve around facing your next challenge with the iron.
It's been two months, and I'm firmly ensconced. I'm planning my schedule around my WODs, I'm planning when I sleep. I'm planning laundry around my WODs. I'm planning rest. I'm making time for stretching and rolling to assist with recovery. I'm spending time writing goals and focusing on positive self-talk to help me with WOD performance. And I'm spending ample time on my diet.
I use "diet" in the classic sense, as in, "the foods I eat". This is day three of the Whole30. I was ready for the Whole30 after two months in the box. I was seeing how the way my body performed changed depending on what I had eaten the night before. I was seeing how my recovery was easier, or harder, depending on the quality of the foods I was consuming. I spent ample time focused on how my body felt and was responding during the heavy workouts, and was hearing those same signals after my meals. So I was in a place where I was ready to clean it up, as it were, and focus in really hard.
My first day of W30 was a good breakfast, as usual, so no different than...oh, months. I'm generally always good with breakfast. I had lunch prepared but ended up napping for three hours and missed the meal. Dinner was a solid protein-and-veggie meal, and I slept well. Yesterday was a rest day from the box and I needed it, after 4 WODs and two cardio WODs in 5 days. Breakfast was good, as usual, and then I faced a Fall potluck at work.
Keep in mind, this was my second day of W30. I had an unexpected hour free (patients cancelled) so I had THREE HOURS to stare at the food that everyone brought. We had:
North Carolina pulled pork
roasted chicken (bought at CostCo)
green bean casserole
8 packages (we're talking SIXTEEN POUNDS) of pre-buttered deli mashed potatoes
stuffing
carrot-bacon-onion dressing
couscous salad
macaroni salad
mac&cheese
pre-mixed kale salad with a creamy dressing
homemade cinnamon applesauce
Hawaiian sweet rolls
bean dip/guac/salsa and chips
two pumpkin cheesecakes
two pumpkin pies
one Mississippi mud pie
one coconut cream pie
chocolate chip cookie-balls
Everyone was moaning about how much they ate, and how hard they were going to crash in the afternoon. Someone ran out and brought back several gallon jugs of Arizona pre-sweetened tea, "for the caffeine".
I knew what I was walking into, and I brought a stuffed pepper with me. I also prepared applesauce as my contribution to the feast--apples and cinnamon and that's all. It was incredibly tempting. I kept trying to figure out what I could have. Potatoes? No, butter--no dairy. Green bean casserole? Green beans = yes, casserole = no. Chicken? Where's the package? What's ON it? How did they roast it? Better just stay away. Kale salad is good, right? Packaged dressing = processed oils. Damn. Pumpkin pie = you're fooling yourself. When Torrey walked in with her carrot-bacon-onion dish I could have hugged her. YAY! After grilling her for the recipe I settled in with my pepper, her concoction, and some applesauce.
It was a good meal. It was a happy meal. It was wonderful to eat and share and be happy with my workmates. And because I planned ahead it was entirely W30. I was proud of myself. One thing I'm learning in CF is that I can set a goal pertaining to "body stuff", consciously focus on it, and achieve it. I always knew I could achieve goals based around academic or intellectual parameters. I'm learning that I can achieve goals for my body, as well. My shaky feet feel more solid. I am feeling more and more like I can control my body and my physical reality. I'm excited for next year. I'm excited for change. I'm eager for the work it will take to change.
So let's write some goals for the Whole30!
I woke up at 4:40, turned off my alarm before it could go off, threw on my gym clothes and was out the door before 5am. Got to the box and started coughing and sneezing. Seriously, heavily. The kind where you get dizzy because you're coughing so hard. I walked into the box at the same time I realized that I had the cold that our patients have been coming in with.
DON'T COME TO THERAPY SICK, PEOPLE!! WE'RE NOT A HOSPITAL!!
So I'm home now. I've called in sick. I'm drinking hot tea and plan to go back to bed very soon. I want to write a bit first, though.
CF on the surface is about weird random fitness activities and bro-tastic grunting and throwing of weights. But it's not only about that. CF is an amazing journey into self-knowledge and self-belief. It's an interesting mesh of proving things to others that I have always known about myself (I will never, ever give up--I get knocked down, but I get up again), and discovering things about myself (some things I have always believed were out of my reach are actually closer than I think).
The act of working CF into your life is in itself an undertaking. It takes time, both for the actual workout and for recovery. It takes physical energy: it demands more than you think, and more than your body is used to putting out at any one time. It takes mental energy: just walking into the box for something you KNOW is going to challenge and frustrate you takes extreme focus and determination. It takes resilience: you have to be willing to fail, and embrace that failure, and get back up and try again. It takes focus: getting under a heavy bar when you're not 100% present in your body because your mind is still struggling with an issue at work is a bad idea and a recipe for injury. And it steals your focus: if you get hit with the lightning bolt, CF is all you think about. Your entire psyche starts to revolve around facing your next challenge with the iron.
It's been two months, and I'm firmly ensconced. I'm planning my schedule around my WODs, I'm planning when I sleep. I'm planning laundry around my WODs. I'm planning rest. I'm making time for stretching and rolling to assist with recovery. I'm spending time writing goals and focusing on positive self-talk to help me with WOD performance. And I'm spending ample time on my diet.
I use "diet" in the classic sense, as in, "the foods I eat". This is day three of the Whole30. I was ready for the Whole30 after two months in the box. I was seeing how the way my body performed changed depending on what I had eaten the night before. I was seeing how my recovery was easier, or harder, depending on the quality of the foods I was consuming. I spent ample time focused on how my body felt and was responding during the heavy workouts, and was hearing those same signals after my meals. So I was in a place where I was ready to clean it up, as it were, and focus in really hard.
My first day of W30 was a good breakfast, as usual, so no different than...oh, months. I'm generally always good with breakfast. I had lunch prepared but ended up napping for three hours and missed the meal. Dinner was a solid protein-and-veggie meal, and I slept well. Yesterday was a rest day from the box and I needed it, after 4 WODs and two cardio WODs in 5 days. Breakfast was good, as usual, and then I faced a Fall potluck at work.
Keep in mind, this was my second day of W30. I had an unexpected hour free (patients cancelled) so I had THREE HOURS to stare at the food that everyone brought. We had:
North Carolina pulled pork
roasted chicken (bought at CostCo)
green bean casserole
8 packages (we're talking SIXTEEN POUNDS) of pre-buttered deli mashed potatoes
stuffing
carrot-bacon-onion dressing
couscous salad
macaroni salad
mac&cheese
pre-mixed kale salad with a creamy dressing
homemade cinnamon applesauce
Hawaiian sweet rolls
bean dip/guac/salsa and chips
two pumpkin cheesecakes
two pumpkin pies
one Mississippi mud pie
one coconut cream pie
chocolate chip cookie-balls
Everyone was moaning about how much they ate, and how hard they were going to crash in the afternoon. Someone ran out and brought back several gallon jugs of Arizona pre-sweetened tea, "for the caffeine".
I knew what I was walking into, and I brought a stuffed pepper with me. I also prepared applesauce as my contribution to the feast--apples and cinnamon and that's all. It was incredibly tempting. I kept trying to figure out what I could have. Potatoes? No, butter--no dairy. Green bean casserole? Green beans = yes, casserole = no. Chicken? Where's the package? What's ON it? How did they roast it? Better just stay away. Kale salad is good, right? Packaged dressing = processed oils. Damn. Pumpkin pie = you're fooling yourself. When Torrey walked in with her carrot-bacon-onion dish I could have hugged her. YAY! After grilling her for the recipe I settled in with my pepper, her concoction, and some applesauce.
It was a good meal. It was a happy meal. It was wonderful to eat and share and be happy with my workmates. And because I planned ahead it was entirely W30. I was proud of myself. One thing I'm learning in CF is that I can set a goal pertaining to "body stuff", consciously focus on it, and achieve it. I always knew I could achieve goals based around academic or intellectual parameters. I'm learning that I can achieve goals for my body, as well. My shaky feet feel more solid. I am feeling more and more like I can control my body and my physical reality. I'm excited for next year. I'm excited for change. I'm eager for the work it will take to change.
So let's write some goals for the Whole30!
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Whole30 starts today
Today is the first day of the Whole30! I made breakfast last night, so when I got in from the box I just heated it up when water was boiling for my tea. I have long been a fan of Melissa Joulwan and her Well Fed cookbook, and I am a huge fan of comfort noodles. Zucchini as pasta, what's not to love? Add a banana (this morning's WOD was "Annie", kill me now) and I was good to go.
I've got to work today, as we need a sub, but thankfully it's only 4 hours. Laundry and cooking this afternoon after a lunch of a homemade stuffed pepper (ground beef, onions, peppers, tomato sauce) and an heirloom tomato. Nuts for snacking. And then cardio WOD tonight with my nice clean clothes.
I don't want a smaller version of this body. I want a completely different body. And I feel like I'm changing, so I'm pursuing it wholeheartedly.
I've got to work today, as we need a sub, but thankfully it's only 4 hours. Laundry and cooking this afternoon after a lunch of a homemade stuffed pepper (ground beef, onions, peppers, tomato sauce) and an heirloom tomato. Nuts for snacking. And then cardio WOD tonight with my nice clean clothes.
I don't want a smaller version of this body. I want a completely different body. And I feel like I'm changing, so I'm pursuing it wholeheartedly.
Monday, October 13, 2014
Existing in a body is a weird thing. It's so familiar to you, you barely notice when things stiffen up or aging, when your body isn't what it used to be. Then you try to do something and realize with a shock how much you've changed in X years. On the flip side, every tiny little change seems significant when you're trying actively to change.
I've noticed tiny, tiny little changes. My wrists look smaller at certain angles when I'm treating patients. My scrubs fit differently. When I was twisted around to apply traction to a patient today I noticed that my scrub top twisted differently. I don't feel like I have to pull my top down as often. My red dress was falling nicer, and seemed to fit flatter over my stomach on Saturday. My fitbit is making a habit of sliding up my arm, and I'm beginning to think I should move it in a notch. These are tiny things, and half the time I can convince myself that I'm imagining it. I'm just focusing on the habits.
I've got my head in the game, and I'm actively working to establish solid habits. Way off at the beginning of this adventure, when I was discouraged and jaded and doubtful, I read a quote along the lines of "focus on the habits. The changes will follow." So that's what I've been doing. I've been focusing on prepping my food the night before, working veggies in wherever I can get them, making sure my clothes are ready for the next day so that I never have any excuses to avoid the gym, and making my schedule revolve around my Crossfit time.
Now granted, this is much easier given the fact that I love my Crossfit time, and I love my box members. If I were just trying to chase myself into a 24 Hour Fitness or a local gym for my own unguided workouts, it'd be much more of a struggle. I've always enjoyed working out, and I've always been a little disappointed in the "find something you love, and do that!" line of advice given to people trying to start an exercise program. I do love the gym and I always have. But that love never translated into any sort of change in the rest of my life. Now, though, as a member of my box, I understand that "liking" to work out and LOVING an activity are light years away from each other in terms of intensity. I love my box. Getting there is not a fight and it's not a challenge. I want to make time for this. I actually want to spend as much time on this as possible. As a therapist I know I need to allow time for healing and recovery, and days off (like today) make me pine for tomorrow. But at the moment my body likes having a day off after three days of WODs, so that's what I'm giving it.
I do have to confess, though, that my plan is to add in cardio WODs in the evening while I'm doing the whole30. I'm not going to be watching the scale. I'm not going to count calories. But I am going to be watching my performance, and it's an established fact that if I weighed less it would be easier for me to run and jump and push up and pull up and roll up and move. That's what I want. I want to do all of that better.
Our box Whole30 starts tomorrow, and I think I'm all set. I've got my groceries, I've got a new cookbook, I've told all my friends my excited anticipation, and I'm eagerly awaiting the arrival of tomorrow. I have decided that I am not going to take pictures, and I am not going to weigh myself. Both things would trigger me too strongly, and I'm feeling really good and stable right now. I'm still working with my therapist to be sure I feel stable and okay no matter what is happening with my weight or my size, but I'm not there yet and I see no need to ruin all my hard work. I'm focusing on habits, and I'm focusing on how my body feels. And I'm focusing on how I perform. That's what I want.
I've noticed tiny, tiny little changes. My wrists look smaller at certain angles when I'm treating patients. My scrubs fit differently. When I was twisted around to apply traction to a patient today I noticed that my scrub top twisted differently. I don't feel like I have to pull my top down as often. My red dress was falling nicer, and seemed to fit flatter over my stomach on Saturday. My fitbit is making a habit of sliding up my arm, and I'm beginning to think I should move it in a notch. These are tiny things, and half the time I can convince myself that I'm imagining it. I'm just focusing on the habits.
I've got my head in the game, and I'm actively working to establish solid habits. Way off at the beginning of this adventure, when I was discouraged and jaded and doubtful, I read a quote along the lines of "focus on the habits. The changes will follow." So that's what I've been doing. I've been focusing on prepping my food the night before, working veggies in wherever I can get them, making sure my clothes are ready for the next day so that I never have any excuses to avoid the gym, and making my schedule revolve around my Crossfit time.
Now granted, this is much easier given the fact that I love my Crossfit time, and I love my box members. If I were just trying to chase myself into a 24 Hour Fitness or a local gym for my own unguided workouts, it'd be much more of a struggle. I've always enjoyed working out, and I've always been a little disappointed in the "find something you love, and do that!" line of advice given to people trying to start an exercise program. I do love the gym and I always have. But that love never translated into any sort of change in the rest of my life. Now, though, as a member of my box, I understand that "liking" to work out and LOVING an activity are light years away from each other in terms of intensity. I love my box. Getting there is not a fight and it's not a challenge. I want to make time for this. I actually want to spend as much time on this as possible. As a therapist I know I need to allow time for healing and recovery, and days off (like today) make me pine for tomorrow. But at the moment my body likes having a day off after three days of WODs, so that's what I'm giving it.
I do have to confess, though, that my plan is to add in cardio WODs in the evening while I'm doing the whole30. I'm not going to be watching the scale. I'm not going to count calories. But I am going to be watching my performance, and it's an established fact that if I weighed less it would be easier for me to run and jump and push up and pull up and roll up and move. That's what I want. I want to do all of that better.
Our box Whole30 starts tomorrow, and I think I'm all set. I've got my groceries, I've got a new cookbook, I've told all my friends my excited anticipation, and I'm eagerly awaiting the arrival of tomorrow. I have decided that I am not going to take pictures, and I am not going to weigh myself. Both things would trigger me too strongly, and I'm feeling really good and stable right now. I'm still working with my therapist to be sure I feel stable and okay no matter what is happening with my weight or my size, but I'm not there yet and I see no need to ruin all my hard work. I'm focusing on habits, and I'm focusing on how my body feels. And I'm focusing on how I perform. That's what I want.
Bad ass
I saw these socks on Sockdreams.com and I had to have them. In Crossfit women wear knee-high socks to protect their shins, usually with a pair of booty shorts because Crossfit woman have asses that deserve them. I'm definitely not ready to make the jump to booty shorts, but the socks made me happy.
.JPG)
I wore them to the open workout on Saturday and everyone commented. I answered that I was just trying to live up to them. In no way do I think I'm a bad ass yet, but I'm certainly trying.
The box is holding a Whole30 challenge starting tomorrow, and I've been spending the week getting ready for it. The idea behind a Whole30 is basically that you eat food the way it grows--no processed foods. This includes "processing" in terms of turning wheat (or anything else) into flour, and "processing" rice to make it edible, and "processing" soy to make it protein shakes or tofu. Basically, we're eating fruits and veggies and certain fats (olive oil, coconut oil, olives, avocado) and proteins. I've been 90% doing this to get in the swing of it, but I still haven't completely given up dairy. I told Kesha that she could pry my milky tea from my cold, dead hands. I'm mourning this and counting down the days. But I'm willing to try it to see how my body responds. I'm actually suspecting that my body will love it, because I do have such a solid workhorse of a body. We eat very little processed food anyway, but I'm willing to try it to see if my body does respond in a strong negative way to dairy.
I'm also willing to try it if it makes my Crossfit workouts better. I'm not as focused on weight loss now. I decided this morning that I'm not going to weigh in for this 30 day challenge, either. It's not about the weight of my body. It's about the weight that I can lift. I'm focusing on that. I know that if I got on the scale right now I'd be full of doubt and panic and I'd question the habits I'm working really hard to put in place and I'd basically destroy all the work I've done for the past two months. So I'm not going to do it. I'm doing this for Crossfit. For my workouts, for my lifting, for my jumprope, for my running. And that's it. The number on the scale is nothing I need to know right now.
I wore them to the open workout on Saturday and everyone commented. I answered that I was just trying to live up to them. In no way do I think I'm a bad ass yet, but I'm certainly trying.
The box is holding a Whole30 challenge starting tomorrow, and I've been spending the week getting ready for it. The idea behind a Whole30 is basically that you eat food the way it grows--no processed foods. This includes "processing" in terms of turning wheat (or anything else) into flour, and "processing" rice to make it edible, and "processing" soy to make it protein shakes or tofu. Basically, we're eating fruits and veggies and certain fats (olive oil, coconut oil, olives, avocado) and proteins. I've been 90% doing this to get in the swing of it, but I still haven't completely given up dairy. I told Kesha that she could pry my milky tea from my cold, dead hands. I'm mourning this and counting down the days. But I'm willing to try it to see how my body responds. I'm actually suspecting that my body will love it, because I do have such a solid workhorse of a body. We eat very little processed food anyway, but I'm willing to try it to see if my body does respond in a strong negative way to dairy.
I'm also willing to try it if it makes my Crossfit workouts better. I'm not as focused on weight loss now. I decided this morning that I'm not going to weigh in for this 30 day challenge, either. It's not about the weight of my body. It's about the weight that I can lift. I'm focusing on that. I know that if I got on the scale right now I'd be full of doubt and panic and I'd question the habits I'm working really hard to put in place and I'd basically destroy all the work I've done for the past two months. So I'm not going to do it. I'm doing this for Crossfit. For my workouts, for my lifting, for my jumprope, for my running. And that's it. The number on the scale is nothing I need to know right now.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Last night I dragged home after a 5:30am WOD and a full patient load monday. I collapsed in bed at 7:30, and I was out like a light. I woke up for about an hour at 2:00, then I was out again til 8:30. Thankfully, that huge sleep did me a world of good and I woke up full of good cheer and energy. I decided to check the schedule, and immediately committed myself to the 9:45 class. I'll admit, I did look at the WOD. When I saw it was all strength and included the deadlift, I was all in. I love deads.
I threw on my clothes and got over to the box. Bill was instructing, Rick was there, and another gentleman I did not know. I waved and threw my stuff in a box on the wall, then came over and introduced myself. People arrived and we started.
Our SWOD was 5 sets of 3 snatch grip deadlift. I started at 73#. Pretty light. Added 20 for 93#. Did three sets of three. Bill glanced over and checked on me as I stood with my hands on my hips and chest heaving.
"What's up?"
"I'm trying to decide if I want to add on," I glared at my bar.
"Well that's the principle of progressive resistance," he answered. "Add on until your last one is a fail."
I can do that, I thought, and added 20 pounds. I did two more sets, and felt my form failing on the last couple of reps. 113#. I can accept that!
The WOD was uneven, a 16 minute AMRAP with few reps for the power move and three times as many reps for the move that recruits the smallest muscles. Several members commented on flipping the reps, but we did it as written. My elbow and wrist started screaming at me in the first round. I looked at Bill.
"Elbow. I'm gonna strip it and work with the empty bar." He nodded and I stripped my bar and got to work.
16 minutes is a long AMRAP. The deadlift, 3 reps with an empty bar, felt stupidly easy. The overhead press, though, with a grumpy wrist and elbow, was work. Time was called and I felt like my arms were going to fall off. I panted and walked to the fence, swinging my arms.
.JPG)
When I got back to the box I realized I had just finished a workout for my third day in a row. I achieved my first written goal! A quick text later and Tiffany was celebrating with me. Written goals are powerful things. I hadn't even been focused on that goal, but because it was written down my brain was continuing to work on it in the background.That begs the question...what else do I need to write down?
I threw on my clothes and got over to the box. Bill was instructing, Rick was there, and another gentleman I did not know. I waved and threw my stuff in a box on the wall, then came over and introduced myself. People arrived and we started.
Our SWOD was 5 sets of 3 snatch grip deadlift. I started at 73#. Pretty light. Added 20 for 93#. Did three sets of three. Bill glanced over and checked on me as I stood with my hands on my hips and chest heaving.
"What's up?"
"I'm trying to decide if I want to add on," I glared at my bar.
"Well that's the principle of progressive resistance," he answered. "Add on until your last one is a fail."
I can do that, I thought, and added 20 pounds. I did two more sets, and felt my form failing on the last couple of reps. 113#. I can accept that!
The WOD was uneven, a 16 minute AMRAP with few reps for the power move and three times as many reps for the move that recruits the smallest muscles. Several members commented on flipping the reps, but we did it as written. My elbow and wrist started screaming at me in the first round. I looked at Bill.
"Elbow. I'm gonna strip it and work with the empty bar." He nodded and I stripped my bar and got to work.
16 minutes is a long AMRAP. The deadlift, 3 reps with an empty bar, felt stupidly easy. The overhead press, though, with a grumpy wrist and elbow, was work. Time was called and I felt like my arms were going to fall off. I panted and walked to the fence, swinging my arms.
When I got back to the box I realized I had just finished a workout for my third day in a row. I achieved my first written goal! A quick text later and Tiffany was celebrating with me. Written goals are powerful things. I hadn't even been focused on that goal, but because it was written down my brain was continuing to work on it in the background.That begs the question...what else do I need to write down?
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Today has been an ordeal of ups and downs.
This morning I went to Open Gym. For various reasons I didn't make the workout yesterday, and I promised I'd go today. My promise to myself was that I'd figure out my 1 rep max for power clean, and then do the WOD from yesterday.
Rick offered up his formula for figuring out a 1RM, which was something like
[(Previous weight that you could do sets with x 10) (0.033)] + weight you did sets with
(basically, add on a third of what you'd repped before)
...which came out to about 70. Okay. I started at 53#. Reps, no problem. Move to 15s. No problem. Add 5s to each side. More work, but I knew I could go heavier. Add 5 more pounds to each side. I walked away, turned to look at it, approached again. Squatted down. Mick and Rick (I swear, that's not some attempt at being cute on my part!) both turned to watch.
...and I 1RM'd at 83 pounds!!
.JPG)
Now if you look closely at the picture, you'll notice it's not the October I posted earlier. Yep, someone had erased it again, but then put up almost exactly the same thing. Huh? I stood and stared at it, just confused. Not hurt--"No one knew you drew it, it's not personal"--but really confused. Was there something wrong with my pumpkins?? Mick noticed me staring at it and came to talk to me.
"Hey. Ryan told me you were upset on Friday," Mick said.
"Yeah, I was, I felt kinda rejected. But...I'm confused..." I looked at the board again. Definitely not my October.
"Yeah. It was erased again--" Mick explained the religious affiliations of some members of the box, and how he thought it had been erased because Hallowe'en is a "pagan" holiday. "But Ashlyn and I drew it up again for you."
"I know it's silly, but it matters to me. It's a tiny contribution to the box. I know I'm slow. I know I have to modify the crap out of every WOD. I know I'm new. But I just...it doesn't hurt anything..." I tried to justify my feelings.
"I get it. You're doing great. I have no problem with it AT ALL. You're doing fantastic." Mick said.
Feeling better, I set up for my WOD. 15 minute AMRAP of pushups, air squats, and 250 meter rows. Okay! Chugging through, panting and gasping and running out of power because I was working on an empty stomach, I still managed 5 rounds and 7 reps. I glanced at the clock. I was running late for a date--I hate being late--but my priorities were 100% in line with my goals. Awesome.
So I left the box with a new PR under my belt and the buzz of a solid WOD, in addition to the assurance that I have a place in this world. The day was off to a great start!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Almost two hours later, I arrived at a friend's house for her birthday. I hate being late, it makes me anxious and guilty, and I was 45 minutes late. Ouch. I apologized profusely, feeling clumsy and ham-handed. I still hadn't had a chance to eat anything, and my hands shook when I tried to shake the hand of someone I had not met. Feeling off already, we left the house.
At our destination, a fabric store, my creative muse had left me. My stomach growled. My hands shook. I was tired, grumpy, and had no creative vision at all. This is usually one of my favorite places, but this particular afternoon I was having an awful time. I sat and flipped through pattern books, looking for a pattern similar to a skirt I'd recently admired. Nothing. When the others were finally ready, I climbed in the truck and we went to lunch.
At lunch we were 5 to a booth, with me in a chair at the end. I preferred it that way, but the plates were large and my plate was an awkward, cramped addition. Desperate for food I had stared at the menu for a long time, wanting everything. I was the last to order, and the last to have my food served. I ordered a bacon cheeseburger and onion rings. I ate three of the onion rings and half the burger, and I was okay again. I was fine. I wasn't full, but I wasn't desperately hungry either. I could have stopped.
One of the girls asked me about recently joining Crossfit and I began to expound. I waxed rhapsodic, really, proclaiming it my passionate love and the thing I've constructed my life around. As I waved me arms and smiled, someone snapped a picture. And then showed it to me.
OUCH.
Pictures have always been a trigger for me. I avoid them as much as I can. Even our wedding pictures aren't on display--they're not even in an album, they're still in their envelopes from 14 years ago stuffed in a closet somewhere. No pictures of me are on display in our house. I am not photogenic, and I've actually had more than one person make comments like, "You don't look anything like your pictures. You're pretty!" (Thanks...I think?) The picture today was no different. Aside from the widespread arms as I gestured and the closed eyes, the tight flat hair and the threads from the fabric store scattered over my dress, my pale skin made me look sick and my mouth was open as I talked. Trust me, this was a baaaaaad picture. I asked her to delete it. I asked again. I asked again. I got "nope!" and a cackle each time. I crammed the rest of the burger in my mouth. I'm getting more sensitive to the amount of food my body wants, and the rest of that burger was too much. I regretted it before I finished chewing. But I ate it anyway.
On the drive back to the house we were talking about the work one person does on TV and how the camera adds 10-15 pounds, and I said, "yeah, which is why I want you to DELETE THAT PICTURE." Again a "no" and a cackle. I retreated to my miserable stomach and was quiet for the rest of the drive.
When we got back to the house I made my manners and headed for home. It's an hour drive, and I was distracted the entire way by the thoughts of that picture and the thoughts of where I could stop to get something to eat. I did not stop. But I also could not find a way to let the picture go.
Arriving back home, I ate a brownie we'd purchased for the BBQ yesterday. I twitched. I was fidgety. I was distressed. I reached out to another friend, one who knows of my struggles with food. She did a brilliant job of calming me down and helping me let it go and refocus, and I started my prep work for tomorrow.
Gym clothes and scrubs are clean and ready to go. Breakfast is made and in the fridge. Lunch is made and packed and ready to take to work. Dinner is planned and ready to reheat. I am set for tomorrow. I'm back on track and pointed toward where I want to be. It's been one hell of a roller coaster day, but I'm good with where I am now at the end of it.
This morning I went to Open Gym. For various reasons I didn't make the workout yesterday, and I promised I'd go today. My promise to myself was that I'd figure out my 1 rep max for power clean, and then do the WOD from yesterday.
Rick offered up his formula for figuring out a 1RM, which was something like
[(Previous weight that you could do sets with x 10) (0.033)] + weight you did sets with
(basically, add on a third of what you'd repped before)
...which came out to about 70. Okay. I started at 53#. Reps, no problem. Move to 15s. No problem. Add 5s to each side. More work, but I knew I could go heavier. Add 5 more pounds to each side. I walked away, turned to look at it, approached again. Squatted down. Mick and Rick (I swear, that's not some attempt at being cute on my part!) both turned to watch.
...and I 1RM'd at 83 pounds!!
Now if you look closely at the picture, you'll notice it's not the October I posted earlier. Yep, someone had erased it again, but then put up almost exactly the same thing. Huh? I stood and stared at it, just confused. Not hurt--"No one knew you drew it, it's not personal"--but really confused. Was there something wrong with my pumpkins?? Mick noticed me staring at it and came to talk to me.
"Hey. Ryan told me you were upset on Friday," Mick said.
"Yeah, I was, I felt kinda rejected. But...I'm confused..." I looked at the board again. Definitely not my October.
"Yeah. It was erased again--" Mick explained the religious affiliations of some members of the box, and how he thought it had been erased because Hallowe'en is a "pagan" holiday. "But Ashlyn and I drew it up again for you."
"I know it's silly, but it matters to me. It's a tiny contribution to the box. I know I'm slow. I know I have to modify the crap out of every WOD. I know I'm new. But I just...it doesn't hurt anything..." I tried to justify my feelings.
"I get it. You're doing great. I have no problem with it AT ALL. You're doing fantastic." Mick said.
Feeling better, I set up for my WOD. 15 minute AMRAP of pushups, air squats, and 250 meter rows. Okay! Chugging through, panting and gasping and running out of power because I was working on an empty stomach, I still managed 5 rounds and 7 reps. I glanced at the clock. I was running late for a date--I hate being late--but my priorities were 100% in line with my goals. Awesome.
So I left the box with a new PR under my belt and the buzz of a solid WOD, in addition to the assurance that I have a place in this world. The day was off to a great start!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Almost two hours later, I arrived at a friend's house for her birthday. I hate being late, it makes me anxious and guilty, and I was 45 minutes late. Ouch. I apologized profusely, feeling clumsy and ham-handed. I still hadn't had a chance to eat anything, and my hands shook when I tried to shake the hand of someone I had not met. Feeling off already, we left the house.
At our destination, a fabric store, my creative muse had left me. My stomach growled. My hands shook. I was tired, grumpy, and had no creative vision at all. This is usually one of my favorite places, but this particular afternoon I was having an awful time. I sat and flipped through pattern books, looking for a pattern similar to a skirt I'd recently admired. Nothing. When the others were finally ready, I climbed in the truck and we went to lunch.
At lunch we were 5 to a booth, with me in a chair at the end. I preferred it that way, but the plates were large and my plate was an awkward, cramped addition. Desperate for food I had stared at the menu for a long time, wanting everything. I was the last to order, and the last to have my food served. I ordered a bacon cheeseburger and onion rings. I ate three of the onion rings and half the burger, and I was okay again. I was fine. I wasn't full, but I wasn't desperately hungry either. I could have stopped.
One of the girls asked me about recently joining Crossfit and I began to expound. I waxed rhapsodic, really, proclaiming it my passionate love and the thing I've constructed my life around. As I waved me arms and smiled, someone snapped a picture. And then showed it to me.
OUCH.
Pictures have always been a trigger for me. I avoid them as much as I can. Even our wedding pictures aren't on display--they're not even in an album, they're still in their envelopes from 14 years ago stuffed in a closet somewhere. No pictures of me are on display in our house. I am not photogenic, and I've actually had more than one person make comments like, "You don't look anything like your pictures. You're pretty!" (Thanks...I think?) The picture today was no different. Aside from the widespread arms as I gestured and the closed eyes, the tight flat hair and the threads from the fabric store scattered over my dress, my pale skin made me look sick and my mouth was open as I talked. Trust me, this was a baaaaaad picture. I asked her to delete it. I asked again. I asked again. I got "nope!" and a cackle each time. I crammed the rest of the burger in my mouth. I'm getting more sensitive to the amount of food my body wants, and the rest of that burger was too much. I regretted it before I finished chewing. But I ate it anyway.
On the drive back to the house we were talking about the work one person does on TV and how the camera adds 10-15 pounds, and I said, "yeah, which is why I want you to DELETE THAT PICTURE." Again a "no" and a cackle. I retreated to my miserable stomach and was quiet for the rest of the drive.
When we got back to the house I made my manners and headed for home. It's an hour drive, and I was distracted the entire way by the thoughts of that picture and the thoughts of where I could stop to get something to eat. I did not stop. But I also could not find a way to let the picture go.
Arriving back home, I ate a brownie we'd purchased for the BBQ yesterday. I twitched. I was fidgety. I was distressed. I reached out to another friend, one who knows of my struggles with food. She did a brilliant job of calming me down and helping me let it go and refocus, and I started my prep work for tomorrow.
Gym clothes and scrubs are clean and ready to go. Breakfast is made and in the fridge. Lunch is made and packed and ready to take to work. Dinner is planned and ready to reheat. I am set for tomorrow. I'm back on track and pointed toward where I want to be. It's been one hell of a roller coaster day, but I'm good with where I am now at the end of it.
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