Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Detours

Have you ever noticed that life doesn't move in a straight line? I can't be the only one who maps out a course and then discovers their map would be more useful folded up as a fan. I've been off on a detour for the past few months, but I finally think I turned a corner, or crawled out of the muck or just got tired of whining, pulled up my big girl pants and soldiered on. I'm pretty sure it's that last one, but I digress.

So here I am, back on the path I wanted to be on in the first place. It's good to be back. As a friend said recently: I came to kick ass and chew bubble gum and I'm all out of bubble gum. Thank you for that belly laugh Eric, you are awesome.

Life is so much easier when you stop hunching your shoulders up around your ears and waiting for the next awful thing to happen. I did know that before, but I am still human. I fall down and wallow in the muck.

It occurred to me on Monday after a meeting that renewed my faith in some people in positions of power, that acting like a whipped puppy just isn't who I am. Feeling down is a part of life, it happens. Choosing to act as if nothing would ever be all right again takes too much time and energy. Yes I do know that my brain chemistry predisposes me to depression. I also know that "wiring" is not my fault and nothing I am or should be ashamed of.

What I forgot in the midst of all that I know is that the best way for me to fight back and stay on an even keel is to move my body. Be it group fit, yoga corr, all star workout or long walks with Abbey moving keeps me sane and happy. The problem with wallowing in the muck is that I forgot that. I decided it didn't matter and I could skip whatever I wanted and it wouldn't matter.

Fortunately I got my head out of my butt before any permanent damage could be done. Workouts are much easier when you just throw yourself in heart and soul. Okay, maybe Black Crow isn't any easier, but other things are easier. Except for Figure 8 Bear Crawls, Hang Tucks...I should probably quit while I'm ahead.

For the first time in months I went to Group Fit this morning feeling like a warrior. I was ready to excel where I could and give it my all where I couldn't excel. Darn good thing there was no pole holding those cones down during the figure 8 bear crawls, I would have impaled myself a dozen times. The highlight of  "Lung Blower"? Bar none when Tyler stepped on the prowler. Oh yeah!!

It wasn't that none of my workouts have been good since I started hanging out in the muck. I have had my moments: box jumps on Saturday, October 25 were a high point and reawakened the part of me that doesn't back down from a fight. I got a fist bump for those. Best part was when I was told to step up to the stack of mats and there was no fear. Curiosity and wondering if I could do it with good form, but not a bit of fear.

So now I'm back...I have some lost ground to regain since I took my detour, but that's not a problem. I'm in this for the long haul: I'll fight back to where I was. I've been a "mooser", I've been a badass (I think I still am...I feel like one anyway) and now I'm a part of the PRIDE. Most of all: I am ME.

It's good to be back. Maybe my next post can be entertaining. You could always hope!

Thanks for reading.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

High Fives and Fist Bumps

This post will hopefully be somewhat more uplifting than the last one...but I make no promises. I have the basic idea of what I want to write, but often I find that the idea takes on a life of its own once I start to write. Quite often I get to the end of the post and am as surprised at the direction it took as some of you readers probably are. I'll at least try for entertaining if I can't be uplifting.

I suppose being honest is important too. I don't want anyone thinking this journey is easy. There are times, sometimes months when I wonder what I've done. Yep, having some of those months now. Bear with me, or run screaming for the hills. I wouldn't blame you for taking the second option. I'd run away from me too, but unfortunately you can't ever run away from yourself. It's a silly rule really...I should be able to pick up and leave myself behind any time I want. That's another post...or maybe a sign some therapy would be in order. Hmm...I'll ponder that later.

My title is a nod to the two fitness professionals I've worked most with on this journey. Ben was/is a believer in high fives and I LIVED for them. The end of personal training would come and some times I could barely haul myself up off the mats, but I'd find the energy to get that high five. It meant the world. Tyler prefers the fist bump and I love those just as much as the high fives, except recently. Recently I find myself not wanting any recognition at all. Even a "good form" makes me cringe and want to hide.

I seem to have misplaced my mojo...or it wandered off and got lost. It's not that big, I hope it isn't cold and lonely out there in the world. I'd put up missing posters and offer a reward, but since I don't really know how to take a picture of something that isn't real I'll have to keep looking.

Recently it is all I can do to drag myself out of bed and go work out. Yes, 5:30 am is early and it's often dark and cold, but it is also the time I've been working out for almost 3 years now. So I force myself out of bed, I dress and I drive to the studio and I walk in feeling like one giant open wound. I just want it to be over so I can go home. I don't feel like myself and if I am completely honest: I am not myself. I give it my best effort, but it doesn't feel the same. Everything feels harder, so much harder that I often find myself blinking back tears. There have been tears when the workouts are done, times I sit in the car, wonder why I bothered and why Tyler keeps letting me come. So when buddy training is over I don't feel like I've earned a fist bump or an "atta girl" I just want to slide out unnoticed.

I don't like feeling this way, in fact I hate it. I want to find my mojo, or my spark, or whatever the heck it was that made me keep going.

Friday morning I compounded my issues by stepping on the scale. I really should just chuck the darn thing out the window,after I open it and remove the screen of course. These are nice new windows and they were expensive. I'm pretty sure my mother would throttle me if one got broken.

So here I am Friday morning at 4:30 am already feeling low and I decide to step on the scale? Does anyone else want to know if I have any common sense whatsoever??

Well, the news wasn't good. According to the scale I have gained ten pounds since the last time I weighed myself. TEN POUNDS!?! I am proud of myself for not having a complete meltdown, but I was not a happy camper to put it mildly. I couldn't let that number go through the "Sinister 6" workout or at any other point on Friday.

I would like to note that none of my clothing seems tighter than it was and no one has said "Wow, looks like you're packing on some pounds". Of course, I would hope no one would be rude enough to say that to me, but the possibility does exist it could be said. So I will breathe a small sigh of relief and vow not to get near the scale again for a long time.

I know the scale gives me a number that in no way measures my worth as a person or tells you anything else about me, but OMG. That was NOT what I needed.

I went shopping with two amazing friends yesterday and had time for quiet reflection on the drive home. As much as I don't want to be acknowledged right now, there is a part of me that needs to know what I'm doing right and craves the high five or fist bump. I'm not too proud to admit that even if I don't think I deserve it an "atta girl" makes me feel better about my performance. I'll get back to being intrinsically motivated soon, but for now I need a little more encouragement.

Good thing there is no deadline on this journey, because I seem to have taken some steps backward. I recognize that and I'm not quitting. I'll square my shoulders, gather my will and my wits and trudge forward again. I'm not giving up and I won't go back to where I started.

Fist bumps and high fives all around: we've got this.

Thanks for reading!!

Monday, October 13, 2014

Decisions, decisions...

Hi, it's me...back from the hole I closed over myself after I crawled under my rock. It's been a time, let's try to keep things positive and mostly drama-free and leave it at that.

Oh, who am I kidding?!? The concept of drama-free does not belong in any sentence where my name comes up. I strive for a mostly rational existence with the occasional wild ride that defies logic and explanation. Since most of these wild rides also involve a choice on my part there is probably a serious lack of common sense at play too.

You might remember that my last post was written before I was to tackle a Spartan Sprint. Well, tackling took place, sadly I was the one being tackled. A wise mentor assured me that we all have events like that and moving on and trusting my heart was the best option. I'd love so much to tell you I took his advice. I'd really love to, but that would make me a liar.

Before the race started I had clues this was not going to be a stellar performance for me. I was nauseated by the idea of what I was about to do, my back was sore from a long car ride and most importantly in my heart of hearts I didn't feel prepared. Not that I didn't have the training, I had the training, what was lacking was the self-confidence. No surprise there, I lack confidence in myself in many situations. I do my best, I give my all and I worry it is nowhere close to enough.

So I went over the start wall and the back spasms started. Not drop me to my knees debilitating, but painful. I took deep breaths, tried to quell the nausea and focused on the emcee. He was motivating, but there wasn't a lot of me to motivate. I was scared, outclassed and hurting. The race started and so did I with the best team I could have ever hoped for. Carole, Cheryl and Gretchen checked in on me, stopped to wait for me and told me I could do it.

By the time we were a quarter of the way up the mountain I knew I couldn't do it, the pain wouldn't quit, I was feeling panicky and because of that I was having a hard time getting a full breath. Why the panic? I was going to fail and I don't like to fail...it rattles the cage of the perfectionist taking up space in my head.

It was not a stellar performance, in fact, to be blunt and rude: it stunk. I wound up lost on the Beast course, sobbing like a two-year old at a water station and getting a medal I didn't earn and can't stand to see.

It's taken me until now to have any desire to write this post. I took the experience harder than I should have and I know that. I went as far as emailing Spartan HQ asking for an address so I could mail back the medal. The response was not what I hoped for. The customer service rep who responded did not give me the address I wanted. Here's an excerpt from the email:

"We encourage you to use the medal as motivation to compete in another race, so that when you race again and finish, this medal will symbolize your drive and determination to earn a medal on your terms."

My first reaction when I read that was "Is she NUTS? Another Spartan?! I'm not a Spartan: I'm a Mudder: No more Spartan races, EVER." Now I've had time to think, process and act like an adult and I know there is a good chance I will be competing in another Spartan race. The next one will be on my terms for myself. Quite selfish I know, but I can't ask other people to do it with me when I'm not sure I will do any better the next time.

You see, I came to another decision after the Spartan. Things need to change. I am pushing my body hard, not paying attention to signs that could signal a need to slow down, because I don't want to screw this up and be the person I was before. I have talked to my fitness professional and he assures me we can build my mobility and strengthen my core. He also assured me my strength won't suffer for this work and improving my mobility can only help. I say: bring it on! So dead lifts, tire flips, rope climbs, box jumps and the prowler might be missing from my personal training for the time being. I will get back to them though and I will miss them.

I'd like to tell you I learned my lesson from the Spartan, I know how to fix it and I've moved on. I've moved past the point where I look at the medal and want to throw it into the trash, but unlike the Mudder headbands it hangs near it doesn't make me smile. It makes me a little sad honestly: I didn't accomplish what I thought I would. Not that I did nothing, I did huge things: I trusted two people I didn't know to help me straight down the mountain. I trusted the Spartan staff member who told me how I was going to finish the race. I did not punch the volunteer who followed me from the finish line and kept telling me to take my finisher medal, she wasn't going to take no for an answer so I finally took it and stuffed it in my bag. I cheered for other people as they finished and cheered for the amazing team I started off with and the other friends who finished. I felt like a loser, but I put on my best mask, smiled as much as I could, pulled up my big girl panties and did my best to make other people feel good.

Now I'm going to take some time to make myself feel good. I've made a lot of decisions over the course of the last seven months: believing promises that might not make sense on the surface. Having faith to trust that things will turn out just as they are supposed to in my journey. Having the faith to keep moving forward when it would be easier to give up and give in. Believing there is a plan and a purpose when it's dark and I have lost the map.

I'm not superwoman, I never was. I'm all too human and if I look strong on the surface, it's because I'm stubborn. Physically I am strong, it's time to work on the emotional/mental side of the equation.

As always, thanks for reading!