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.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
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.
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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.
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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!!
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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.
Saturday, October 4, 2014
Wednesday was October 1st. I followed Ryan into the box at 5:15am, as usual. When Ryan started erasing to make space for the day's WOD I realized the PR board needed updating to the new month. I double-checked to make sure it was okay, then grabbed a handful of dry-erase markers and got busy putting "October" in the place of "September". Satisfied, I joined wednesday's WOD.
Friday morning when I walked in the first thing I noticed was that someone had erased my October and scrawled a hasty October in its place. Feelings of rejection smacked me in the face. I felt judged. Had someone not liked my art? Was it too silly for the "hardcore" mentality of Crossfit? Should I not have done it in the first place? Immediately my voices started yelling at me. No one here likes you! You shouldn't be here! You're fooling yourself that this is where you belong! I forced myself to setup for the WOD, but my eyes kept straying to the PR board.
Our WOD was a strength WOD, decreasing sets of power cleans and ring rows, and then 3 rounds of 250 meter rows for time. Bothered by my negative voices, I struggled through my first 10 power cleans and dropped the bar. I put my fists on my hips and panted, looking around the room. No one was looking at me. No one was noticing me. No one cares if you're here, my inner voice sneered. I slipped out the door and started to walk to the fence.
Tiffany's coaching came to mind and I consciously tried to direct my thinking. Conveniently last week's topic was Confidence, and the coaching sheet sprang to mind.
You're awesome! You're here and you're doing this!
You've done power cleans before, you're great!
You're strong and you're powerful, and you're getting it done!
I breathed and walked and flooded my brain with positive thoughts. Halfway to the fence I turned and came back to the box, determined to finish my SWOD. I tore through the power cleans, focused very sharply on the ring rows, and finished all three rounds of the row before anyone else had even started.
I blinked. Obviously. I looked at the plain October. It's not like I signed it. No one knew it was me. No one has a vendetta against my attempts to contribute. All my hurt went out of me, and I realized that I had taken something that wasn't personal as a judgment and a rejection of my entire being. Being naturally self-effacing and tender of spirit, I wondered how many times in the past I'd done the same thing and how many of the hurts I had clung to over the years actually had nothing to do with me at all. I looked at Ryan.
"Is it okay if I re-draw it?" When Ryan nodded I grabbed my clutch of pens and went to the board again. The goal is personal growth. Sometimes, it comes in the form you least expect.
Friday morning when I walked in the first thing I noticed was that someone had erased my October and scrawled a hasty October in its place. Feelings of rejection smacked me in the face. I felt judged. Had someone not liked my art? Was it too silly for the "hardcore" mentality of Crossfit? Should I not have done it in the first place? Immediately my voices started yelling at me. No one here likes you! You shouldn't be here! You're fooling yourself that this is where you belong! I forced myself to setup for the WOD, but my eyes kept straying to the PR board.
Our WOD was a strength WOD, decreasing sets of power cleans and ring rows, and then 3 rounds of 250 meter rows for time. Bothered by my negative voices, I struggled through my first 10 power cleans and dropped the bar. I put my fists on my hips and panted, looking around the room. No one was looking at me. No one was noticing me. No one cares if you're here, my inner voice sneered. I slipped out the door and started to walk to the fence.
Tiffany's coaching came to mind and I consciously tried to direct my thinking. Conveniently last week's topic was Confidence, and the coaching sheet sprang to mind.
You're awesome! You're here and you're doing this!
You've done power cleans before, you're great!
You're strong and you're powerful, and you're getting it done!
I breathed and walked and flooded my brain with positive thoughts. Halfway to the fence I turned and came back to the box, determined to finish my SWOD. I tore through the power cleans, focused very sharply on the ring rows, and finished all three rounds of the row before anyone else had even started.
I caught my breath by the board, glaring. My hurt had a tinge of anger in it, and the row had made it visible.
"What's up?" Ryan asked.
Like a damn bursting I babbled. "I drew the October on wednesday and you said it was okay and then someone erased it and I don't know if they didn't like it but I thought it was cool and I know it's not hardcore but it's just a board and I thought it was okay and I was just trying to contribute but now I don't even know if I belong here and I thought I was okay here but I guess not does everyone hate me?" I took a breath.
"Whoa," Ryan said. "I liked it, I thought it was cool. I like having you here. You're definitely a part of the box. No one knew you drew it. It wasn't about you. It was probably one of the kids."
"Is it okay if I re-draw it?" When Ryan nodded I grabbed my clutch of pens and went to the board again. The goal is personal growth. Sometimes, it comes in the form you least expect.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
We had a workout for time. The board listed a buy-in and a cash-out, and in between was:
3 rounds for time (30 min cap)
20 wallballs
400 meter run
30 minutes. 30 minutes. I can walk 3x400 meters in 30 minutes, I told myself. I decided to do it. "Get past 90 or I'll pull you and have you do air squats," Coach Ryan warned the room. Clock started and we were off.
I finished the buy-in. I finished the first 20 wallballs. Without pausing to think about it, I slipped out the front door.
At 6am it was still dark. My fellow box members were just dark shapes. I quickly realized that we were running to the far fire hydrant, not the one in the middle of the block. Damn, I thought, and kept going. I made it to the first fire hydrant, and partway to the second. I dropped to a walk, swung around, and fought my way back to the box. My calves were on fire so badly I couldn't walk straight. I leaned over a box for leverage and tried to stretch. Seeing me curled forward, Coach Ryan came to check.
"You okay?" he asked.
I looked up and nodded. "I just did the 400," I winced at my calves as I changed feet.
"You did the 400 meter?" I nodded. "Now THAT'S what I'm talking about!" A fistbump later, he was off to check on another boxmate.
More wallballs, 10 at a time out of respect for my calves, being careful to get past 90 on the catch so I wouldn't be pulled. Out the door for the run.
WHY DID I AGREE TO THIS??? I wailed at myself. Tiffany's training kicked in. It's just a box run. You're going the scenic route. Just a box run. I can do this! I walked most of it, but I did it.
More wallballs, 5 at a time. I noticed that most people were finished with their workout, but I've not yet ever compared myself to anyone and I have no intention of starting. I'm fighting my battle with myself. I swung out the door for my last run.
The first 50 meters of the 400 meters is up a small hill. Gasping for air already, I walked that, yelling encouraging things at the few members who were finishing. Once I got to the top of the rise, I was alone on the street. About 75 meters of flat leads to the first fire hydrant, and then 75 meters slightly downhill from that is the fire hydrant where we turn. I walked, panting, to the first. Time is still going! I told myself and hitched up to run downhill. Turning around, I found Tim behind me. He said encouraging things and fell into my struggling walk beside me. I wasn't conversational.
At the top of the hill by the middle fire hydrant I saw the outline of Ed and his fuzzy poodle Louis. Gasping to the top, I asked Ed, "did you come out to finish with me?" Jovially Ed answered, "Just making sure everyone is safe!" and turned to fall in beside me and Tim. We got to the crest of the small rise. 50 meters til the box.
"Wanna run it in?" I said to the air, not even bothering to turn my head and look at my companions.
"Let's kill it!" said Tim.
"Let's get it done!" said Ed from behind me. And we ran down the hill back to the front door. I finished my cash-out and called time. 26:59, and I fought for every step. I was the last one done, and I was fiercely proud of myself.
When I could breathe again I got up off the floor and sought out Ed and Tim to thank them both for encouraging me with my struggle. My box is good people. They're there for me, and anything I can do, I'm there for them.
.JPG)
3 rounds for time (30 min cap)
20 wallballs
400 meter run
30 minutes. 30 minutes. I can walk 3x400 meters in 30 minutes, I told myself. I decided to do it. "Get past 90 or I'll pull you and have you do air squats," Coach Ryan warned the room. Clock started and we were off.
I finished the buy-in. I finished the first 20 wallballs. Without pausing to think about it, I slipped out the front door.
At 6am it was still dark. My fellow box members were just dark shapes. I quickly realized that we were running to the far fire hydrant, not the one in the middle of the block. Damn, I thought, and kept going. I made it to the first fire hydrant, and partway to the second. I dropped to a walk, swung around, and fought my way back to the box. My calves were on fire so badly I couldn't walk straight. I leaned over a box for leverage and tried to stretch. Seeing me curled forward, Coach Ryan came to check.
"You okay?" he asked.
I looked up and nodded. "I just did the 400," I winced at my calves as I changed feet.
"You did the 400 meter?" I nodded. "Now THAT'S what I'm talking about!" A fistbump later, he was off to check on another boxmate.
More wallballs, 10 at a time out of respect for my calves, being careful to get past 90 on the catch so I wouldn't be pulled. Out the door for the run.
WHY DID I AGREE TO THIS??? I wailed at myself. Tiffany's training kicked in. It's just a box run. You're going the scenic route. Just a box run. I can do this! I walked most of it, but I did it.
More wallballs, 5 at a time. I noticed that most people were finished with their workout, but I've not yet ever compared myself to anyone and I have no intention of starting. I'm fighting my battle with myself. I swung out the door for my last run.
The first 50 meters of the 400 meters is up a small hill. Gasping for air already, I walked that, yelling encouraging things at the few members who were finishing. Once I got to the top of the rise, I was alone on the street. About 75 meters of flat leads to the first fire hydrant, and then 75 meters slightly downhill from that is the fire hydrant where we turn. I walked, panting, to the first. Time is still going! I told myself and hitched up to run downhill. Turning around, I found Tim behind me. He said encouraging things and fell into my struggling walk beside me. I wasn't conversational.
At the top of the hill by the middle fire hydrant I saw the outline of Ed and his fuzzy poodle Louis. Gasping to the top, I asked Ed, "did you come out to finish with me?" Jovially Ed answered, "Just making sure everyone is safe!" and turned to fall in beside me and Tim. We got to the crest of the small rise. 50 meters til the box.
"Wanna run it in?" I said to the air, not even bothering to turn my head and look at my companions.
"Let's kill it!" said Tim.
"Let's get it done!" said Ed from behind me. And we ran down the hill back to the front door. I finished my cash-out and called time. 26:59, and I fought for every step. I was the last one done, and I was fiercely proud of myself.
When I could breathe again I got up off the floor and sought out Ed and Tim to thank them both for encouraging me with my struggle. My box is good people. They're there for me, and anything I can do, I'm there for them.
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