An Open Letter to the Man at the Firestone Store

Dear Sir, 6/10/20

I watched you approach the seating area and I waited to see where you would choose to land. You weren’t wearing a mask.

There were many (at least a dozen) seats available, yet you chose to sit about 6 feet away from me. I was wearing a mask.

Almost immediately after sitting down, you stood and walked to the service counter. I moved to a different seat (about 15’ away from yours).

During the next 20 minutes or so I saw you:

Set up your laptop on a small table. 

Move your jacket over to a chair by the table. 

Try 2 different plugs for your power cord.

Approach employees at the store and ask them about the WiFi password.

Set your laptop on a counter at the center of the store.

Sit down in yet another chair and talk on your cell phone.

Your phone conversation was not discreet. It was held in the waiting room of a business open to the public. You told someone that you “tested positive but I don’t have any symptoms”. You told someone that you “have to work from my hotel room for 14 days to satisfy my employer.”  I heard these things. I also heard that your hotel smoke detector chirped all night and you are being moved to another room.

When the manager brought me my paperwork, I told the manager what I'd heard. I told him I’d have to leave my car and come back later because I couldn’t take a chance and wait in a room with an unmasked person who stated he tested positive. I told the manager, “Good luck with that.”

The manager immediately asked you about it. He directly asked you if you’d tested positive.

You said. “No, I don’t have Covid 19. You need to mind your own business.” You and I both know what you said on the phone. It’s absolutely my business. It's also the business of every person you interacted with this morning.

Oh, sir. I sincerely hope you remain symptom-free. I sincerely hope you don’t have to go through the terrifying experience of becoming breathless. I sincerely hope you don’t have to be placed on a ventilator and I sincerely hope you don’t die from COVID19.

I hope even more that you don’t infect someone. I hope that their family members don’t have to go through the pain of losing a loved one. I hope you don’t cause someone to become so sick they lose months and months of time and are unable to work at all. 

Most of all I hope you (somehow, someway) felt a tiny bit of awareness during our uncomfortable encounter this morning. I hope you are led to responsible behavior regarding your fellow human beings.

Most Sincerely,  Michelle Scofield, Houston, TX

Real Life Application of CrossFit Theory for a Grandma Who Lifts

Why do I CrossFit?

Let's use today as an example.

I completed my appointment at the World's Largest Medical Center and made my way to my car. Earlier this morning, I parked on the 6th floor - toward the top of the parking structure. At 8:30 am, I had my pick of spaces and there weren't a lot of cars on that floor. By 10:00 am, the place was jam-packed. As I approached my space, I realized I had a problem.  Although my car was easily between MY two yellow lines, a big ol' red extended cab pickup was parked just inches (maybe 2? maybe 3?) from my driver's side. He was angled over the line and into my space. A sedan was on the passenger side, also over the line and into my space.

Well, shit.

I took a minute to assess the situation and, happily, looked up to see a security vehicle making the rounds. I flagged the officer who got out and he immediately started shaking his head.  "Yeah, that's not good."

I had to laugh at the way he summed it up.  He called the Texas Medical Center police switchboard who said the Parking Department would have to handle it. He jotted down a phone number for me and went on his way.

Again. Shit.

I tried to call the parking department but the number I was given wasn't in service.

Big breath. Oh, look! Here comes a TMC police cruiser.  The police officer stops, gets out of his vehicle and asks me if I'm a good driver. Hell, yeah. I'm a good driver! I told him I used to drive an ambulance in Kansas - sometimes in the snow. "Great! You can do this!"

Let's talk functional fitness here. And heart rate control. And following direction. And trust. And teamwork.

We folded up the mirrors of my car and the car to my right. That left a sliver for me to eek through but I had to do a squatting/limbo kind of move to even enter and THEN I had to balance on my right foot while I wiggled my way in to get a foothold on the floor of the passenger side. Once there, I only had to crawl over the console to get into the driver's seat. Whew!

I was kind of wound up by then. I needed to be calm and listen.

Windows down so I could hear instructions. Deep breath. Concentrate.

Inch by inch, we worked together to get the damned thing out of that parking spot. He gave me corrections, I made them. When I finally got clear (without a scratch to any of the cars), we cheered together.

This entire episode literally mirrors my White Board and WOD experience every time I go to the gym.  Gather information, pay attention to the details, trust in the coach, listen and make adjustments as needed, celebrate achievement.

Seriously, celebrate your damned achievements! Life is too challenging and too full of possible disappointments not to cheer when you can.

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.

Week 5 Update - Numbers Driven

For those following along, I've completed 5 weeks of a vegan diet.

Workouts:  5 CrossFit classes.
Percent vegan diet: 100%
Weight: Minus 14 lbs since May 7.
Mood: Good.



For now, it's all about the numbers.  This picture speaks loudly to me.  That's my A1C and estimated average glucose sliding down into the normal range. I'm no longer diagnosed as "pre-diabetic".  Can I get an Amen and a Hallelujah?  Believe me, I shouted them when I read the results.

More numbers:  Two. That's how many pairs of shorts I had to buy because my old ones were falling off.  Eight. The stairs I nimbly stepped down with no difficulty whatsoever after sitting through a full-length movie. And finally...One. One little baby girl that will be coming into the world with a healthier and happier grandma. I'm thrilled to be working toward being the strongest and most active grandmother I can possibly be. Can't wait to meet her and to start building our own adventures.

I don't want to overdue the updates so this is the last weekly one.  I'll let y'all know in a month or two how I'm doing.  In the meantime, thanks for all your support and I encourage you to take whatever steps you need in order to be the healthiest YOU possible. 

Week 4 Recap

For those following along, I've completed 4 weeks of a vegan diet.

Workouts:  5 CrossFit classes.
Percent vegan diet: 100%
Weight: Minus 12 lbs since May 7.
Mood: Good.

This was a good week. This is becoming more routine and less of an effort.

I've had a few discussions with friends and acquaintances about the "why" of my dietary changes. I'm struggling a little with the word "vegan" because I'm not living a vegan lifestyle in other ways. I still carry a leather bag. I haven't researched my cosmetics. I'm using "plant-based" more and more to describe my eating choices.  It feels more honest, overall. Perhaps it's just semantics and perhaps I have more time on my hands to think about semantics. Basically, I'm experimenting with this diet to see if my health improves. It's all about me.  I left the vegan descriptor in my introduction above because I have adhered 100%...it might be nice to use a little honey now and then, though.

Time.  My free time has changed in a couple of major ways.  I spend more time prepping and cooking meals now.  Those brussels sprouts aren't going to shred themselves and I've found that pre-cooking and storing in the fridge tends to cause some foods to degrade a little.  Some things are tastier if I prepare them right before I'm going to eat them.  I spend more time consuming my meals. There's a lot of chewing to be done when the plate is full of plant material. I spend LESS time snacking on the sofa in front of the television.  I'm simply not as hungry as I was a couple months ago.  On days I go to the gym, I'm able to sleep a precious 15 minutes extra because I stopped having pre-workout snacks. (My go-to a couple months ago was half a peanut butter sandwich.)  I'm not starving when I get home from the gym even though I'm going 12 plus hours without eating. Finally,  I'm spending less time at the grocery store. I hit the produce department and a couple aisles for grains/nuts, and I'm out of there.  I'm no longer browsing the aisles of the grocer like I'm on an entertaining shopping expedition.

So the question is, what to do with all this time?  I've been thinking of taking up knitting again. I'm also browsing travel sites to dream about my next big adventure.

I'm looking forward to seeing my physician later this week. I'll let you know how my bloodwork turns out. As good as I feel, I expect to see improvement in my labs.

Thanks again for all your kind words of encouragement.  Your support is highly appreciated.