Pink Horses and Glitter Will Kill Your Stupid Sad Face.

A couple of days ago, a good friend and I were discussing how annoying self love talk and positive thinking talk has been for us lately. We are so wonderfully in tune to the positive side of things, when we actually WANT to be in a funk it takes work to remain there. Let me repeat this: IT TAKES US WORK TO BE SAD FACE. Revolutionary thought, eh? When we're happy, I don't think the majority of us immediately begin listing everything that is amazing in our lives to perpetuate the happiness... Most of us simply allow it to be, thankful it's there. We probably say things like "what a pretty day" or "I love being stuck inside when it's too cold for life" Yet, when the pouty face rolls in, so does the laundry list of negative things and we say things like "too bad the sun sucks so much" and "it will never be warm again." If I so much as waver off the negative thinking task while having my pouty face on, my brain strides in on a fucking pink horse of glitter and babydontbesosadface rainbows to pull me out of the trenches. What a pain in the ass that can be.

Yesterday I came to the conclusion that my back would not be well enough to go back to Crossfit for a few weeks. This is a real injury, and one that will haunt me if I don't heal correctly. It could mean the difference between doing box jumps at 70 or reminiscing about doing box jumps at 70. I threatened to punch a puppy, or at least curse at a pretty flower. Instead I yelled at my dirty dishes for being so dirty all the time.

I'm still thoroughly annoyed at how reasonable I am, how I always choose the high road in the majority of difficult situations, and how I always manage to find the tiniest speck of positivity in seemingly bleak situations. For the first time, I'm giving credence that my inner cheerleader is stronger than the darkness and being beaten on by pom poms of "buck up bitch" is much more painful to take.

It's easier to be happy for once and oh dear God, that is SO ANNOYING to say.

Sacroiliac Joint, Nice to Meet You

On Friday the class took on Christine. Three rounds: 500m row, 21 box jumps, 12 deadlifts at body weight. I was nursing a tight right side, almost pulled right calf and decided to scale the box jumps to give my lower half a bit of rest. I continued on with the RX'd body weight deadlift at 145#s which was by no means unreasonable.

On the last round of deadlifts, seconds from me calling time, an eversoslight deviation caused a pull in my lower back that said YOUSTOPNOW. So I stopped. I triggerpointed. I was walking. I was moving. Two hours later I was frozen on my office floor, unable to move, sit up, get up, without white-hot, overwhelming pain.

I have an extraordinary pain tolerance. It takes something deep and heavy to bring me to me knees, for better or for worse. For getting tattoos, it's for the better, for managing injuries, it's for the worse. Anyway, my fear was that I finally slipped a disc, or herniated something back there, because the pain WASSOFUCKINGBAD. Long story, and long weekend on my back later, it wasn't a disc, but my sacroiliac joint in my pelvis which was tweaked beyond measure. My hips were a full inch off level, and all I could do was rest.



This is the homeboy who is creating such a disturbance.

My IAMCROSSFIT goals have been amended to reflect my current condition. I have no idea how long this will put me out, I have no idea what my mobility will be once I'm able to start lifting weight again, all I know is that I never want to feel this pain again. Ever. Again.

This won't be the first time I've gone back to remedial lifting school, and I'm weaving my way back to being thankful for it. Nothing bad can come out of revisiting form and technique, and the greatest blessing from injuries is that they are the best reset buttons.

And just so you readers know I'm not the superhuman of optimism, I'm still quite bitter about having to back off.

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xoxox!

#105 and an Anniversary.

Over a year ago, waaaay back in October 2010, I pushed 100# over my head. This morning, after all this time being completely inconsistent with my training and recovering from a white-hot sinus/lung infection, I pushed 105#.

Three years ago to the day I could not do more than 3 push ups on my knees without stopping and it took me 30 minutes to make it through half (less than, actually) of the standard warm up.

Happy 3 Year Anniversary, Crossfit Central. Thanks for helping me reclaim my life and give my body a purpose.

Dear Pastry Case, your insides don't play nice with my insides.

Three years ago I decided that I wanted to be fit. Little did I know that fit would transition into athlete. I had no aspirations of running less than a 9 minute mile; I didn't want to do pull ups; I didn't want lift 100#s over my head... I very simply wanted to feel better: better about myself, better in my body, and I knew the clock was ticking. Each second I delayed taking the leap, my bad behavior was gelling and would become more and more difficult to change.

There was no plan, no strategy. All I had was this nagging desire to be different. Frankly, that's all a person really needs.

I completed the I AM CROSSFIT challenge first benchmark this weekend and was very surprised with my results. After nine months of inconsistent training, and total eating failure (ie-peanut butter, nutella and jam sandwiches, wine, wine, wine, you name it, I ate it), I pulled off the elite level and it was like I had never left. I got as far as the very first time I did the workout in 2009.

But, this time I did it with 95# hang cleans and unassisted pull ups. I've never felt so good about a DNF.

My first thought the morning of the challenge was how incredible it was that here I am, about to embark on my fourth year in this new body, and not only am I taking on the elite level, but it's not unreasonable in the least.

I had three goals that day and attaining one would leave me feeling successful:

- Complete 2 full rounds
- Positive thinking the entire time
- Perfect form

On the runs, I spent the time remembering push ups on my knees, not being able to run more than 100m without stopping, using the 10# weights and being so.damn.exhausted. I remembered Catherine and I huffing and puffing, cleaning a 35# bar and being so sore after just a few squats. I had a reunion with my success. I didn't have a negative thought the entire time, my form was perfect, and I got 2 complete rounds done.

My training regimen is very aggressive: 5 workouts a week, plus 400m sprints and a 5k. I'm not on a whiff of Advocare, and I'm going to see how much can really be gained solely on diet and exercise. After a week of clean eating, I stood in front of the pastry case at Whole Foods and literally felt sick. I also replayed the final scene of Labyrinth, where Sarah tells the goblin king "you have no power over me" :



It's at the 2 minute mark.

Anyholyshiti'magonnagetsodamnrippedineightweeks... no almond butter, no cheats, no alcohol, clean as a whistle eating and hard core training. It's going to be off the hook yo.

PS- one thing that is absolutely IMPERATIVE to a successful fitness challenge, is a support team. YOU NEED PEOPLE AROUND YOU. I am lucky enough to have two groups: my IAM team and the Team Phoenix ladies, new member Matti, who are inspirational beyond measure. I get kind of squealie when I think about how fucking amazing our asses and brains will be by March. Bikini shopping will be so satisfying.

2011 : Wide Expanses and Deep Breaths

I just returned from a four day camping trip to Big Bend in west Texas, and I find myself mostly speechless in describing what happened to my grip on the world, and my heart, after standing next to such massive stone formations, under a sky filled with stars, and beside a lovely man. As much as it pained me to admit it, I realized that I've been a stranger to myself for a long time. I'm sure this is completely normal given the changes that have occurred since 2007. Specifically, since the last time I smoked a cigarette on March 14th, 2007, at approximately 10pm. I stepped off a cliff that night, into a very unknown world and it's been a steady succession of metaphorical cliff jumping, into many different unknowns, over the last four years.

Given all this free falling I've been doing, I had forgotten what the ground felt like, until this weekend. A switch, a light, an eversoslight shift occurred in my brain somewhere outside Alpine, Texas, during which my gaze turned from "what's next" to "right now" and I felt the ground for the first time in years.

It feels like home.



Ok 2011, here's my intention:

I'm going to stare out into the wide expanse that is January through December, much like I stared out at the mountains and stars in Big Bend, take many, many deep breaths, and allow whatever is coming to come. When I look up at the stars, I'll remember that behind the light pollution it looks like this. I will remember that the most profound experiences, the ones that will enrich my old age, often come without guarantees. Their outcomes will vary wildly, going beyond adjectives like good and bad, they will require me to be confident in my vulnerability and unafraid of the next day. I will remember where I started, how long it has taken me to get here, and have the patience to allow this life to unfold without force or unnecessary friction.

If all hell breaks loose again, for the fourth year in a row, I'll deal the best I can and remind myself that the expectation is not for things to get easier, but that I become better.



“If you will call your troubles experiences, and remember that every experience develops some latent force within you, you will grow vigorous and happy, however adverse your circumstances may seem to be.” ~John Heywood



Happy New Year, friends.

Gravity Rides Everything