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!!

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.