Saturday, March 21, 2015

Running Away or Running To?

Another Saturday and I'm posting another thought that's been interrupting my sleep all week. You would think as much thinking as I need to do during my work day and as many workouts as I put in I'd sleep like a baby. HA! I sleep like a woman sharing a bed with a boxer bedhog and 2 feline bedhogs. Which really means I am often woken up by one or another of my furry menaces trying to push me out of their way. Did I mention the Boxer snores? She does, loudly. If you're thinking that I could refuse to let them sleep with me you'd be right, I could do that. The fact is I won't because I am a hopeless sucker for my animals.

There I go, off on another tangent. I suppose the silver lining to three bedhogs in my bed is I have lots of time to ponder thoughts that I wouldn't have time for during the day. So that brings us to this week's thought: Am I running away from something or running to something?

As recently as a month ago I would have told you I was running away. I was running away from being the "fat girl" and running away from things that made me uncomfortable or afraid. Great things were happening while I was running away, I'm not complaining. I was getting more fit and healthier and bit by tiny bit I was changing my mindset. The past is long over and done, I can't change it, end of story. No matter how many pounds or inches I lose history won't change.

Things changed this week. No there was not a moment when I had some huge breakthrough and everything became clear to me. This isn't Hollywood and my life isn't a movie. Good thing too, I'd fire my hair person...the mop is totally out of control most days. There may not have been some huge lightning strike with angels singing, but as the week progressed and I looked back and reflected on the things I had done I saw a difference. More importantly I felt different.

Monday I spoke with a friend and made plans to return "home" for a workout. Up until that moment I wanted to go back to Fortitude Fitness Systems and train under Ben, but I didn't. All I could remember were OCR classes when I would drive home crying because I still felt like I'd lost something. Monday I realized that simply wasn't true, I didn't lose a thing I gained another man I can trust completely. I won. So I made the plans and I felt like a kid waiting for Christmas all week long. More on that in a bit.

Wednesday during Muscle Hour we were working on BB snatches. We started with the PVC pipes and when I tried one my shoulder hurt. Not the left one I tried to crush tumbling, but the right one. I thought about ignoring it and just muscling through, but I've been spoken to about that and I was honest: it hurt. So while I watched other people practice with the barbells I did overhead squats. Overhead squats are a weakness and I could have been whiny and done a few then sulked, but I didn't. When you're 44 it's seriously unbecoming to act like a two-year old who didn't get her way. I practiced those squats over and over and over. Someday I might actually be good at them.

Thursday was buddy-less Buddy Training day, aka personal training. I did some work to stretch out my shoulders and then I got a core circuit. Have I mentioned that I am not a big fan of core work? Yes I understand that it will help me in so many ways, but we've established I am worse than a little kid in a lot of ways and I don't want to do what is hard for me. Luckily I am also a good little teacher's pet and Tyler told me to do it, so I was going to do it.

I found that it was hard, that it hurt, that I wanted to quit, but I didn't. It helped A LOT that I had Tyler close by reminding me it was temporary and to fight through it, but the push to finish what I started had to come from me. I could have quit, when I got to the 90 second plank at the end I was pretty sure I was going to quit. I hung on for 30 second intervals and eventually it ended. I was well rewarded for the core work: I got to deadlift the tractor tire and then use it for some farmer carries. Happy times...wish I'd thought to ask for some pictures or video of that. Next time.

Friday I went "home". No, Lyndonville is not home, but I went back to Fortitude Fitness Systems where it all started. I got to train under Ben again. It was familiar and I loved it. There were no moments when it was painful or hard to be there. I felt comfortable and welcome. I realized again how thankful I was for the solid foundation I was given. I took what I learned and applied it, but someone had to take the time to work through the walls and the defenses to be able to teach me. Last night I hope he saw the fruits of all his hard work.

I'm not done, not by a long shot. I'm trying out my wings and soaring under someone new. He didn't have an easy job with me at the start either. I put the walls up and stood behind them following directions and doing my best, but not completely trusting the process. It took time, but I came around. Thanks for your patience with me Tyler.

This morning I completed Saturday Morning Sweat. My eighth workout for the week. I feel good about the hang tucks I did and my box jumps. Maybe I only did two or three box jumps per round, but they were good jumps. I landed as lightly as I could and stuck my landing. I won't be the fastest box jumper around, but I'm determined to do them well.

I'm not running away from the hard stuff anymore. I might not be eagerly running to things that are hard, but I get there, gather my courage and do what I set out to do. The negative voices of the past are fading out. I have moments where the past crashes in, but it's only a moment, I can brace myself and come out just fine on the other side. I always could, I just didn't believe it.

I'll be 45 next week and I can't wait. Some things get better with age: I'm one of them. Just watch me!

Thanks for reading!

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Be What You Are

I first encountered this phrase on a mini bumper sticker I had to buy. I don't know why at that moment in time it was so important to me to have it, but it was. It was before I started this journey, but I wonder if that was the day I finally decided it was time to live life and stop hiding.

For a long time that phrase bothered me. I always felt it should say "Be Who You Are". I've been pondering it a lot this week and I think it said exactly the right thing. That little rectangle of black with white lettering has taken up a great deal of space in my thoughts so it's time for me to dump all of the thoughts here and hope I make sense.

What am I?

I'm not sure that answer is much different than describing who I am. I am a daughter, friend, sister, aunt, teacher, pet mama, Tough Mudder, student and a dozen other things that escape me at the moment. What if the answer to the question goes deeper than that?

What am I beneath the surface labels?

I am an introvert. I like people, I have friends, but I am never truly comfortable in big groups. I prefer small groups of people I know well who understand and accept I won't be the nonstop talker. I admire people who are outgoing and draw energy from those around them, but that is not who I am. I can start and carry on conversations, but I truly prefer to listen. Or write. Sit me down with paper or in front of a computer and the words pour out. What I lack in conversational skills I make up for in my writing ability. Apparently I have a well-developed ego too.

I am determined. I did the college right after high school thing and discovered it wasn't for me, so I left and went to work. I worked at a number of different retail jobs before I decided that was NOT going to be the rest of my life. There is nothing wrong with that work, but I was not good at it. I didn't believe the customer was always right and I was not a good enough actress to pretend I did. I became a paraprofessional working with a multiply handicapped student. It was the hardest, and at times, the most frustrating thing I had ever done and I loved it. I went back to college and put myself through the elementary education/special education program at Lyndon State College. My heart is in special education and since my graduation I have been a special educator.

I am cautious. I'm not a fan of putting myself in situations I can't plan from start to finish. Quite the statement from a person who has signed up for her third Tough Mudder. I still remember how I felt after my first one. I was exhausted, sore, crying on the shoulder of anyone who would stand still long enough and under it all I knew I was doing another one. Who knew someone who likes plans and consistency could be an adrenaline junkie too?

I am definitely judgmental. Especially with myself. I want perfection. I can say it's about progress, not perfection and I absolutely mean it for other people, but I don't apply that to myself. If I can't do something as well as I think I should I am deeply disappointed. I'm getting better. I have accepted that the person others see when they look at me is never the person I am going to see and it's okay. I'd like to see the woman others see, but I'm content that I can look at the person in the mirror and not cringe.

I am a work in progress. Sometimes I'm just a hot mess, but usually I am a work in progress. Two steps forward and one step back, but still a work in progress.

I forgive hurts. It takes time, sometimes a long time, but everyone deserves forgiveness, yes EVERYONE. Forgiving someone doesn't mean forgetting the hurt, in some cases forgetting would be impossible. Forgiving to me means I am taking control, I am deciding the situation or that moment in time no longer defines who I am or what I am. It will forever be part of my history, but it is NOT part of my future or my present.

I am strong, physically and emotionally. Did you know strong people sometimes cry? Did you know when you cry and other people see you the world doesn't end? I KNOW-right? Okay, so maybe that wasn't a revelation to anyone else, but it's been a game changer for me. Not that I burst into tears at the drop of a hat, but there have been a few times recently when the tears have come and I haven't bolted...oddly enough the people around me when the tears came didn't bolt either. Don't worry, I am not going to become one of those people who cries at everything and tries to use tears to manipulate. My stepfather used to tell me that tears washed away negative feelings and stress. I admit I thought he was nuts, but he did have a point.

What I am most of all is a woman on a journey. There are peaks and valleys, sometimes in the same day. There are days I'm sure I lost the map and times I know there isn't a map at all and I'm making this up as I go. Whatever the case may be I am surrounded by amazing, inspiring, strong people.

Thanks for reading!

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Competition

I didn't think I was that competitive, I was fooling myself. I may well be flexible, giving and caring, but give me the proper circumstances and my competitive side rises. I don't think there's anything wrong with being competitive, it's not like I start trash talking people or being a nasty jerk.

So what brought out my competitive side this week? Muscle Hour at Pride Fitness Performance in part. I LOVE that class. I want to learn more about Olympic lifts and I want to work on my form. Let's face it: if it is heavy I must lift it or flip it. Tell me we're going to work on deadlifts and you have my attention and eager participation. That happened Wednesday evening. We worked on dumbbell snatches and the board also said deadlifts. Deadlifts? If I were my dog Abbey my ears would have stood at attention and I probably would have been doing her whole body wiggle. Thankfully for the rest of the class and the instructor I am not able to behave like an over-excited Boxer. If I have given you any mental images you could have lived without I am deeply sorry.

We practiced our snatches first. The snatch part I'm not so bad at, the squat part...UGH! Overhead squats are such a weakness, but this post isn't about that. I could write a million entries on my weaknesses. Today it's competition. So back on track...

While we were still working on snatches Tyler had us come into the Weight Cave to try our deadlifts. Yes, I almost skipped in when it was my turn. My first lift was 225 pounds for 5 reps. I'll be honest, that felt heavy and I considered calling it right there and just going back to the snatches and working on my overhead squat. I decided against it, because really 225 wasn't that heavy and I wanted to see if I could lift 315 pounds again. That was my personal record (PR) for a deadlift until Wednesday evening.

My next set of deadlifts was 275 I think, then 295. Then my PR came up 315 pounds. I noticed Tyler stuck around for that set of deadlifts, For the others he was watching me, but also coaching others in the class. I lifted 315 pounds and it didn't feel any heavier than the 225 had, I really need to ponder that more. That made me feel GREAT. I remember the first time I ever deadlifted 315 pounds with Ben, it was the heaviest thing I could ever imagine lifting and it was HARD. Super hard, my bladder might have let go a little in fact. Yes, yes, that was TMI, but it was honest.

I figured we would be done after that round of lifting, but Tyler said we would do one more round and he added 30 pounds to the bar. Yep, I was going to see if I could deadlift 345 pounds, I did do the math in my head a few times while I waited for my turn and tried to talk the little voice in my head into shutting up and not showing gruesome images of me ripping my arms out of their sockets when I tried to lift the bar. I was pretty sure nothing that dramatic would happen, but not positive.

Then it was my turn. It was about then that I finally noticed what Tyler had been doing in the Weight Cave with the marker. The deadlift board moved in there and had been empty up until that night. Now there were initials and numbers up there. Many under the "200 Club" heading and three under the "300 Club" heading. My initials and two other men with 315 pounds.

Hmmm...so much for not being competitive because there was no way in hell I was not going to lift that 345 pounds. Not that I need to be the best, not that I have anything against men, but I had to do it.

To shorten this up so you can get back to your day: I was able to successfully lift 345 pounds. So were the two other men. I was proud of my accomplishment for sure, and I was proud of everyone else. I remember the first time I got to deadlift and how empowering it was to lift more than I thought I could.

I rediscovered my competitive side on Wednesday, but I also discovered I don't need to be the center or the "best". I need to do the best I can do and not being as good as the person next to me or across the room from me is not losing. My biggest competition has always and will always live inside me, right between my ears as a matter of fact.

My competition likes to tell me I'm not good enough, or smart enough enough and is happy to point out that everyone else can do things I can't. I have her figured her out though, when I point out what I CAN do and DO do well there is silence.

I've said it before: I may never be the best or the fastest, I may not be the teacher's pet or the instructor's favorite. I will be consistent, I will give my best effort and I will offer my support and encouragement whenever I can. Life is too short to need to be better than everyone else. I want to be a strong support, not a shining star. That's my path and I accept it.

Thanks for reading! The next time I'm at my happy place (in less than 12 hours), I will take a picture of the deadlift board and post it.

So I need to learn how to center things before I take a picture, but you get the idea.

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Getting Older or Getting Better?

It's all a matter of perspective, right? We've all heard the saying "you are only as old as you feel". There are days that's an okay thing, then there are the days you feel your age + one hundred years.

I will be the first to say that I have NEVER been more fit in my life. I have plenty of energy, I hate to sit still for too long and most of the clothes in my closet are in a size I haven't worn since I was in elementary school. Possibly in junior high, but I'm pretty sure it was elementary school.

I would not trade a second of my life now to be younger. Maybe on those days I feel 144, but even then I appreciate all the work my body did to feel that sore. Ten years ago you wouldn't have been able to get me to do one sit up, never mind 5 rounds of crunch and reach, straight leg raises and twisting jackknife sit ups for 25 seconds each. Now I look at core circuits like that as a challenge and I do the best I can. Yes, the perfectionist just admitted that she does her BEST...and yes I will admit that my best does not mean it is perfect.

I might feel better than I ever have and probably look better than ever, but there are undeniable changes that come when you get older. I experienced my first last week. I've worn glasses since I was in eighth grade and as of last Friday I am now wearing glasses with progressive lenses. Woo hoo? They aren't so bad when I remember not to try to look down without moving my head. Let's just say for someone who has challenges with gravity walking down stairs with your new progressive lenses is an adventure. Thank god for hand rails, let's leave it at that.

Another change, or maybe this is only me, is that your credit score matters to you. I'm thinking this might just be a "me" thing. When I was younger and a lot dumber it didn't occur to me that being careful with money mattered and credit cards represented real money. When it finally did occur to me (about 7 years ago) I started the long process of clawing my way out of the financial black hole I'd created for myself. Hard work pays off, last Thursday I was approved to lease a 2015 Ford Fusion Titanium. I still walk in the garage and just stare in wonder for a few minutes. So Tyler, if I'm late to class, it isn't that I didn't get my lazy butt out of bed, it's that I wasted precious time just staring at a car. Hey, if anyone wants to try out the heated passenger seat let me know...I look for excuses to drive it so I'll take you for a ride.

I don't mind that at the end of March I will add another year to my age. I plan to make the next 45 years better than the first 45. I want to be stronger, faster and better during my 45th year than any other year to date. There is a 525 pound tire I have plans to flip again and again. I want to work on my back squat and get my lats loosened up so my front squats look and feel better. I want to see just how much weight Tyler can put on the prowler before I can't move it an inch and then I want to work until I can push it the length of the turf and back. I want to be a better friend, a better student, a better teacher, a better daughter and a better sister than ever before. I will be more positive and I won't quit even when I don't fully believe I can do what I set out to do. When I fail, because there will be times all my strength and stubbornness won't help, I want to do so with grace. I want to learn from my mistakes and use what I learn to come back and be better the next time.

My word for 2015 was perseverance. I need to remember persevering doesn't mean I will always be the best, it simply means I give my all and I don't stop striving to be more and be better.

Thanks for reading!

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Double Standards

My last blog post "Here We Go Again" earned many comments on my facebook page. All of them made me smile and feel thankful for the people who took the time to comment on what I poured out. One made me think and now five days later I'm still thinking about it. I don't think I've stopped thinking about it actually. It percolates away at the back of my mind, sometimes pushing to the front when the circumstances are right.

I won't repost her comment here, but the gist, or at least what I took from it, was "you are walking the walk, don't let your mind play games with you. Train it like you are training your body". She's a wise woman. I'm blessed to be surrounded by so many wise people.

I have a double standard. I think most of us do really. I know I demand perfection from myself, but I am quick to be forgiving and encouraging to my friends. If they feel they screwed up I do my best to point out what they did right and boost their spirits. With myself I attack like every one's nightmare of the worst teacher ever. I am a teacher and I would NEVER treat my students the way I treat myself. I'd be fired, and rightfully so. Don't get me wrong: I have high standards for my students, but I don't belittle them if they don't hit the bar. I tell them from the first moment I meet them that I don't expect them to be perfect: I always expect them to do their best and I know their best won't be the same every day. I need to apply that same care to myself.

The journey during the past week was pretty straight forward. I was nursing my left shoulder, trying to walk the fine line between pushing too far and making sure I moved the joint to keep things moving. Wednesday night was the hardest for me. Tyler introduced barbell cleans during Muscle Hour. I've had practice with them before in buddy training, but I always look for more practice. I got more practice on Wednesday, but not with the barbell. Even trying to clean the empty bar hurt. Not agony, I could have powered through, but enough pain to make me decide I wasn't going to gain anything by soldiering on. As much as it pissed me off (and I was royally pissed, trust me) I used the pvc pipe to practice the different moves involved in the cleans.

Then after the introduction and instruction we had a little circuit. One of the exercises on the circuit was box jumps. That made me happy, I can jump no shoulder movement there. True enough, but I would like to recommend to anyone that you not attempt a box jump until you are completely focused on the box. My first jump was a fail and I fell, scraping the inside of my right leg on the edge of the box. In the recent past that stumble would have ended it for me right there. I would have deemed myself a failure and decided box jumps were not for me.

Believe me, I was ready to decide that, but I remembered my wise friend (and let's be honest, teacher's pet here...I couldn't just quit with Tyler watching me. I don't want to disappoint an instructor, ever). I cut myself some slack assured the people who witnessed it I was just fine and stepped back to focus. My jumps were not perfect, I landed closer to the edge of the box and harder than I did in buddy training, but I landed every jump.

My biggest fear from the time I asked Tyler to help me with my box jumps was falling or hurting myself. I discovered falling was not a deal breaker or the end of the world. I gained a bruise as a souvenir and I survived! There weren't even any tears.

I learned things this week. I learn things most weeks really, but this week they stuck with me and I am hoping I will carry them forward.

1. I'm still not perfect and I'm never going to be perfect. I need to give my best and do my best and be content.

2. Sometimes doing what's right will feel like a let down, but it is for the best.

3. That thing you've been dreading often won't be as bad as you fear.

4. When you fall, dust yourself off, get back up and do it!

5. The things you think make you weak and disgusting are often the things that inspire other people.

6. Your teachers/instructors/friends really do know what they're saying when they tell you you can do it. Trust them, not the critic in your head.

I'll leave you with a picture of my latest souvenir. Yep it's a bruise and it's a lot bigger than I would have thought it would be, but it isn't evidence of a fail. I see it as a reminder to step back, reflect on what I've learned and get it done.

Thanks for reading!
I still got it done!




Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Here we go Again

Wow, almost two posts in one week. It must be a record or something. Possibly it's just that I'm processing through some garbage and I decided instead of being polite and just processing on my own, I'd take to my blog so anyone out there who thinks I'm still somewhere in the vicinity of normal will learn that's simply not true. Normal is a setting on my washer: I'm a bundle of quirks and craziness. Lucky you. Just so you know, it is not too late to close this page and go on with your evening.

So what exactly is running through my mind right now? How much time to you have? Seriously, this could be a long one, unless I decide to keep the crazy to a minimum and spare you the worst of it. Well, the truth is, if you're still reading at this point you have likely read my ramblings before and you know it's unlikely I'm sparing anyone anything.

I've noticed something about myself, many, many times. I was reminded of it last Saturday morning following my less than graceful attempt to perform a forward roll. I didn't mention it then because 1. I was still processing it. 2. I am nothing if I am not a people pleaser and I don't want anyone to think their advice or help has been taken the wrong way.

The truth is that many times, when someone corrects me what I hear is "You aren't good enough". I know that is not the intended message and I WANT to be corrected so I can get better. Sometimes I actually take the correction as the help it was intended to be, but if I am down or hurting or anything less than one hundred percent no matter how kind your words are or how true and well-meaning I'm going to hear "You aren't good enough".

Does this mean you should never correct me? NO!! The people in my life whom I trust the most offer correction and suggestions. Sometimes I might take it the wrong way, but I KNOW that's my problem. It is my issue and I am aware of it so there is no need to walk on eggshells. I'm a big girl, I'm a strong girl and I won't break. I might cry, I might get silent and say nothing or I might get angry, but it will pass. Beneath it all I am an adult and I understand that people don't take the time to correct or talk to someone they care nothing about.

That wasn't so painful...I don't think it's any secret I don't think I'm worth much of anything. I hope there are some things I do well, and there are times I believe there are things I do well.

Before I go further, I'd like to assure you that I am not looking for sympathy. I'm working through thoughts and ideas and you, you brave soul, happened to stumble into it. Breathe deep and know this too shall pass.

I've explored this next thought before. Usually I keep it to myself, because to me it smacks of begging for attention. What the hell though, as long as I'm being honest I might as well let all the crazy spill out, maybe it can flush out the mean girl who lives in the dark corners of my mind. She's been quite vocal lately.

I'm a fat girl. My body might look different now, but that mentality is still there. No matter what I do I feel like I should be better. I look around at my life now and wonder when it will end...when everyone is going to see what an impostor I am and tell me to hit the road. I will be quiet when I want to speak up and smile when I want to cry just to avoid making waves.

I want the fat girl to ask for what she wants, demand what she deserves and understand that she is worthy and worthwhile. I want her to believe, as a dear friend recently suggested, that I AM one of the "cool kids" now. I want to enjoy the amazing fun times without worrying they will end.

In the meantime, I'm going to keep working out, working on my nutrition and doing my best to take two steps forward for the inevitable steps back. At the moment I'm listening to my body and trying not to push my left shoulder too hard. It feels so much better than it did on Saturday, but it's not 100%.

Tonight during Muscle Hour when I wanted to ignore it and practice my barbell hang cleans I did the adult thing, admitted the pain and did what I could. So, do I feel good and wise for listening to my body? Nope, not a bit...I feel like a fraud. One step at a time, I'll listen to my body, but I am in NO way going to like it.

That's enough for one evening. Time for some Boxer snuggles and sleep.

Thanks for reading!

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Confidence

con·fi·dence
noun
    A feeling of self-assurance arising from one's appreciation of one's own abilities or qualities.

    I'd like to have some confidence in myself someday. I mean REAL confidence, not just pretending I feel confident. I'm getting better, there are moments in time that I believe I can do whatever I set my mind to. If I am being honest though, most of the time my belief in myself is dependent on other people's opinion of me. Yes I realize there is no way I'll ever be truly happy if I let other people's opinions matter so much to me.

    Today I had an opportunity to decide how I felt about myself. In the moment I was disappointed, sad and just wanted to crawl away, lick my wounds and nurse my injury. Now with ice, ibuprofen and time I am proud of myself. Not shout from the rooftops proud, but that isn't me. I'm never going to be a shout it from the rooftops kind of person. I'm going to be the quiet one standing back, waiting to do what she does before moving on.

    This morning was Saturday Morning Sweat. I love that class, I still love that class, even when I am less than graceful. Today was a not so graceful day. I had second thoughts about trying the last move of the warm up. Burpees are fine, a roll then a burpee? Umm...sure I tried it. Right side, not too horrible. Left side. Let's just say that in addition to not being able to stop as quickly as someone with less mass, I should probably have thought more carefully before I decided to land on a joint as delicate as a shoulder with my entire mass.

    In plain and simple English: Not only do chunky girls not stop on a dime, they shouldn't land on their shoulder either.

    Nothing broken, nothing dislocated, but it feels like I am as badly bruised as I have ever been and trying to lift a carton of milk using my left arm is not happening right now.

    After my landing I decided I'd try to hide it, I wanted to get through the workout and make my trainer proud. I didn't want the attention for being a klutz so I bit my lip and tried to soldier through. Yeah...DUMB MOVE. I didn't make it through one of the core exercises before I had more attention than I EVER wanted.

    Tyler was kind, but he was FIRM. The goal is not to soldier through injury: it is to speak up and use common sense. I don't think he mentioned the common sense part, I added that. Of course, I don't know exactly what he told me: I was busy trying not to cry and convincing myself the other four people there didn't know what had happened and no one was looking at me.

    At the time I was compiling a list of everything I couldn't do during the work out. I couldn't do KB swings with both arms, couldn't do the KB clean and press with my left arm. It really was a short list, but at the time I was convinced I sucked. Really, I couldn't have been so bad: Tyler joined in and worked out with us, he didn't follow me around the studio asking if I was okay every two seconds.

    Now with some time and less pain I can see things more clearly. I got in a darn good workout. I still did burpees, I did one arm KB swings, I jumped rope, I did the clean presses with my right arm, overhead squats were possible and I certainly used the rowing machine. It might not have been exactly the workout I planned, but I wasn't a failure.

    Maybe confidence for me isn't puffing up my chest and bragging about all I accomplish. It seems that confidence for me is more about  recognizing when I do the best I can do and being satisfied with that. Do I want the "atta girls" fist bumps and high fives? I do absolutely, but I also know I need to find that satisfaction inside myself. Until I do anyone and everyone can tell me how well I did and all I'll see is what I didn't do or what I did wrong.

    So the journey continues with a brief detour to heal a shoulder and shake out some of those stubborn demons. That's the point though: to do what I need to do to be mentally and physically fit. No one promised it would be easy and it isn't, but it is so worth it.

    Right now I think I'll take another dose of ibuprofen, do some shoulder stretches and movement, spend some time icing the poor abused joint and get more sleep. I may not be the most graceful person ever, but I am exactly who I'm supposed to be.

    As always thanks for reading!