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?