What I Did On My Summer Vacation

This summer, my financial times aren't tough but neither are they golden. I've worked fewer hours. I had to buy a couple tires for my car. Insurance prices have increased. And so on. And so on. And so on.

I pulled my purse strings as tight as I could but still couldn't eek enough out of my budget for a summer vacation. No early morning walks on tropical beaches for me. No second (or third) cocktail at a bar on a cruise ship where I didn't have to be concerned about driving the next day. No "yes-I'd-love-dessert-after-my-steak-dinner" dinners.

I accepted my situation but was also feeling a little deprived.

What to do?

I signed up for summer camp.

No, not the kind of camp where you make keychains or learn to code or ride gentle horses.

I signed up for an Olympic Weightlifting class.  Actually, it was 6 weeks of twice a week classes. When I saw the notice for the class, I was immediately interested. It worked out to less than nine bucks a class. I would be making a commitment to drive across town in evening traffic but it beat sitting on the sofa all summer long.

Lifting has become my favorite part of CrossFit. It appeals to me for reasons I'm not entirely clear about but when I see strict presses or deadlifts on the white board, I'm excited to get to them. I think it may boil down to my competitive nature. I may not be able to run as fast as most and burpees wear my ass out quickly but I can hold my own in activities that require an element of brute strength. I get a little thrill out of seeing that I'm posting a relatively high number when we report our scores for a lifting workout. Still, complicated technical lifts have been known to intimidate me. Remember, I haven't been squatting much since a big arthritis flare in my knee sidelined me in November of 2017. Also, I may be one of the only people who ever hurled a PVC pipe at the athlete in front of me when going through snatch drills. I'm not the most coordinated person you'll ever meet. Intellectually, I thought an Oly lifting class would help me "get the steps down".

So, back to the actual Oly lifting class. When we gathered for our first session, the coach asked us to state our goals for taking the class. I opened my mouth and out fell my vulnerability.

"I want to have less fear and more confidence."

Where did that come from??? I'd told it to hide deep down where I was the only one that knew how I really felt. Yup. I was afraid of hurting myself and I wasn't confident in my ability to move more weight safely. So much for looking at my motivation intellectually. Isn't that how it often goes, though? We have these sunny, positive goals that are safe to put out for general inspection but when the deep, dark, scary stuff is exposed...

There's a fine line between humility and shame.

Each class, I was forced to examine my weaknesses and my strengths. There's no hiding when you're one of a handful of athletes under the watchful eye of a skilled coach. Grace saw everything and it became easier to trust my physical AND emotional learning to her. I can't begin to imagine the vast knowledge she has around lifting - and more importantly - around coaching lifting. I don't need to imagine it, I've been living with the outcomes of her application of that knowledge.

I fully committed to her programming. I attended each class and did the homework. As the weeks went by, I began to marvel at my accomplishments. Yes, I can squat. Yes, I can squat much more than I thought. And yes, I can perform snatches and cleans with much more weight than I ever imagined possible. I'm still not comfortable with split jerks and given my knee situation, I may never become so. I'm OK with that. Deciding to do a push jerk instead of a split jerk comes down to that humility vs shame thing. I'm good with being the strongest humble athlete I can be. I'm not good with being an injured athlete who is ashamed at not knowing better.

So, that's what I did on my summer vacation. One of the best yet.

Thanks to Grace Lin for being such a great coach and to CrossFit Central Houston for providing such a valuable program.  Also, thanks to Viv. She's about the best lifting partner a gal could ever ask for. I like to travel with friends, and she made this staycation one for the books.

Let's Talk About Age

My 59th birthday is approaching with force and velocity over which I have no control.  For some reason this seems like a bigger deal than 60.  Maybe I'll change my mind next year but at some point (in my 40s, maybe?) marking decades began to take on more importance to me than marking years. After next Friday, I'll start rounding out my 5th decade. Although I don't have an expiration date stamped on me,  I am aware of an underlying sense of urgency about my life and my accomplishments.

Birthdays are funny.  We go to bed one age and wake up the next day another. We haven't actually aged a year overnight but we sometimes act as if that's exactly what happened.

I'm not 58 years old. I'm 58 years and 360 days old.  Not quite ready to call it quits.

I had a text interaction with a friend earlier this week that initially caused me to bristle. Long story short, she told me I'm an inspiration and she hopes to be "as dedicated to fitness in my later years as you are at your age." It's not the first time this person has mentioned my age to me and I was, honestly, a little stung.  Here was a young, beautiful, strong woman telling me I was...let's just say it...old. It hurt a bit. But, why? Why should I be hurt by someone stating her truth?

Giving it a lot of thought I've come back around to the 1st line of my 2nd paragraph (above). Age is approaching with force and velocity over which I have no control. Anyone who knows me will tell you that loss of control is crazy-making for me. Take a look at my linen closet and you'll realize that I'm a woman who likes order. My spice cabinet is an even better example.  Allspice is left of basil which is left of cardamom, etc, etc.

Aging is an unknown. I have no idea what might come first or what might not come at all. There are  shit-tons of variables lurking in the upcoming decades: illness, financial challenges, climate change, political upheaval, loss of friends/family.  When will my hair finally tip over to full-on gray? How deep will these wrinkles get? (Why, oh why, do I always come back around to the physical?)

So the question is: How do I control something that is uncontrollable? Time -by definition - ticks on.

I prepare for it. That's how.

I nourish my body and my relationships. I get stronger. I stock up on what I'll need to make it through those challenges. I build muscle. I build friendships. I build my reserves.

"Old" is not objective. It is a subjective construct. When I was 25, I thought 60 was old.  Recently I've shifted more to thinking 80 might be old. A few weeks ago I attended an 80th birthday party for a friend who does yoga daily and works at a fairly demanding job. Each time I see her, she's impeccably dressed. She's not old by any measure. So, 80? Not so sure anymore. Perhaps 90.

Getting back to that text conversation. I bounced my immediate emotional reaction off my brother (a wise man of 57) and he advised me to cut her some slack. It's a matter of perspective. I don't know why my friend thinks I'm in my "later" years or even what she means by "later".  Her life experience is as much a mystery to me as mine is to hers. My mom died at 45. I don't have a close frame of reference for "later". Such a smart guy. We (my brother and I) joked about just how very kick-ass we will be when we're 80 and beyond. I look forward to that.

I'm also looking forward to relishing each day as it comes. With maturity I've honed in on what brings me happiness and what detracts from that state. I'm grateful that some of the very activities that help me live longer also make me happy. My goals for the next year:

Lift heavier
Live lighter
Get stronger
Try harder
Listen better

Quantifiably, I have specific lifts with target weights I'd love to hit before I'm 60. I think a personal record (PR) of 300# in deadlift is reachable for me and I have plenty of room to improve my back squat, bench press, and strict press.

Every day is a PR, when you think about it. We wake up and we've lived 1 day longer than we'd lived yesterday. When I look at it this way, "later years" sounds pretty good. I hope my friend who unwittingly pushed me to putting these words out there for all to read knows how much I appreciate her. This is about my truth and I'm grateful she helped me get around to it.

Anniversary

On August 1, 2016, I stepped into a new world. I was terrified of many things: the equipment, my lack of strength and coordination, the strangers who might judge me. I had an abject fear and loathing of team sports participation. I signed up for an introduction to CrossFit at my son's urging (encouragement? prodding?).  A lot has changed for me in 2 years.

This afternoon I was thumbing through my CF journal where I keep a record of the workouts and my weights/times.

2 years ago my deadlift weight was 25#.  I could bench press 45#.  Light weight kettle bell squats were too much for me, I modified to air squats. Weighted overhead squats were virtually impossible due to instability and immobility.

The first few months of journal entries are sprinkled with happy faces, occasional sad faces, notes regarding painful joints, "next time"s, "atta girl"s, and lots and lots of exclamation points.  I was still learning the language and had no grasp on acronyms so I wrote out EVERYTHING.

After a while, I started marking the margins with asterisks.  *Did a box jump! *Hero WOD. *Benchmark.  *PR!!!

When my knee pain became more than I could/should handle, I saw a doctor and had to modify many of the workouts. The coaches were great about helping me switch things up to avoid further injury and to strengthen surrounding muscles.  They worked with me on technique and mobility. I didn't squat for a very long time. In reviewing my journal, I see that I started setting more and more PRs when I started taking care of myself.

My participation in the 2018 CrossFit Open was actually FUN!  For 5 weeks, I looked forward to Thursday nights (when the next workout was announced) and I enjoyed pushing myself to be as fast and strong as I could be. Spending time recovering from joint damage (at least acutely) gave me the confidence to complete a couple of the Open workouts as prescribed (as opposed to scaled). I placed better this year than last and I'm looking forward to 2019.

I'm lifting much more weight now. I'm mostly past my social anxiety, and I enjoy partnering up for some workouts.  I try to welcome newcomers to the gym as soon as I see them.  I'm much more accepting of my body and look at joint limitations as a challenge rather than a hindrance.  I'm still not a big fan of the schoolyard-type games that we sometimes play during warmup.  (Everything is dodgeball to me. Everything.)  I play along, though, knowing that it will only last a few minutes and then we're on to the fun stuff.  I've made real friends at the gym. My social circle is brighter for it.

Likely related to my strengths and weaknesses, I've developed a fondness for strongman exercise and some weightlifting.  Sure! I can carry that heavy thing from point A to point B. Let's go! I get a silly little thrill when I realize dead ball cleans are on the schedule. You want me to lift something over my head? Yes!

I have a new understanding of discomfort related to time. I can do almost anything for just 1 more minute - no matter how fatigued I think I am. Working out in a facility without air conditioning has made me appreciate sweat. It means I'm working hard and (I tell myself) it's also great for my skin.  I've become more tolerant of being uncomfortable and I think I've gained some perspective about actual pain. Perhaps...I've become a little tougher?

Back to that team sport thing.  Encouraging, high-fiving, cheering, competing (with and against)...all of these things are activities I've kind of missed out on my entire life. I'm surprisingly thankful for them now. Go, team!

My CrossFit journal is almost full. Time to buy a new one. I can't wait to fill it up.

I'm Kind of Amazed

For those following along, I've completed 3 weeks of a vegan diet.

Workouts:  5 CrossFit classes.
Percent vegan diet: 100%
Weight: Minus 10.5 lbs since May 7.
Mood: Good.

I encountered some challenges this week.

I was invited to a birthday party and I knew there would be an open bar. I've abstained from alcohol since the first week of May for several reasons. I don't want to succumb to disinhibition-induced eating. I don't want the empty calories. I'm avoiding processed food as much as possible. But, hey, it was a celebration. Right? I had 2 drinks and avoided the adorable cupcakes on a platter nearby. My feet were aching (high heels and a little dancing) and my friend and I were hungry. We pulled out our phones and searched the neighborhood.  Mai's!!!  Mai's is a local Vietnamese restaurant that's open until 4am. I was happy to see tofu pho with vegetarian broth on the menu.  I could only eat half of that beautiful bowl of soup but it was a good choice.  I was in bed by 12:30 but had to be up early Saturday for an 8:00am crossfit class followed by a clinic to work on handstand pushup progressions. If I say that I was pretty sore, quite fatigued, very thirsty, and a little cranky, I'm not exaggerating.  So those reasons for avoiding alcohol? Number one continues to be dehydration.  It's just not worth it to me.

My next challenge came with the Memorial Day weekend.  Because I'm not traveling this weekend, I've had a lot of time on my hands. In my quasi-boredom, I've surfed social media and there are a lot of pictures of BBQs, beginning-of-summer celebrations, etc, etc.  I was invited to a couple cookouts.  I declined. I don't trust myself with all that grilled meat yet.  My commitment to a plant-based diet is for 30 days. I NEED to honor this commitment to myself. I want to see the results, look at the data, and make a decision for my lifestyle based on reality - not some "hope" that things can be better.  I'm attempting to stay busy at home. I ironed some clothes in the back of the closet that now fit me.  I planted a tomato plant and some herbs out on my patio.  This morning, I'm participating in the Memorial Day Murph workout at my CF gym.  Doing 3/4 and planning to smash last year's time.

Things ARE getting better. My sleep is improving. My workouts are more intense and I feel like I'm getting more out of them.  Best of all, my arthritis pain is drastically improved. I've had ZERO ibuprofen or Tylenol this week.  Zero. It's been decades since I could say that. I'm kind of amazed.

As always, thanks to all who have reached out and asked me how it's going and offered their support. Much appreciated.



(A snapshot of this week's farmshare. It's easier to be excited with all this beauty available.)

Benchmark

Thoughts generated by a benchmark:

I've been CrossFitting for about 16 months.  I made it through those first few months only by gritting my teeth and manufacturing quasi-determination to move forward. Each time I walked through the gym door, my heart raced, I became short of breath, and I had mild nausea - due simply to the load of insecurity I was carrying on my shoulders. I felt pathetically weak and was afraid I'd never get past the weakness. I was confused by the language and embarrassed by my awkwardness.

I still have insecurities and weaknesses but I'm not so fearful of having them exposed.  Hiding behind my ego/self-doubt is a recipe for failure. I've learned that accepting my awkwardness is paramount to developing technique.  I listen very, VERY carefully to coaching instruction. With time and dedication to getting up and going to the gym, my strength, endurance, and attitude has improved.

I've become friends with physical discomfort while also becoming friends with my 6AM workout buddies. All of this is good for this shy person who spent over 50 years comforted by isolation. I'm part of a community in and out of the gym.

In November I saw an Orthopedic Surgeon to address a problem I'd been kind-of-sort-of ignoring. My chronically moderate knee pain was more severe and was limiting daily activities. Walking was painful. Climbing stairs was painful. Descending stairs was excruciating. I was in pain at work and while I fitfully slept. 

I went to the Xray department the morning of my appointment and was then placed in an exam room to await the doctor. Having read a few films in my life, I knew what I was seeing when she swung the monitor around and asked me to "take a look". There's no missing the obvious signs of arthritis in a joint. All the pain I'd been dealing with now made perfect sense. I got the advice I expected and a prescription I didn't. 

After a few days, the flare began to wane and I contacted my coaches to let them know I was coming back and I'd appreciate their help in modifying my program for continued progress while protecting my knees from further damage. It's been a trip back to feeling:

Weak

Awkward

Insecure

While my class does squats, I can't. While my class runs, I can't. My jumprope is collecting dust. I am, however: rowing more, using the ski erg more, and getting a lot of upper body work. At the white board, I'm thinking through possible modifications and my conversations with the coaches feel more collaborative now. We're working together to make this successful.  I'm reading more about mobility and do more work at home than ever before. Taking ownership of my fitness has been a wonderful gift.

So, to the benchmark. Yesterday the WOD was front squats. A lot of them. Obviously, I'd need to do something completely different. I asked the coach if I could work on my deadlift. He kept an eye on me during the workout and although I was in my own zone, I was still participating along with everyone else. All these months of listening VERY carefully to instruction paid off yesterday. I took my time and worked up to a 200 pound deadlift. So, so, so excited.

Here's where things get interesting. (At least they do to me.) I downplayed my accomplishment when a couple people congratulated me on my PR. I literally shrugged and said, "Not bad for an old lady" and "I know you lift way more than that."  What?!? Why do I do this to myself? 

Circle back to my first paragraph. "...due simply to the load of insecurity I was carrying on my shoulders." That load is heavy as hell.  Imagine how much more I'll be able to lift when I set that load down. I'm on the fence about resolutions - not sure if they're all that helpful but today I'll make a couple for the upcoming year. I resolve to recognize insecurity, acknowledge it, and get on with what I need to do. I also resolve to value accomplishments: Mine and ours. They have meaning and they have weight.