What Resolutioners Really Get Wrong

Ok, resolutioners get a lot wrong.  Everyone who works out all year long dreads January and the influx of people with no idea what they are doing and no understanding of gym etiquette.  I could spend pages listing the in the gym wrongs of the resolutioner, but that is not what this post is about.

This post is about the out of the gym wrongs of the resolutioner.   Every year, between Christmas and New Year's it begins - the all out blitz of media campaigns swearing you need a new you in the new year.   Gyms, weight loss programs, home workout systems all bombard us with advertising designed to do no more than separate people from their money.  They convince you now is the time for change.

What makes January 1 so special?  Why is it the day for millions of people to drastically change their eating habits and start working out?   Because the advertisers tell us it is while raking in the cash.   That is it.  There is nothing special about January 1.

I couldn't tell you what day I started lifting in a commercial gym.  I can tell you it was in 1992, maybe 1993, could have even been 1994 but I know it was the fall.  I remember this because I discovered shortly after joining Bethlehem Racquetball Club that they didn't bother to de-ice the huge set of stairs going up to the front door.   And I guarantee no marketing had anything to do with it.  I was 90 pounds (maybe) and strong for my size, needed something to do at 2am and didn't want to be skinny anymore.  I found more than that.  I found mental clarity when life sucked, a way to relieve stress, someplace to go to to think.  In those days I hauled around a big ass walkman and mix tapes, today it's an iPod.  What has stayed the same is the gym is where I go to be alone with the metal - the kind you lift and the kind you listen to.

Most resolutioners don't have a reason, an internal drive, to change their habits.  They have peer pressure via advertising and other resolutioners.   They don't know why they need to get on the treadmill or give up carbs but they know "everyone is doing it" and "its healthy".  This lasts a month.  Maybe.   They sign up for boot camp, 5 days a week for six weeks at 6 am despite never working out a day or getting up before 7am.  They go a few times and quit.

I have never met a resolutioner with a plan, specific goals they want to achieve,  personal reasons why they are doing this.  They don't think about what is right for them.  If you don't like 5am, early morning bootcamps aren't going to get it done.  If you are like guidance, wandering lost at a big box gym is a bad idea.   If all your meals revolve around bread, pasta and rice perhaps going zero carb is not the best plan for success.  All they seem to know is that they must do something and that it must start on January 1.   The weight loss / fitness industry takes complete advantage of this and appreciates your paying for 12 months of membership after using only 1.

Most people I know already have some sort of workout / nutrition plan they like.  We talk about more serious things like Cube vs. Smolov.   But I can think of at least a dozen people that will ask me how to get started in the next week - what should they do, what should they eat.   They are all getting the same answer - come back to me when you have a list of reasons why you are making these changes.  Then we can talk about a plan.

Except one.  He gets this.  Everyone should know who this guy is ;)

Why Does Everyone Need A Label?

I don't get labels at all.   I never have and I never will.   I don't fit in a pretty little box that you can stick a tag on.  I didn't when I was a preschooler climbing trees in my fancy dress and patent leather shoes.   I didn't in high school sitting in honors classes with the Slayer logo meticulously sewn on the back of my jean jacket.   And I don't now in my athletic endeavors.

I like to go to the gym, lift heavy things and get stronger.  I'm not a powerlifter, a figure girl, a CrossFitter or anything else.   I've trained like a powerlifter.  I've competed in figure.  I've done CrossFit.  I've pole danced.  I've done a lot of things and not a single one of them define who I am.

At least once a week someone tries to fit me into a box - What are you training for?  What are you dieting for?   What's your goal?    Usually following up with why what I say can't be done.  I can't get stronger and leaner at the same time?   Says who?


So what am I?  Workout wise, this sums it up -

I love Jim Wendler - his program and his ass kicking posts.

I have some unfinished business with a sparkly almost thong, horrid smelling spray and clear heels.  But that diet thing, yea, I don't know about that diet thing.  Or giving up Wendler for a few months.  Not so sure about that either.  That business could stay unfinished for awhile.

I still want to learn cool pole tricks.  One day I will.  I should probably work some stretching into my workouts.  Like now.  Plywood like bodies cannot do the splits.  So yea, that could be awhile too.    And yes, I am linking pole dancing in with athletic endeavors - watch this before your argue with me:

Right now my athletic world involves a loaded barbell, blaring metal and eating a shit ton of food.   I am going to start reigning in that food and to start to lean out.  And by reigning in I don't mean eating less, I mean timing my meals better and watching macros closer.   And there is that pesky Training Rule of Being Awesome #5, something about being out of shape meaning you do conditioning every day.   I need to get on that too.

Observation From the Office

Something clicked earlier.   Those people at work that put food into categories - you know, good and bad?  They look like shit.  And are weak.  With no endurance.  I realize I am not the fittest person on this planet, I'm not even as fit as I was two years ago.  But at least I am not delusional when it comes to food.  I know what makes me leaner and what makes me fatter, what gives me energy and what makes my fingers turn into fat little sausages.   But good and bad?  These people are crazy.

An example - today I learned cheeseburgers are a bad food.   Really?  Beef is protein that comes from cows.   Cheese is fat that comes from cows.   Cows once walked.  That makes them edible.    So what is good?  Lean Cuisine.  Uh what?  So THIS is good?   Maltodextrin?  Medium Chain Triglycerides? Calcium Chloride?

WHAT IS THIS STUFF?  (clicky the red link)

I get that a cheeseburger has an extra 300 or so calories but at least I know where it came from.  I can pronounce all the ingredients.  It fills me up.  It tastes good.   That shit?  In a box?  That smells like a chem lab in the microwave?  How is that "good"?  I'm pretty sure in chemistry class we weren't supposed to taste the shit in the beakers.   

I also have observed that "good" foods don't fill you up.  My current go to meal is protein pancakes - 1/3 c ground oats, 5 egg whites, some cocoa, protein powder - roughly 400 calories worth of healthy foods that makes a mountain of pancakes.  That people make fun of.  But really, I am not the one eating my "good" food then walking around looking for cookies or brownies or pretzels in 45 minutes.  I eat that and don't want to see food for hours after shoving down the last 10 bites because I am already ridiculously full.  

Oh, and these crazy people?  They are the same ones that won't try the protein brownies.  Or pumpkin muffins.  Something about them not being food? 

Amazingly despite the pathetic amount of sleep, I have the energy to work out 5 days a week.  I'd actually work out more if I only had the time.  Those "good" food folks?  Not a one of them exercises.  They pay for boot camps and are too tired to get up.  Too tired blah blah blah..... Too tired to do anything but make excuses.  They whine every single day and do nothing to change anything.  I guess it isn't as easy as Weight Watchers, NutriSystem, Jenny Craig and Medifast made it out be be.

On the bright side, after today, I am pretty sure no one will ever engage me in a conversation about food again.... seems people were offended when I spouted off about chemicals being why they are cold in 78 degree offices.   Oops?

Topic BANNED!

I refuse to discuss diet and exercise anymore. I am done.  Over it.  I am tired of the same people asking me the same questions and giving me the same bullshit excuses over and over and over while not taking any of my advice.

So tell me again how you can't lose weight and have a nice ass?  Perhaps because you are a skinny fat mother fucker who needs to do squats and eat a cheeseburger because all the Lean Cuisine in the world is not going to fix that pancake ass?   Or that six pack you want to wow the ladies with on the beach?  How is that super grande double stuffed burrito making that happen?  And why do you keep talking to me about it?  Really.  Why?

My advice will never change.  And some people will never get a clue.   You want a banging booty, get some weight on your back and squat.  Then lunge.  Then deadlift. Then repeat.  Over and over and over.  Same goes for that jiggly ass shit hanging from your triceps.  Oh you can't lift because this hurts?  Or that hurts? Or you will look like a linebacker?  Or you don't have time? Or blah blah blah blah.  Really?  What the fuck is wrong with you?  Seriously.  I haven't lived a day without pain in almost 21 years and I lift.  Hell I been lifting for years and I don't look anything close to a linebacker.  I can't grow my back for shit and I try.   While eating cheeseburgers, not Lean Cuisine.  That shit don't just happen. Time?  Yea, about that.  No one has time.  They make the time.  Try turning off the TV for an hour, it will be amazing what you can get done.   So admit the truth.  You don't want to.  Say it.  I do not want to change a damn thing about how I look.  I just want to whine.  Admit it.  Accept it.  And then shut up.

You want to lose 20 pounds (and actually have them to lose) then why the fuck are you eating three slices of pizza for lunch?   Because its better than four?  Please.  My 1/2 pound of salad greens topped with chicken breast, fruit, nuts and a sprinkling of cheese has 50% the calories, 300% the volume and nutrition.   You don't like vegetables and want carbs?  Protein is bad for you?  You are an idiot.    Cooking is too hard?  No time for that either?  Fine.  Eat the pizza or the frozen box of chemicals.    But again - say it.  I do not want to change a damn thing about how I look.  I just want to whine.  Admit it.  Accept it.  And then shut up.  For real.  Now.

Is this truly the fate of us that work out, eat decent and have educated conversations with our own kind on whether a hook grip or split grip is best in the presence of lazy people?   I do this to look hot naked,  not give people another way to piss me off.


                                          

How is this different?

"Fit is the new skinny"

"Strong is the new skinny"

How the fuck is this different?  I don't see the amazing new motivation that some women do.  I see another way to be judged on what I look like, not on what I do.  The sayings are often printed on pictures of lean, somewhat muscular women.  You know, another body type to be compared to.

This is no different than the Victorian Era and restrictive corsets to achieve the tiniest waist possible.   The 1920's and the flappers binding their chests to achieve a washboard look.  The 1950's and the return to the hourglass figure perfectly coifed hair.  The 1960's with its Twiggy thin ideal.  The 1990's  D cups and no body fat.

So how is this different again?  I hate to burst the bubble of the believers but it isn't.  You may be striving for a different physical ideal but you are still allowing yourself to be judged on your appearance not on your accomplishments.

I get that things like "She does 30 unbroken pull-ups, do you?" isn't as catchy but isn't an accomplishment better to brag out?  Fit?  Strong? Prove it.  Tell me what you can do.  How fast can you run?  How much can you lift?  What is your sport?  Your skill?  Because the fact you look cute in a picture doesn't tell me shit.  It shows me that as a women I am still being held to a physical standard.  Nothing else.

Let's take this one step further.  What have these women done?  Are they scholars?  Innovators?  Artists?  Musicians?  Humanitarians? What have they contributed to society?  Not everyone is an athlete.  Not everyone will look like some standard.  And no standard is any better than its predecessor.

Clarity comes from strange places

My moment of clarity came not too long after I woke up this morning and I saw a video my friend Lisa posted.  A supposed "female fitness motivation" video.  My response was swift and violent.  With the exception of DLB, every woman in it appeared to be trying out for a staring role in a low budget porn.  Fuck that shit.  That is not at all what I am into.  Working out in a Victoria's Secret add two size bra?  Even in a photo shoot scenario that is just bullshit.   Thanks but no.   I'll click on over to Lift Big Eat Big and check out women that move more weight than I do.  Now that is motivating.  Someone who weighs ten pounds more than I and squats double?  Now you have my attention.  I want to do THAT.

Maybe it was just the video.  Or the video and all my introspection leading up to last night's blog.  Or some epiphany that happened laying in bed until 10:30 am because Squishy was using me as a pillow and I couldn't disrupt his beauty sleep.  But no matter what it was, I know what I need to do.  And that is focus on training and being strong.  Sure, the random pictures of "fitness models" that I come across will be my nemesis on occasion like the waif fashion models are for so many but I can accept that.

The concept of diet is being replaced with the concept of nutrition.  What do I need to eat to support my training goals?  I know the foods my body reacts poorly to - pasta, bread, anything starchy, sugar, fruit.  Which leaves protein, fat and that weird green shit that people seem to like.  Simple enough right?  Keep the portions in line and I can easily drop that 10 pounds in a few weeks with the workouts I have been doing.  

Right now I have a three day plan which I am loving and will stick with until my Vegas trip at the end of March.  Then I will switch to a four day plan that I have ready to go.  Either way I have flexibility on lifting days - a few in a row, every other, rest day can go anywhere it is needed.  Logical and easy.  

Today I also realized my bench and overhead press are back to where they were pre-shoulder injury.  My bench is actually better as I can push out more sets/reps at the same weight.  Now the real work begins - the slow and steady to far bigger numbers.  As long as each workout gets me another rep or 5 more pounds I will be satisfied.  

I haven't been this at peace and excited to train again in awhile.  Too bad tomorrow is a rest day.

To My Previous Trainers....

Thank you.

I've worked with a few people over the past five years and not one I regret.  Each taught me something different, a lesson to take forth in my fitness journey.  I've been spending a lot of time these last few months trying to find my way - what is the right approach?  the right goal?  what really matters? do I want to compete in any way?  or is stress relief the purpose?  And most importantly, does it make me happy?

Sully taught about about dealing with my imbalances, broken parts and the importance of mobility work.  He also introduced me to ART (active release therapy) which is at least 75% responsible for keeping my parts working when they don't want to.   Every time something acts up I go back to these basics.  Of course the actual movements have changed over the years has things have healed, imbalances have gotten better and new injuries have happened but these basics keep me lifting.

Tres had a tough job - getting my diet resistant ass in a blinged out bikini on a stage.  As someone hat didn't crack 100 pounds to my mid 20's diet was not something I was familiar with.  Neither was the early 30's weight gain but that is for later in the blog.   I learned how my body reacted to diet changes.  I learned just as much about lifting - intensity, ordering exercises, selecting exercises and pushing myself in different ways.  I now know that if I lift less weight or hit few reps, it doesn't mean the world is ending, it was just a day and move on.

LA made me think.   I never put any thought into how everything impacts everything else - life, work, workouts, nutrition, etc.  Whether we want to admit it or not, everyone lets one thing effect the other.  I always thought/wanted to compartmentalize and was forced to realize I didn't do a very good job.  Thinking about all facets of life in relation to each other wasn't easy at first but now I do it.  Sure I still have a shitty day and go shove a cheeseburger in my face but at least I see the relationship and accept it.  

Teena and Scott at Crossfit renewed my lost love for barbell work and handstands.  A funny combo I know but it is what it is.  My squat depth improved.  I started doing presses again and have no clue why I stopped.  I realized rowing is not a bad form of cardio.   I also realized that one of the biggest values of my workouts was they were my personal time and that the group setting is not for me.  I like my music and to just lift without worries about others or time constraints or running or burpees.  Barbell work is once again the foundation of every workout I do and always will be.

What I still don't know is what end result I am after.

I last competed in figure in August 2010 and did not like the way I looked.  I was skinny.  Scrawny even.  The exact look I spent so much of my life hating.  This time I dieted to get it as opposed to shoving in enough food for ten people and not being able to gain weight.  I stayed within 15 pounds of that for a year while trying to put on muscle then gained a good bit of weight in various forms in the fall 2011 and winter 2012.  Then I thought I would diet down to compete again.  I started the diet.  I made it a few weeks.  I cheated.  A lot.  I had a meltdown.  I ate a few burgers.  Drank a lot of wine.   I eventually said FUCK THIS and that is when I tried Crossfit.   After I realized that wasn't my thing I went into mass gain mode.  I lifted and ate and lifted and ate and lifted and ate.  I did nothing that looked like cardio.  I fought a shoulder injury.  I pushed.  I spent a fortune on ART.  I grew.  Guys I haven't seen in months notice and comment about my back being bigger.  I am finally not scrawny, not skinny, I have a lot of hard fought for muscle mass.  I love working out again.

Part of me is ok with the extra fat this process put on.  Dressed properly all anyone notices is my ghetto booty and boobs anyway.  Who cares if my stomach is flat?   But I also realize I am pushing what I feel is acceptable appearance wise.  Another part of me wants to lean out - see the true results of all this hard work.  But then I diet for a week, look down at my arm at the wrong angle and freak the fuck out because it looks scrawny.  It's not.  Trust me.  But that panic is still there.  I'm not even thinking about stepping on stage at this point.  Just leaning out.  Maybe 20 pounds?  Maybe less?  Maybe more?   Just get the stomach close to flat.  Shoot for this look I have in my mind that isn't really quantifiable.  Lean out, build up again a little smarter this time.   Then life happens.  Like this week.  The perfect storm of drama, bullshit and frustration ending with my last 3 meals being fried chicken, cheeseburgers and chinese food.  There is a beer next to me.

Somehow I need to get myself to buy in to leaning out.  It isn't so bad.  Losing 10 pounds won't kill me or make me skinny.   I should be able to do that.  Then take it 5 pounds at a time.   Mentally I think I have a number in my mind of a happy place - the proverbial middle ground between stage weight and where I am.   Bikini ready.  Muscles intact.  Now to get the brain on board.   Easier said than done.

The problem with blogging....

In order to blog, one must be able to type.  In order to type, one needs two functioning hands.  Ok, well you can type with 3 fingers and a thumb on the other hand as I recently have witnessed at work but really, that shit ain't efficient.  After spraining my wrist just over two weeks ago.  I couldn't type.  So no blogging.  I even took just over a week off from the gym.  It sucked.

I lifted Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday this week - easing back in slow to not piss my wrist off.  I was pretty successful until Thursday when I couldn't deadlift after squatting pissed it off.  I guess I should have thought of that whole bending back thing before I started and thrown someone off a leg press.

The week was pretty uneventful.  Sunday I lifted at 6:30 am after getting up at 4:15 am to go to the airport.  That was not cool.  The empty gym was awesome but I didn't even have the energy at that time in the morning to ask the other dude lifting why he had to be on the rack next to me, why not leave an empty rack in the middle or why he couldn't stop staring.  In reality I should have snapped on him but yea, it was 6:30 am and I was lucky to be upright and able to add the plates up.

Tuesday I went to the Y.  I do not like lifting there but I wanted to get it over with early and didn't want to deal with the crowds.  The vibe there sucks.  There was only one other person really lifting and I know this because I had to keep snapping at the same dude to re-rack his weight.   But the really annoying part was the jackassery exhibited by the women in the place.  Ladies, doing 4 variations of leg lifts and donkey kicks for an hour will not fix your flat ass.  I don't care what magazine you read it in.  You look stupid and sound stupider having this conversation loud enough the whole room can hear it.   The Y is staying on emergency use only status.

Thursday was a kind of surreal day at the gym.  I get there on the early side and 2 of the 4 racks are open.  The other two are being used properly.   I was happy to have a rack, in the corner, far away from the soon to happen stampede of zumba women trying to get an inner thigh machine or sit-up machine.   And there is a big ass bowl of chalk.  Yes chalk.  That shit that could have helped me not sprain my wrist.  Same shit I get yelled at for bringing in.  Interesting.  It was actually a nice change of pace to have people that knew what they were doing around me for once.

I also started dieting this week which apparently has coincided with Girl Scout Cookie Season.   Nothing good can come of this.  Every store I went to today had the sugar crack out front.  Thin Mints by the case.   So yummy.  So good with coffee.  So not happening on a low carb diet.   They ask and ask and ask.  I'm not buying.  Anyway, I already have a dealer.  I need supplies for my refeed.

Kelly made me!

Yep, Kelly made my ass go to the gym from 2,400 or so miles away.  Somehow she managed to guilt me into it because she needed a blog post.  Fine.  Here's your blog post.

Wanna know why I think staying home on my ass is a better idea?

I don't want to deal with people after work.  I use more than my daily allotment of indoor voice and public manners by noon.  The afternoons are somewhat sketchy and by the drive home I really wish I had that go-go-gadget arm coming out of the sunroof of my Jeep to move morons out of my way.   So what's the problem?  The problems are actually quite simple.

1.  My job bores me.  The highlight of my day is walking around the office checking thermostats because some selfish twat thinks the emails instructing us to leave them at 72 does not apply to her and therefore I find myself sweating in my seat.  Bullshit, I agree. But sadly, no one where I work gets fired for blatantly disregarding instructions so I go off, I change them back, repeat.  At least 3 times a day.

2.  Hills.   Uh?  What?  Yes.  I said hills.  You know, those things you go up and down while you are driving?  There are A LOT of them out here and they seem to be very confusing.  I get that the CA school system suck hairy balls but give me a break.   You press the gas to go up.  You let your foot off the gas (maybe) and go down.   Oh hell no that is too simple.  Its more like this: somehow your car magically gets to the top of the hell 30 mph under the speed limit then you stand on the brake all the way down.  Why?  I don't know why.   What I do know is my 14 mile commute takes at least 45 minutes.   When I work nights, I can do it in 20.  Without speeding.

So by the time I get home I want to sit on my couch with a bully and bottle of wine.  People can go to hell.  I like bullies better.

But I went.  And I knew when I walked in, I was gonna get more annoyed.  It was hot.  And crowded. I head off to the back corner to row.  And both t-bars are being used.  Sigh.  Every squat rack has a body in it.  One is being used, the other two I'll get to.   I toss 16 forty-five pounds off a leg press and warm up waiting to row.  About 5 minutes later, the guys walk way and I go row.  Then I finish rowing.  And I want to barbell row so I need a rack.  Now.  Problem is there are two douche bags of the non-Marine variety talking like junior high girls and did one set of super fast shrugs this whole time in the other two racks.

The following conversation then takes place:

Me: Are one of you almost done, I'd like to use the rack?
DB 1: Do we look done?
Me: Well, it looks like all you are doing is running your mouth.

I then clean DB 2's ridiculous 70 pounds and drop it on DB 1's rack then grabbed an empty bar. Sadly all that drama was for naught as my shoulder didn't really want to stay retracted so I could row.   I did a few reps and walked off.  Douche bags were still hanging in the rack when I left 45 minutes later.

I then got to strip weight off of every single machine I wanted to use.  I make very pretty piles on the floor because I sure as fuck ain't re-racking weights all night.  It was an otherwise uneventful evening.  No particularly goofy looking people.  No fools needing a bench to work jerk off muscles.   Nothing really.

Oh, except that jackass that started doing kipping pull ups in the cage I was rowing in.  Thinking next time I should yank his sweats off, you know, to get his attention and tell him I will beat his ass if he kicks me.

Paige Fieldhouse - gym or comedy club?

It's been a while since I blogged on a regular basis - the CrossFit Chronicles to be exact and that ended like six months ago.  I miss writing and now that I'm lifting on base again, there is way too much hilarity to keep it all to myself.

After CrossFit I went back to lifting on base for awhile but thought I wanted to go lift straight from work.  Thought being the key word.   So I joined the Y.  It's on my way home, never was busy at 4:15 and it worked just fine for awhile.  But it wasn't motivating.   Teenagers annoy me.  Cardio bunnies annoy me.  Sitting around on equipment jabber jawing annoys me.   And after dealing with all of that, plus a packed gym, plus old ladies curling 3 pounds at breakneck speed on every single bench and the dude with the 30 pound body bar in the squat rack, I snapped.  No more.  Fuck that.  The atmosphere didn't inspire me.  I leave work pissed off as it is, didn't need the added hassle.  Time to start lifting on base again.  Fine.  8pm workouts it is.

I went back Tuesday and instantly knew I made the right decision.  The dirty, rusty, smelly, testosterone filled mess is far more inspiring.  The place was packed but I was hitting back and knew the two t-bar set ups would be collecting dust in the back corner.  I headed that way after a few sets of high rows to warm up.  Empty as I suspected.  Knocked that out, giggled at some child doing quarter squats and it was time to go to the mosh pit - that is what every one calls the cable area right?  You know where the jackass tries to do kipping pull ups while there is someone doing cable cross overs and the 4 dudes cheer on the 1 dude swinging his whole body to curl?   It's not a pretty scene over there but I had pull downs and rows to do.  There are 2 cable row stations - one is occupied by 2 guys taking turns rowing, the other, 2 guys kneeling with 5 pound dumbbells.  Alright, I gotta watch this so I settle in to do pulldowns.  I get two sets done and realize they are doing wrist exercises.  Palm up wrist curls, palm down wrist curls, change arms.  REALLY?  You need a bench for that.  Wide grip pull downs done, close grip pull downs done.  Now I really need to row.  They gotta move.  As hand gestures didn't seem to appropriately express that they needed to take that shit elsewhere I was forced to remove one of the Beats and suggest they prepare to jerk off on another bench.  From the apparent level of muscle and malnourishment, I probably should have suggested cheeseburgers and dead lifts too.

Tonight a miracle happened.  Yes, a true miracle.  I was approached during my workout with a suggestion on how to do something better and did not flip the fuck out on the guy.  Since developing the external rotation issue with my left shoulder getting under a bar to squat has been impossible.  So I stopped trying for awhile to let it settle down.  I couldn't even high bar squat with much success but it is time to ease back into it.  So after destroying myself on the leg press to avoid any temptation of squatting a respectable weight, I set out to do my 3 sets of 10 empty bar squats.  Set 1 required a full rack and reset after almost falling on my face two reps in but then finished successfully.  That is when the guy in the next rack walked over and suggested lowering the bar for a better squat.  I smiled, explained the situation and then he commented in that case I was doing awesome and went back to his rack.  What saved his ass?  While leg pressing I had taken notice of his insanely perfect front squat form with a few hundred pounds on the bar.  Perfect form.  Ass to ankles.  This guy has a clue and needs to be remembered for future spotter potential.

The only major challenge of the evening was figuring out how to leave without busting out laughing while waddling like a duck as the exit was occupied by a cartoon character of a Marine.   CC first caught my attention when I was on the hamstring curl machine.  He's on the rehab style cable machine doing cable crossovers and looks HUGE.  Little head, huge chest and arms.  Like almost needs to go thru the door sideways huge.  Now, all I am seeing is the waist up.  Very important.  Because when I get to the leg extension machine I need to adjust the ankle pad.  As I am leaning forward I see the SMALLEST set of chicken calves I have ever seen.  I look up.  They are attached to the huge chest and arms.  WTF??  This guy has never and I mean NEVER done a single leg exercise in his life.  Its obvious he has tiny little quads.  The body did not go.  Nope.  Not at all.   Remember those create your own person coloring things we had as kids?  Take this head, that top half, that lower half.  Yea.  Just like that gone wrong.   I really don't know what to even say about that.  Other than he was clearly not the dick that left 16 plates on the leg press before I got to it.  (oh yea, those were thrown in a heap on each side, I don't rack some lazy asses weight)

I also learned if I ever want to use a stair mill, I gotta get on that shit before Zumba lets out and the frenzied run to get one happens - you all know sideways stepping on that builds a better ass than squatting right?

One long detour......

I've put a lot of thought into things lately - why I do what I do, why I lift, why I diet, why fitness is such a part of my life.   This week I realized I have been off course, distracted, sidetracked for quite some time.   When did I stop lifting for the love of it?   When did diet take over my life?  When did appearance start to trump performance?   When did being strong get so complicated?

I blame the Internet.   Prior to my move to NC in April of 2003 I had no time for the Internet.  I commuted.  I worked.  I worked out.  I had a social life.  I was busy all the time.   I actually went to the gym at 5am then because it was the only way I could fit it in.  Then I moved.  I had no job.  I had no commute.  I had nothing but time on my hands.   I drank beer.  I went to the beach.  I lifted.  I sat on my ass in front of the computer and read forums, articles, websites.  I learned about macros and diets and figure competitions and cardio and supplement and programming.  I had time to obsess over things.  I changed the way I ate.  I changed the way I trained.   And know what?  I am now fatter and weaker than I was back then.   The downside to education?  Over-thinking.

Sure I have met some great people on forums and I have learned some beneficial things.  But like most people I get easily distracted by shiny objects.   What type of programming to follow?  What about cardio?  How much to eat?  What to eat?   When to eat?  Years of people's lives are spent jumping from ideology to ideology looking for the magic combination.  I'm pretty sure I had it back when I started this long ass detour - I just didn't realize it.   I lifted heavy and ate a lot.   I weighed the same when I moved as I did when I competed in August 2010 but I was lifting three times as much.   And eating twice as much, at least I think I was.  I never worried about what I ate so it could have been five times as much.   I couldn't have had an intelligent conversation about macros or programming but did it really matter when I looked awesome and could do pull ups all day long?

I've given some thought to who I am willing to discuss training and nutrition with, what pages I have deleted on Facebook, what I read that inspires me, whom I think is bat shit crazy, etc.   And I've come to a conclusion.

For me, it is time to get back to the basics.  Barbells, dumbbells, meat and lots of them all.  Of course this great epiphany comes when I am fighting another reoccurring shoulder injury and a carrying a lot more fat than I need to be.  But I'm ok with that.  I have a plan.  The next month (more, or less) I will be straightening out my diet - too much low quality crap has snuck in and that won't work when I go back to training heavy.   So smaller portions of all the good stuff - steak, potatoes, protein pancakes of all types with some nasty fish and veggies just because I should.   As for training, I'm going to take this time to work on form and identifying exactly what makes the broken parts act up, correcting a few imbalances as well as ankle and hip mobility which is a constant battle.  I've got some thoughts on what I am going to do once this injury problem subsides.  Starting with getting a lot stronger.

Why Can't I Say That?

Today at work, one of the guys made a statement "I am in the best shape of my life."   I didn't really hear the rest of the conversation - something about how he didn't need some 700 calorie drink from Starbucks when black coffee does the job just fine, he's busted his ass and not screwing it up.

Now I see this guy almost every day and have for the last nine months.  The other day I noticed he looked more muscular.  We talk about training a good bit, I know strength and conditioning have been two goals of his.  It seems he has been successful - think about it, in an office setting, when someone starts off in good shape, a very noticeable difference says something - that he has been putting in the work and it has paid off.

This got me to thinking - why can't I say that?  Now I can give the typical list of excuses that people have but that has never been my thing.  If I am not eating right and killing my workouts the reason is always the same - it doesn't matter enough to me.  And it hasn't for quite awhile now.  I'm also not sure how I would define "the best shape of my life" at this point.  

I've been leaner, stronger, had better cardiovascular conditioning.  Right now I think I can say I have more muscle than ever before and that I love.  I also know the thought of losing any muscle or getting skinny by dieting is a huge mental block for me that sends me diving into a pizza.  Standard diet rebellion?  Hell yes.  But it happens.  I refuse to be skinny.  Refuse.  Getting back to the level of strength I once had?  I'd like to say I will do it one day but the reality is I probably won't.   My left forearm has a pretty strong opinion about how much I bench and deadlift, sadly it keeps winning.   Of course people piss me off by telling me I am strong but no, I'm not.  Compared to others, sure, fine, I am.  Compared to my standards?  Nope.  Not at all.   With the right toys I would be more motivated to work on my conditioning because the thought of running and burpees to do it makes me go for another beer.  But I don't have access to fun things like tires and prowlers.  And if I am going to make my lungs burn, it needs to be fun.  I'm a huge supporter of not using your spare time to do things you hate.

What it comes down to is that I don't have a goal, a plan, no clue what it is a I trying to achieve right now.  I have good workouts or no workouts.  I have solid nutrition or shit nutrition.   I am not consistent.  One day I want more muscle.  The next to get leaner.  I mourn my inability to do certain things.   I accept that I am the only thing stopping me from stating "I am in the best shape of my life."  I accept this.  I don't have much planned for this weekend so I am going to take some time to ponder what I want to achieve and how to get there.  I need a plan.  

What's wrong with the rear view mirror?

Don't look back - a common theme on Facebook these days.   Pictures, posts, quotes all saying to never look in the rear view mirror, ignore the past, its gone.  While that's true - you can't go back, nothing can be undone - there is a lot to be learned from what's behind you.  The past is a great teacher - the holder of hopes and dreams, things you swore you would never do, the person you intended to be.

You hate your job?  Every day?  You would prefer to be hit by a falling asteroid than go back?  Time to look back and remember when you liked going to work.  Think about the work you wanted to do way back when or what you want to do now.  Then leave.  I realize that is easier said than done - over priced college degrees, a bad economy, obligations in life - you know the things that prevent all of us in the wrong place from walking in Monday morning and quitting?   They aren't going away.   But there comes a time you need to make the leap.  It won't be easy, but it will be worth it.   30 more years of your soul dying in a place you hate won't be easy either.  Make the plan.  Take the leap.

To all of you that complain about your diets, your workouts, your cardio, how it interferes with your life, how you have no life, why do you do it?   If you hate whatever it is you do that much, why keep going?   To keep friends?  Make someone else happy?   Don't tell me it is for yourself, I don't drink Kool Aid or buy bullshit.   Because its not.  If you were doing it for you, there would not be all this bitching.   If you loved it, you would embrace the entire experience, not just the pleasant parts.  Take a look back - why did you start?  And should you really keep going?

Think about your "friends" and how they got there.  Social media is a life sucker - so many people shoving their way into your day that without it would never have gotten a second of your time.  What does each and every person add to your life?  Positive energy?  Encouragement?  Friendly debate?  Or drama?  I've always kept my circle small and somehow it grew - easy enough to shrink it back to those that I value - hide/delete/block are amazing functions.  Too bad they can't be used in person.  This goes for other "influencers" too.   If the magazine/blog/tv show/website doesn't add quality to your life, get rid of it.  Constant stimulus isn't necessarily a good thing.   Remember all those studies about young girls and waif-like models?  They apply to anything and everything you surround yourself with.

The two scariest places to look are not the closet and under the bed but the past and into yourself.   No one sets out in life to be miserable - there was a time you were happy.  Everything has not always been wrong.   There are things you loved.  Bring them back.   I've done a lot of that looking lately as I have that job and wish for that asteroid.  No, I can't go back, listen to my gut and run from the offer.  I can't go back to 19 and major in what I loved versus what made sense (because other people said so, and yea, they were right, I'm pretty damn employable, if not happy in my field).  But there are things I can change.  I lift for the love of it again and amazingly my diet has fallen right in line.  Proper motivation = proper action.  I got followed around Kohl's by security today - seems my fauxhawk and Flag Nor Fail tank were very suspicious.  Yes, when I was done giggling over the memory of that happening 20 some years ago with my good friend from high school I put the not so undercover idiot right back in his place - but it did point out I was doing something right.  I no longer blended in.  I don't even know how that happened.  But it won't happen again.

My plane/pool reading for the trip to Florida?  Revolver, Psychology Today, Ironman and Vogue.   Exactly what it should be.

Why I Lift

Overkill - Old Wounds, New Scars

Tonight's workout had a theme song.  It came on during my first set of squats and completely fit after I spent the weekend in pain - residual damage from an accident 20 years ago.  It was also the best workout I have had in a years.   And I mean years - back to the days at Courthouse Bay at Camp Lejeune, before my elbow gave out, before figure competitions, before programming, before met con, before rehab, prehab and mobility, before I gave a fuck about anything other than moving weight.

Tonight the pain didn't matter.  Nothing did.  It was all about the weight - head down, music up, get it done.  Leg day.  Squats.  Lunges.  More squats.  Deads.  Repeat.  My legs shook.  Nausea set it.  My head pounded.   Nothing mattered but the weight.  Set after set, rep after rep.  It got done.

This is why I started lifting.  Not any of the other shit - not bling, diets, conditioning - nothing but the release that comes with zoning out and destroying a workout.

Finally, after all the times I have posted this, to remind myself, I actually did it:

"Somewhere behind the athlete you've become, the hours of practice, the coaches who push you, and the fans who cheer for you, is the little girl who fell in love with the sport and never looked back. Play for her."


I'm not looking back.  Watch out shoulders.  I'm coming after you tomorrow.

Twenty-two months is a long time!

Like forever.  Or it will feel that way if the last 6 months are any indication.  So what happens in 22 months?  I get to go back to the east coast.  I realize it could be longer because the USMC has a way of fucking up the best laid plans but I absolutely cannot think about that right now.  Cannot.

I've already got the trifecta of stress to deal with - too far from home, shitty job, cesspool rental house - and no ability to change any of them.  None.  Not a single thing I can do to unfuck any of it.   This has me pretty stressed out.  Considering I am a tightly wound, type A control freak when everything is going awesome, this is a problem.  This crap just snowballs - I get stressed, I get tense, my neck and traps turn into bricks.  Especially on that broken left side.  Then I have to modify by workout because nerves get entrapped and my elbow starts acting up.  My shoulder hurts.  That 5 hours of sleep a night I usually get just became 2.  Now I have an even worse attitude, I am too tired to chew my food and I don't give a fuck about anything.  Including going to the gym.  And when lunch time rolls around, screw chicken, bring on the pizza.  You know, cause I didn't eat my first 2 meals.  So somehow, I need to lower the stress level so I go to the gym and eat more chicken.

The only plan I can come up with is to break the time up - two month intervals and assign goals/tasks to each one.  Something to obsess over and keep me busy after work.  So I don't dwell on the fact this house is vile and isn't even close to something I would consider a home.  (And in case you are wondering, in CA you can win a lawsuit over the nutritional value of Nutella but you can't get out of a lease when your appliances don't work and windows don't open - just an FYI)

The first two months isn't really two months - it is now until I go on vacation in late September.  The goals for now are:

1. Stick to meal plan
2. Stick to workout plan
3. Find a way to compartmentalize work / home so I don't explode going from one bad situation to another.

The first two would be quite simple if it was not for the third goal.  That has been a huge issue since I got to CA in late January.  It is how I turned out at CrossFit - had I walked in the house after work, I would never leave to lift.  I'm back into my routine with lifting now but there are still days I struggle to get off my ass to go to the gym.  Once there, I have no problems.  But there are times I just want to sit.  And stare.  And wonder why it isn't 2014 yet.  My meals are better too.  Pretty much because there is NOTHING in the house or in my desk that isn't on my plan.  And my lunch buddy at work is traveling for 60 days.   The fact NFL training camps have started helps too - just don't think you are watching anything other than NFL Today in the lunch room at 1pm.  Because you aren't.  

I really don't know how I am tackling #3 yet.  This week I'm am going to drag Olie into the plan and take him for a walk every day as soon as I get home.  He needs to work on his fear of the big bad world  and maybe 20 minutes of fresh air will help me.  Then dinner.  Then the gym.  Then I can stare at the nasty walls and wonder why it isn't 2014.  

Why is it......

Every single time a woman tweaks something the first thing out of a man's mouth is something along the lines of "it must have been too heavy?"

Last week at work, I was stupid enough to help move some boxes and the first thing I hear is to watch my back.  Well, lifting/carrying 50 pounds or so ain't nothing - it was a few of the guys turning purple moving less than I was.  With a hand truck.  Next time I'll watch.  And giggle.  Because isn't giggling what girls are supposed to do?

Yesterday when I'm squatting some child wants to tell me I could squat more if I didn't go so deep.  Hmmmm.  Let me think about that.  I'm knocking off reps at 175 pounds and getting ass to calves every single time.  He has 225 on the bar and if I used so little leg drive on my push press I'd be hearing shit about it.  How about fuck you skinny boy?  Three inches of knee movement isn't a squat.  And you look stupid in that belt by the way.

I tweaked my shoulder squatting last night.  Yes.  You read that right.  I tweaked my shoulder squatting.  Only me.  I know.  NO the weight was NOT too heavy.  Yes, I know exactly how to rack a fucking bar.  I'm a klutz.  I run into things.  I often have unexplained bruises to prove it.  And that is what I did.  I ran right into the nice peg I should have rested the bar on.  Hard.  It sucked.   And I did 3 more sets after that.  Because I could.

Sure, I shouldn't still be hurting tonight after that.  But it was the LEFT shoulder.  And as we all know, the left side is the broken side.  Thank that asshole that rear ended me and caused the spinal fracture 19 years, 10.5 months ago.  Dumb random shit can cause a level of pain that just makes no sense unless you have lived it.  Like I do.  Every. Single. Day.  I don't know what it is like to spend a day without pain.  Sometimes it is dull.  Sometimes I consider amputating the offending part.  But I NEVER let it hold me back.  I may pause once and awhile like I did tonight but that was only because it was shoulder day.  I did a few handstand push ups, determined I will be just fine tomorrow so I might as well wait until I can kill the workout and took tonight off.  No meds.  No doctors.  No whining.

So why am I blogging about it?  That is sorta whining right?  I'd call it venting.  Please refer back to the first sentence.  Want to know how many times I have heard that today?  Too bad none of them will lift with me.  Pussies.

I'm over it.  I am over these dumbass boys and their pathetic egos.  There are women out there that can lift far more than you.  And I am not nearly as strong as I will be.  I will never be out worked.  Out gutted.  While you are running for Advil, I'm doing one more set.  Thanks for the motivation.  The fuel I need.  The days I fall into that West Coast depression I have something to fall back on.



To "not" understand or embrace the body's limitations from a physical or mental aspect is an injustice to the soul and its creator.  We must find a way to exploit our vulnerabilities.  We must find a way to dissect our weaknesses.  For how are we to know our true potential? - Mark Gingrich, Founder, HTFU

It's Not Therapy!

Shocking I know!   Food and shopping fix NOTHING.   If anything, they prove to be good ways to set yourself back in your goals but they never propel you forward.   A cheeseburger has no more magical feel better qualities than a piece of chicken and the 75th pair of shoes in your closet will not erase a shitty day.  Trust me on this one.  I have tried them both.  Over and over.  And they do not work.  However, they have brought things I do want to a standstill.

It kind of goes like this - I'm in the third state in three years and this one sucks the most.  Not that SC isn't a close second but the cost of living and distance from the people/places that I care about shoves this one to the front of the line.  I'm a northeast girl and have no nomadic dreams.  I don't need to be wandering around the country - I'd be perfectly content in the same place for decades.  As long as that place was somewhere along the 95 corridor between DC and Boston with a few exceptions.

But back to food, shopping and goals.  My goals are pretty simple.   I looked/felt better at 30 than 20 and plan on being better at 40 than 30.   I want to be able to retire at 50.   (That used to be 40 but thanks to the stock/housing/job market over the last decade 22 months just isn't practical.)  So what can I do about this?  It's not that complicated.  But it starts with food and shopping not being used as therapy.


Goal 1 - Looking better at 40 than 30

Good-bye cheeseburger, hello chicken.  Pretty self explanatory there.   It just has to happen.  My diet has tightened up the last two weeks and in some ways it is actually a relief to not worry about food anymore.  Eat the right meal at the right time and move on.  My workouts stepped up after a 3.5 month period of laziness and inconsistency when I started CrossFit and I am now hitting the gym hard again as well.  Mentally I am not all the way back in the game yet but I'm almost there.  Some days it is just harder than others to haul my ass to the gym in the first place.  Once I get a few sets into my workout I get into what I'm doing and kill it.

Leaning out (which the diet change is already causing) will help me look forward to the workouts more as I can see the mass I have put on over the last two years.  There is a lot there, I just haven't seen it yet.

Goal 2 - Ability to retire at 50

This goal is a little more complicated.  There are a lot more things out of my control - the stock/housing/job markets combined this whole moving over and over again nightmare.   I need to focus on the one thing I can control - where my cash goes.  This can tie in to Goal 1 as chicken at home is always cheaper than what I will eat out.   That is simple enough.

But then I see beautiful things like these YSL sandals:

I want them.  BAD.  Like bad enough to pay for shipping twice because the hippie commune state I live in won't allow real python to be shipped here.  The are fabulous and would look amazing on my feet.

Can I buy them?  Sure.  Will it do anything to help me retire in 11.75 years?  Hell no.  I need to drop that $800 into my destroyed forever home fund (thanks housing market!) not on hot ass sandals.  I sadly must leave them at Bergdorf and wear the sandals I just don't love anymore.  Yea, they are hot and all but they are NOT python which would look bad ass against my bronze tan.  But they also are here, paid for and I need to worry more about my forever home than strutting in my newest acquisition.  No more retail therapy.

I'm not gonna lie - this one is going to be a lot more difficult to adapt to than what I have to do to achieve Goal 1.   Changes in my body are quick and the visible rewards are there.   Like new stuff.   My forever home seems impossibly out of reach with no instant gratification at all.  I'm still thinking of some short term rewards for sticking with this goal - other than cheeseburgers or shoes.  Not only aren't they therapy, they aren't rewards.  Sucks doesn't it?

From One Cult to Another

The very small universe known as bodybuilders (the bodybuilder / fitness / figure / bikini / WPD / MPD types are all rolled into one for this purpose, deal with it) seem to have a lot of time to spend hating on another small universe known as CrossFit.  Maybe it is the hours most of them spend on the treadmill or the lack of social lives they have because they are too hungry and tired to do anything but troll the internet looking for shit to start.  Obviously this doesn't refer to everyone in the physique world, but the ones it does know who they are.

I find this to be anywhere between comical and pathetic depending on the day considering both disciplines are referred to by so many people outside of them as cults.  So let's compare:

Diet

Bodybuilders eat a pretty strict diet as do the dedicated CrossFitters.  What's even more comical is how close those diets are.   CrossFit is often associated with the Paleo diet - lean protein, vegetables, a little fat, a little fruit when not cutting weight.  Hmm.... where have I seen this before?  A standard prep diet perhaps?  Over and over and over.   Next is the Zone Diet also linked with CrossFit - prescribed portions of protein, carbohydrates and fat eaten five times a day.  Ok, so most bodybuilders eat 6-8 times a day but really, how different is it?  Next.

Coaches

Talk about the collision of two cults.  There are some really fucked up contest prep "gurus" out there - butt cream, corsets, three hours of cardio, 800 calorie diets and they see no problem when you are freezing your ass off in 100 degree heat with your hair falling out.  And if the next prep takes 4 hours of cardio and 600 calories?  Oh well, that is what you gotta do.  Metabolic damage anyone?  Now CF has its share of fucked up coaches too - anyone with access to YouTube can back that.   Yep, there are CF coaches out there that shouldn't be allowed to design there own workouts never mind lead a group of people that may or may not be in shape.  CF done wrong is dangerous and dumb people doing dumb things with dumb coaches are getting hurt.   Summary?  Both activities have shitty coaches and dumb ass participants.  Next.

The General Public

BB's and CF's looks funny.  The mainstream - the average soccer mom, yoga goer, weekend softball player, armchair quarterback, fat ass with a million excuses - they all think both groups have way too much muscle - you know, muscle you can see.  Eat food that wasn't obtained via a drive thru, cooked in a microwave or packaged up at a factory and you are crazy, a health nut, a cultist.  Sure, back in the 1970's there was some popular media that covered major bodybuilders alike Arnold and others of his era.  Now The CrossFit Games get some air time but I don't expect that to last forever.  Something else will come along and take its place.  Let's get real, ESPN considers poker to be a sport.  Non-mainstream athletes won't be there long.  You know, like music on MTV.  Can someone explain the difference again?

Society Overall

Different disciplines, different goals.  And in many ways, understandable to only those that participate.  The average person doesn't grasp the concept of standing on stage in 4 inches of fabric to be judged solely on how you look.  Isn't the whole think a lot like Toddlers & Tiaras for adults?  A whole day dedicated to triceps?  Delts?  Calves?  Really?  The average person also doesn't grasp olympic lifting, sprinting and powerlifting by themselves, let alone muddled up in a big mess called a WOD.  Golf they get.  Tennis they get.  A bunch of people of all shapes and sizes running backwards down the road cheering each other on they don't get.   Different work outs, different confusion for the average person.  End result?  Neither group will be accepted by society at large any time soon.

What makes me different from the shit talkers I refer to in the beginning?  I've done both so I know of what I speak.  I was never an elite figure competitor and I am not an awesome CrossFitter.  Neither define me as a person as they do for some many participants.  I have other friends that have done both - concurrently, one first than the other, switching back and forth - but the one thing I note of those that have done both?  None of them talk shit like the ones that haven't tried the other side.

What is that saying?  Something like until you have walked a mile in my shoes shut the fuck up?

Get A Grip Girl!

Life has sucked for awhile now - 92 days to be exact since the boys were loaded up and we started our journey west.  This has taken its toll on my mentally well being.  I'm even more bitchy than usual and yes, this is possible.   The cliff notes goes like this in no particular order:

1 - I do not like my job.  I quite probably do not like my entire line of work but that is a whole different problem.  All I know is I now have a mind numbing existence that depending on the day makes me hostile and/or depressed.  Bad shit.  Me at work:



2 - I live in a 3,000 square foot shit hole.  This has several problems - one it is too fucking big, like 2,000 square feet too fucking big.  The next problem is that it is a shit hole.  I have gone from having the best yard in the community to the worst.  The carpets look like the previous tenant was a serial killer.  The mechanical systems are just functional enough to pass code.  My high maintenance anal retentive clean freak self CANNOT handle this - 15 more months here have the potential to cause a complete mental break.

3 - The ocean is on the wrong fucking side.  Need I say more?




None of these problems are exactly easy to fix.  Now if I was a risk taker (which I'm not) I would load the dogs back up, drive back across the country and beg my grandparents to let me clean for food while I look for a job hoping there isn't too much of this happening



My best case right now is really to get to this on all the above issues





All of that said, it is causing mass havoc on the things that matter to me - like my training and physique.   While my training is ALMOST back on track, I need to be honest with myself and realize that my diet has been pretty fucked lately.  Not obvious like binging on a daily basis but sneaky like my hand going in the pretzel tub / M&M jar every time I walk by them at work.  And since they are at the only exit to the bathroom and I drink a pot of coffee plus almost a gallon of water at work................

The only thing left to do is




Easier said then done of course.  Most days I leave work like this



When I need to leave work like this




And no, this blog will not contain a solution - just a long commentary on the problems as it is very easy to say control what you can like your diet and your training but the reality is when life's spinning out of control sometimes even that is too much to ask.

Time to re-priortize and figure this out.

From This Day Forward........

Not a SINGLE fuck will be given.



Well, from yesterday forward to be exact.

I've come to the realization that despite making some really big decisions based on bullshit that was told to me, I let it take over way too much of my life. Ok, in my defense, my whole life was impacted and not in a positive way. But I'm over that now. Why?

It all started with what I was told was "crazy talk". Thursday night I was prepared to cancel my Disney trip in two weeks - I was THAT stressed out. So stressed I could not even imagine going to The Happiest Place on Earth. Are you kidding? I was going to miss breakfast with Eeyore?

Then I was trying to cheer up a friend that got some bad news after surgery - like needs to consider never lifting again kind of news. I was there this time 3 years ago and remember how much that sucks. And the life altering implications of such a decision. But hey, I healed and am stronger than I was before right? Yet I don't lift nearly as often as I should. Why is that?

Oh yea, stress. From giving a fuck.

Thursday was day 5 of less than two hours of non-consecutive sleep, throw in a couple push me over the edge moments Friday where I really thought I would give into the urge to punch someone in the face with a chair, I had to get a grip. Or at least stop giving a fuck. So I did.

The new me: