Kindness. And grace.

The first year CrossFit went with the whole Open/Regionals/Games format, we were pretty excited about the fancy digs we got to compete at in Vancouver.  We had an official stadium, warm up area and athlete village.  And in that athlete village, there was a guy who brought in one of those olde-tyme-y strongman games where you took a hammer and hit a plate and, if you hit it hard enough, you'd ring a bell.  Surprising loud noises and dystonia don't mix so well. 

Chantelle, upon seeing the impact the ringing of the bell was having on me, went and asked the guy to abandon his marketing strategy.  At first, he balked at her request but after their conversation, he put the thing away for the rest of the day and the next day it wasn't at his booth, anymore.  I didn't know she was going to do this.  She just took one look at me and saw that she might be able to help.  So she did and it made my experience there immeasurably better.

 And I think that says a lot about who she was as a person.

There are a lot of nice people in this world - genuinely nice.  Throughout her battle with cancer, her friends and family rallied about her with "Shine on".  I'm not sure where it came from but I think it describes her perfectly.  Chantelle was something more than genuinely nice. Whenever I have spent time with Chantelle, I was always left being reminded of just how kind she was.  And gracious.  She was gorgeous through and through and I think the outpouring of love and prayers today just goes to show how pretty much anyone who had the chance to know her is better for it.

All my love to Blair and the kids and her extended family.  And my love to Ang and the rest of her girls who have lost a best friend.

How about?

How about instead of "Strong is the New Skinny" or "Real Women Have Curves" or "Nothing Tastes as Good as This Feels" and especially "FuckYeahThighGap" or whatever bullshit demotivational crazy we're applying to ourselves to ensure none of us feel good about how we look.

How about "Awesome is as Awesome does"?  Then go out and do something fucking awesome.  That awesome fucking thing being your choice.

"I'm going to flip this 400lb tire."  Awesome!  You go do that.
"I'm going to write a play."  Awesome!  You go do that.
"I'm going to do yoga in the park while my kids decorate a tree with yarn."  Awesome! You go do that!
Run a marathon...
Finish my thesis...
Ride a bike with my child...
Nap like a boss...

Is doing awesome things dependent on looking like this?

Or this?

 or this?

  

Or whatever limited ideal of what it is we're supposed to look like at all times because that is what is most important in life is looking like a certain way? 

No, no it was not.

So, awesome is as awesome does. Go be fucking awesome today.

Mobility Work

Three things to add into my repertoire...

One of those posts where I post advice I've given that I, upon reflection, think is pretty good.

I belong to a message board for PCOS laydeez.  Kurt used to call it "the whiny board" likely because it featured a lot of really whiny people whining about things.  Cut them some slack - most of them are on infertility treatments.  HORROR-MONES!  You try and be all emotionally awesome when you've just come back from a D&C post chemical pregnancy and are subsisting on a 1200kcal a day, low fat diet and doing Walk-Away-The-Pounds.  Yeah, thought so!

Anyways, one of them the other day posted about getting really too into calorie counting and measuring and weighing and all that shitness that we're told we should do when we try to lose weight.  And she was totally melting down.  Which, yes.  I'd say that is a totally normal and healthy response to an activity that is crazy-making.

Here's what I posted in response.  I've read it a few times, and I think I actually came up with some pretty good advice.  I find advice-giving hard these days because I'm starting to forget what it was like to be obese and all the attendant fun that went with it.  So, I'm kinda all proud of myself that I was able to part the veil of time and actually suss out something that she'll hopefully find helpful and not just rant-y.

Here goes:

"I can't count calories. I lose my mind. I've never really been able to do it and I still can't. And I was still able to lose my weight and keep it off and even adjust my intake to meet very different demands. Most people can't really count calories for very long without it ending up getting a little weird. So, in that respect, you're normal.

What I had to do was reset my hormone signalling. What's really awesome (sarcasm alert!)?  Most of us with PCOS have f'd up satiety hormone signalling. Here's a few tips to get you started. I'm guessing it's going to take a lot of time for you to sort this out and it isn't something that an easy post can just fix for you. I just wanted you to know you're not alone.

You're not weird.

And your situation isn't hopeless.

Anyways, reaching way back into my memory, here's a few thing that helped me at the very beginning. Once I got these down, then I was able to further refine and figure things out.

1. Eat protein every time you eat. Preferably something that once had eyes and a soul or came from something that had eyes and a soul.
2. Eat vegetables every time you eat. Mmm vegetables. Corn, iceburg lettuce and peas are not veggies.
3. Eat starchy carbs. Root vegetables are preferable because they're packed with nutrients that are nicely bioavailable for you. But, eat them when your body needs them. And that's usually after you've worked out.
4. Eat when you are hungry. Hungry is not bored. Hungry is not sad. Hungry is hungry. And if you're hungry, eat!
5. Enjoy the hell out of your food. Don't eat anything that you really, legitimately don't like to eat just because it's "good for you". There's lots of food that's good for you that I'm sure you also enjoy. Eat those foods instead.
6. That said, food is not a party in Vegas. If it comes in a brightly coloured box or bag and has big shouty text on it screaming at you that it's food? Likely not food. Processed stuff does super fun things to your brain and body, making it hard to enjoy real food. And also making it really tricky for you to feel full or satieted. Try to pick food that you know is food even if it doesn't have a label on it.
7. Don't watch commercials on TV. For reals. This is huge.
8. If you struggle with mindless eating at a certain time of day, every day, choose that time to do your workout. It gives you something to do and it reprograms this behaviour. Then have a good, proper meal after (protein, veggies and a starchy carb).
9. When you're eating, just eat. Ten bucks says the vast majority of your meals are eaten in front of the computer or the TV. We need to register that we've eaten. And to do that, we need to just eat when we're eating.
10. Sleep. Go to bed at the same time every night. Get up at the same time every morning. If you're tired, go to bed early. Sounds weird, but sleep is the biggest thing you can do to regulate insulin.

Eating should be eating. It shouldn't be math. Hope some of these ideas or approaches help you a little bit. "

Every post should end with a smiley face.

Navel Gazing and Whatnot

“Some days, I was just wanting to say ‘fuck it,’ but other days I felt like it was saving me.”

Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. 

Earlier this week, the CrossFit Games site posted an interview with Angie Hay.  I thought it was really cool of her to talk about how going through a divorce has impacted her training and her priorities.  It's not something people really talk about.  Mostly because who wants to talk about going through a divorce.  I know, for me, I've not really been at my best physically, emotionally or spiritually over the past few years.  I've been bitchy, emotional and stressed.  I've done dumb ass shit.  I've not coped with grace or aplomb.  But who does?  IT'S A DIVORCE.  It's kind of a big deal.

And it all affects how well you do as an athlete and how you feel as a human being.  The stress, the lack of sleep, the less-than-ideal coping mechanisms people sometimes lean on (*cough* smoking *cough*)...  The lack of time, inability to focus and sheer levels of constant and ever present exhaustion.  And, most of all, feeling like an ass because you really believe you should be keeping your shit together far better than you perceive your shit to be in the middle of it all.

So, here I am in the middle of the end of the end of my marriage.  I'm no longer doing as much dumb ass shit as I was before.  I quit smoking four months ago.  I continue to be bitchy, emotional and stressed but far less so than before.  No, really.  This is less.  Trust.  And I'm not always exhausted.  So, yay?

The part that feels really, really good is the ability to set goals again.  And not because I'm a type A weirdo who needs goals - though that would be true.  Setting a goal means being able to look into the future and actually having enough of a sense of what said future will look like to actually be able to have an idea of what you want a piece of said future to look like.

I know, right!

A major part of being able to train with a purpose and getting the most out of your time and commitment to yourself as an athlete, is the ability to set goals for yourself.  And then having enough stability in your day to day life to be able to again work towards those goals in a purposeful way.  For me, divorce has meant that both the sense of my own future and my daily stability was missing for far too long.  And now that I have both of those back, I'm feeling far more confident in what I can commit to doing.

And that feels very, very good.

For Tyler

So he doesn't have to axe dechubbing off of his ever dwindling Sissy Hands blog roll.

Tonight, I kind of sucked at the gym and was cranky.  When describing my crankiness to Lexi, I may have used a different word to describe my mood.  It also starts with a "c" but is far more jaunty.  Apparently, it's normal to turn into a raging cow (also not the "c" world I used) immediately preceding a flare up of dystonia symptoms.  Considering it's been a dystonia-fest since January, I've been exceedingly super fun to be around.  This seems to be resolving itself with the help of a naturopath.  Huzzah!

Anyways, back to sucking.  I couldn't snatch 105lbs for doubles so dropped to 95lbs and even at that weight they were full snatches and not power like the WOD required.  By the 8 minute mark, they started to feel much better.  It's nice when the workout is almost done and my middle aged ass is finally ready to go. Then I ambled my way through the untimed workout, visiting during my last set of pistols, as I am not good at self-motivating unless there is some kind of possibility of winning involved.

Today also marks the beginning of my annual bitch fight with gravity.  You see, every year in the Open, an event with muscle ups is announced.  The Open is in March.  And I don't know about the one person who reads my blog (Tyler), but by the time March rolls around, I've got some quality winter chub going on.  I mean, it's not dire.   I can fit into my pants.  But everything I do is done in a 10lb home made weight vest.  That might not sound like a lot, but when you're violently flinging your now heavier self through space while dangling by two wooden rings hanging off the rafters, suddenly that 10lbs more of you means a lot.  Gravity gives not one shit that you still feel as though you look okay in your jeans.  Gravity is going to slap you and slap you hard.  Joints are going to get cranky.  Tendons are going to yell at you.  Rotator cuffs are going to go on strike. Muscle ups in March are a Herculean effort (if Hercules were to gain 10lbs and then have to do muscle ups).

So, each year I pretty much get all weird about getting my muscle up.  I fret about it.  I live off eggs, go super low carb and don't eat any salt.  There is a lot of wishing and praying to the water retention gods that they be kind and allow me to hit the magic number on the scale where all of a sudden, I can do a muscle up. I can already feel the weirdness setting in as I plot how to get at least 241 on this blasted WOD.