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.

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.

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.)

Week 2 Recap

For those following along, I've completed 2 weeks of a vegan diet.

Workouts:  5 CrossFit classes.
Percent vegan diet: 100%
Weight: Minus 8.4 lbs since May 7.
Mood: Remains overall upbeat.

It's getting easier, y'all.

I haven't experienced too many cravings for meat but thought about cheese more times than I think one usually would in a normal day.  Years ago I took a meditation class and worked with a technique to gently push intruding thoughts away from my mind's eye.  I've been calling on that method to deal with intruding thoughts of cheddar and mozzarella.  I imagine the back of my hand ever-so-gently pushing the thought off to the side. It's working so far.  In reality, simply acknowledging that I'm THINKING about cheese during the day tells me that I probably haven't thought about it enough. It was an easy grab from the refrigerator when I was hungry and I fooled myself into thinking it had something I needed to sustain me. Don't get me wrong. It's delicious. I simply ate more of it than was healthy for me.

The other epiphany I had this week was around my use of food as entertainment. I stayed at a friend's house this weekend - watching his place and his dog. I do this fairly often (every month or so) and previously, I haven't taken much of my own food because there are so many great restaurants close by.  I rationalized not cooking because: I didn't want to dirty up the kitchen, he uses different oil/condiments/etc, and I was allowing myself the "treat" of hamburgers, fries, chinese food, chicken caesar salad, beer.  You get the picture.

This weekend I carted all my own food to his house. I cooked all my meals. I drank oceans of water.  I still felt as if I'd been treated but the difference was I was treating myself better.

None of this is earth-shattering and I'm aware of that.  I hope that by putting some of my thoughts into words, I can start to cement the changes I'm experiencing into my behaviors. Maybe someone reading will be encouraged.  I certainly appreciate the encouragement I've received from those who are reading along. Your kind words mean the world to me. Thank you.

One more thing. I received a HUGE dose of inspiration watching the team from CrossFit Central Houston compete at the regional CrossFit competition.  Congrats to them for their strong showing.

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.

Recess Again

Do you remember recess?  Or PE?  (We called it gym class in Junior High.)

For me, recess started out as...fun!  I got to be outside and I got to try new things - often mastering them.  A few of those things were quasi-dangerous. I'm sure today's second graders wouldn't be allowed to do a penny drop over packed dirt and gravel. We had no concept of spotting.  We either picked up those who crashed or we ran to get the teacher - depending on how much blood there was.  The metal merry-go-rounds provided stomach-flipping thrills the faster we pushed them. Those ladders leading to the slide?  How many rungs could we climb and then jump off?  Who needed a slide?  Swings were made to be bailed out of - not just swung.

I learned to be social, encouraging, and competitive all at the same time.  There were a couple ways to draw a hopscotch grid.  You couldn't double-dutch by yourself.  Freeze tag was more fun the more people who played.

Things started changing for me in the fifth grade.  I was terrified of one particular girl in my class.  She started with threats of finding me after school and escalated to literally beating me up on the playground one day.  I dreaded being outside of the safety of my classroom.  (The same girl was taken away by the police when she brought a handgun to school and threatened a teacher.  Yes, we had these problems in the sixties, too.)  Anyway, I found reasons to be in the library during recess.  I mean, who doesn't love a little girl who chooses to write extra reports?  Or reads just about every book she gets her hands on?

After sixth grade, we moved to the West side of town and I started attending a new school.  I didn't go to the same elementary schools as the other kids and I was a fish out of water, for sure.  I didn't own a pair of blue jeans.  I had kinky brown hair.  I wore glasses.  I obviously didn't fit in.  I was eventually befriended by a group of girls who probably saved my life.  I'm not sure if any of them know that.  I'm still in touch with most of them and I cherish the decades we've known each other.  The thing is, as a teen I didn't recognize their value nearly enough.  My glass was half full and I was waiting for some beautiful West side cheerleader to spill what little I thought I had in that glass.

We had to wear uniforms to gym class.  The institutional green shirts and shorts mortified me.  How could they look so cute on the popular girls and so awful on me?  Why wouldn't my mom buy me tube socks without the black stripe at the top?  Would I ever get a pair of gym shoes that didn't make my feet look like two bricks at the bottom of my legs?

Also, the showers.  I had to be naked around people I didn't know and I was never cooled off enough to stop sweating.  I often left the locker room feeling like I was emitting a cloud of steam.  My glasses would fog, my dark brown hair would curl even further, and my clumsy attempt at mascara would smudge.  I was surrounded by pretty, glowing, blonde cheerleaders.  I was Judy Blume middle school dramatic in a quiet, introspective, sweaty, and suffering way.

The activities in gym class were tough for me.  I hadn't taken private gymnastics lessons so I was essentially a remedial student for that portion of the year.  It wasn't unusual for some girls in my class  to do back handsprings and flips.  I fell off the balance beam more times than I can count.  Just walking.  No tricks. I saw the trampoline as a death trap.  When we moved on to basketball,  I didn't make baskets.  I counted on my friend, Kelly, to tell me to run to the other end of the court when it was time.  I had no concept of the rules of the game.

Summers were a relief.  My brothers, my sister, and I were on the neighborhood pool's swim team.  We walked to morning practices together, swam all day, and then practiced again at night.  Our coaches kept a close eye on us and guided us to some decent times - and a lot of fun.

But school? I don't remember any REAL coaching or training going on at my schools.  We were left to our own devices to either succeed gloriously or fail miserably.  It's no wonder I hated PE and gravitated toward classwork and teachers that challenged and coached my brain (Thanks, Mr. Z!).  The thrill of physical accomplishment stayed back in grade school.  I lasted one season on my high school swim team and felt real pleasure at turning in my team suit.  As soon as gym class wasn't mandatory, I filled those elective hours with classes which caused me less discomfort and embarrassment.

I was on my way to becoming a loner athlete and didn't even know it.  As an adult I found that running allowed me to get the physical activity I craved and I could run alone.  The thing is...again, no coaching/training/teaching.  I got through thousands of miles and what I have to show for it is a few dozen medals, a calcified left achilles, and poor upper body strength.

Since starting CrossFit, I've discovered what attentive coaching and encouragement looks like.  I'm gradually getting stronger.  My fifty six year old body's creaks and aches aren't as pronounced but I have the confidence to grunt and groan louder than ever before.

Sometimes we have to make some noise to make some moves.

Today I ran 6 X 200s.  (The prescribed workout was 6 X 400s.)  I'm able to scale down as a beginner and sometimes I really need that.  I'm not intimidated by the accomplishments of others in the class because I'm not comparing my accomplishments to theirs.  They're concentrating so hard on their  workouts that they're not judging me.  I'm not intimidated by them, I'm inspired by them.  Even more than that, I'm enjoying being part of a bunch of people running around outside with a beautiful sunrise to light our way.

I wear my glasses for most workouts. (Safety first!)  My hair gets curlier as the workout progresses.  I wear the shorts and shirt that is the most comfortable and I haven't thought about how my socks look.  Not once.  I wear a bandana as a headband and I sweat.  A lot.

It seems I'm experiencing recess all over again.  I get to be outside and I'm trying new activities.  I expect to master some of those skills.  I'm re-learning how to be social, encouraging, and competitive all at the same time. Rather than doing quasi-dangerous things, I'm doing challenging things and I have someone coaching me to make sure I do them as safely as possible.  If I want to lift heavy, I know I'll have someone to spot for me.  Succeeding gloriously now means finishing a workout.  The only way I can conceive of failing miserably would be not to participate but using a superlative combined with the word "fail" seems middle school dramatic so we won't go there.

Option Not Taken

There was always the option to punk out.

No, not really.  No matter how intimidating the workout looked, I was there.

Push that sled 25 meters and push it back.
Pick up that 50# ball and carry it 50 meters.  Then carry it back.
Sprint 200 meters.

Start all over again.

Oh, do all of this outside in the heat and humidity - on an asphalt parking lot.

Go!

I have eliminated caffeine at least 4 hours prior to a workout.  I thought that might help me with the sensation of my heart pounding out of my chest and also with the very dry mouth.  Nah.

It's not caffeine. It's adrenaline.  I'm fighting and flighting my way through workouts more intense than any I've ever done.

No punking out.   My heart will beat as fast as it needs to and I'll fill my lungs with the air they require.  My dry mouth is a sign that my chemistry is doing what it's designed to do.  To me, the most outstanding aspect of Crossfit is that I'm learning just how hard I can push myself.

So that's easy enough to say about the physical aspect of starting a new program.  It's not quite so easy for me socially.  When a task is completed, there are high fives, fist bumps, pats on the back.  After that sled/heavy ball/sprint workout, a woman remarked that I'm strong.  I immediately joked about my previous marital history and how it made me stronger.

???

Maybe it did but I didn't need to shrug off a compliment by putting myself down.

Lessons learned.   I like it!  Now, I must remember to say this:  "Thanks!"

I'm no punk.

The Heaviness of Fear

Today I completed the 2 week On Ramp class at CrossFit Central Houston. I'm amazed at the amount of learning and change I've undergone in the past 2 weeks.  I've been sore in places I didn't know could hurt.  I'm drinking more water and my diet is much cleaner.  My clothes are fitting better.  My sleep is deeper. Now comes the hard part.  Even with coaching and encouragement, I'm super-hesitant to jump into classes 2 or 3 times a week.  I trust the coaches.  I observed them observing me and I listened as they explained how I can do things better.

I've learned about proper use of equipment and body mechanics.  I've also learned a lot about my state of mind and how it can help or hinder my progress.    

Fear.

It's heavier than any weight in the gym.  It offers more resistance than the thickest of elastic bands.  It looms higher than the highest of pull up bars.

Twice this week I was close to tears while working out.  

The first time, I was feeling a kind of euphoria - I guess.  (The runner's high mostly eluded me in my years of distance running.)  Toward the end of Monday's workout, I was having fun.  The rowing machine is in my wheelhouse.  I felt comfortable with deadlifts.  I was getting the swing of kettle bell swings.  My heart rate was up and I was soaked in sweat.  It felt great!  And then I realized I felt like crying.  Huh?

Today we learned the Clean lift. Let me back up a bit and say that we started off with Wall Balls.  That exercise requires a start from squat and powering up to throw a medicine ball above a painted line on the wall.  Flexibility is something I've steadfastly ignored through my years of running.  Performing a squat is tough for me.  Really tough.  I was moved back to air squats so I could work on my form and depth.  Great!  Or, not.  Ego rears it's ugly head at the most ridiculous times.  I am working hard to allow my gratitude for coaching to outweigh my fear of embarrassment. 

So we move on to the lift.  It's hard, people!   These movements don't come naturally to me.  A major portion of the lift is allowing the bar to move through potential energy and then finishing with kinetic energy.  The control freak part of my brain wants to JUST MOVE THE WEIGHT!!!  Not exactly efficient.  This is a great lesson for me, though.  Muscling my way through the lifts (and through life) isn't good for me.  I want what is good for me.  Awesome!  And now I feel like crying again.  But I don't because I'm just not going to.

Finishing the class, we were given general information on membership.  Fear sat with me in that room.  Here was my verbalized question:  "Does anyone ever repeat On Ramp?"  The answer: "Some people do."  The coach followed with encouragement to keep working, go to classes...step up and face the challenge.

I'm going to let Fear have it's place here.  It exists.  It's been my near-constant companion for over 50 years.  The thing is, it's not beaten me yet.  I can't muscle past it but I can work smart and get the job done.  I'm looking forward to exploring the feelings associated with this new endeavor - emotional AND physical feelings.  

Now where did I put that foam roller?

I've Been in a Snowstorm

So, yeah.  It's been a long time.  I've heard:

"I miss your blog."
"You have a blog?"
"What happened to your blog?"

I've been busy living and (sometimes) running and trying to sort out things too numerous to count.

Resolutions can be strong motivators.  I made one on the first of January last year.  I resolved to be out of my job by the last of December.  You see, I didn't like my job - in ways too numerous to count although I wasn't really doing anything about it.

As the year went on, the count increased along with my unhappiness.  I wasn't sleeping well.  I was gaining weight.  I was losing interest in activities that used to make me happy.  Look up depression in the dictionary.  Doesn't matter which one, any will do.  I was a textbook case.  I was also irritable, struggling very hard to focus, and withdrawn. I was not only depressed, I was burned out.

Several things happened in rapid order:  My job responsibilities increased dramatically without increase in compensation. I lost my lease and had to move immediately. I required surgery (that called for at least two weeks off work and six weeks off running).  My work hours increased on top of the additional job responsibilities.

Do you remember the experiments we did in Chemistry class to demonstrate saturation?  We'd take a glass beaker and fill it with solution, heat it up, stir in another solution - bit by bit - until, Presto!  A precipitate would form in the beaker and we'd document the exact time/temperature/volumes at which we'd created a snowstorm in a glass.    

My snowstorm happened on the twenty-first of November.  It wasn't really that cold outside but when I left a meeting and walked into the fresh air, I knew that I was saturated and that I was doing something.  Finally.

By the thirty-first of December, my resolution was accomplished.

So that's behind me now.

Let's move on.

Remember those six weeks of no running?  Sure made a marathon last weekend seem difficult.  Once cleared to walk, I did. I switched to the half marathon and with very few training miles under my belt ran it anyway.  I'm happy to tell you that I finished and I have the t-shirt.  (And a medal.)

Thanks to my faithful friends and readers who encourage me.  I'm excited about the next chapter(s) in my book.  What's most exciting is that I get to write them every day.  I didn't make a New Year's resolution this year.  Instead, I've made lists - too numerous to count.  

Stay tuned.


©Michelle Scofield, January 22, 2015, All Rights Reserved 

Recap of This Week's Great Things

I've been trying to think of a way to quantify the gratitudes that I've experienced this week. They slide on a scale that's difficult for me to gauge. Just when I think I have an understanding of how thankful I am, something happens to nudge me further along my path of quasi-comprehension.

Rather than try to rank them, I'll put them in a list in more-or-less chronologic order. More-or-less.

I made the decision to do my mid-week runs after work rather than risk ankle-turning morning darkness. Along with this decision came what appears to be some sort of acclimation to 90 degree plus temperatures at 5:30 PM.

My Advil usage has declined dramatically since I started drinking a cup of ginger tea each evening. (I'm steeping fresh ginger for this.) I'm not advocating that anyone ELSE use ginger. It's working for me. It's likely placebo effect. I only know that I was taking an overabundance of Advil and took only 400.mg total in the last week. HUGE change for me.

The cause of my eye problems seems to be...wait for it...age. I've been dealing with red eyes, dry eyes, and problems with blurred vision for several weeks. I threw out all my makeup, I've done all the things I would tell my patients to do, and I saw my eye doctor a couple days ago. I'm not good at making tears anymore. No, it's not a metaphor. After plunking down a hundred bucks for medicine, I'm starting to feel better. I'm very relieved it's not something more serious.

White Linen Nights in the Heights is a huge deal. It's a see and be seen scene notorious for traffic tie-ups. Last night I went to exactly one event at one gallery and I had a great time. I received hugs from my friends, had a glass of champagne, socialized for a bit and then went home. Perfect White Linen Night for me. (See the above paragraph re: age.)

I accepted that I'd have to order a Fitbit in order to comply with upcoming health insurance changes at work. This was a source of grumbling and dragging of heals for me. After receiving the device, I promised myself to use it. (What's one more fitness tracker, right?) I lost it this morning. The kind employees at HEB found it and had it waiting for me at the Customer Service desk. That's like finding a hundred bucks. (Yes, that hundred bucks!) I wrote a glowing letter to HEB. I hope those employees are recognized for helping me. I really do. I am uber appreciative.

I continue to have friendly and interesting people come into my life. Today I met two fascinating guys who write about baseball. Their enthusiasm for the game and for their craft was exciting to see and I enjoyed sharing a cup of coffee with them. I'm encouraged to see people who strive to spend their time working at their passions and living in gratitude.

Finally, I found a gift of a video. It's called "Mile...Mile and a Half". It's a documentary that follows a team along the John Muir Trail. Artists, photographers, videographers, hikers, nature lovers - consider watching this film. It's available on Netflix and it's gorgeous. I watched a little each evening before drifting off to sleep. The colors and sounds are amazing. It made me want to hike. It was that good.

©Michelle Scofield, August 3, 2014, All Rights Reserved

Happy Saturday

2.12 miles 26:08 12:22 pace 45 degrees 11:15am Hermann Park


I've been active at work. More than active. My guess is I've also been banking cortisol at record pace. Not good.

Today started out very cool - actually near freezing. I woke around 6:30am, read a little, then started cleaning. I have clean sheets, clean floors, a clean bathroom. I was waiting for the warmup. The sun streamed into my place, beckoning to me. "Come outside!"

My right heel and forefoot are still stiff. If I admit to truth, they're sore. But not too bad. I took a couple walking breaks and decided not to go such a very long distance. I only wanted to be outside. I wanted to grab a little Happy. And I did. (Oh, and update on my decision not to run the marathon. It was the right one. I went to Austin with a great friend. That was Happy, too.)





©Michelle Scofield, January 25, 2014 All Rights Reserved

A Little Jogging and A Lot of Walking

3:50 pm
61 degrees
3.03 miles
40:40
13:25 pace

I moved because to sit seems to allow the stiffness to congeal.  Tomorrow will be another rest day. The decision is already decided.

Another Finish, Another Shirt

30K  3:55:16  12.37 pace   6:30 am  36 degrees at start  Sugar Land Finish Line Sports sponsored the run.

I waivered.  I bitched and I moaned.  It turned out that I had an alarm set, so I rolled out of bed and rolled my car on out to Sugar Land to be in a parking spot at 5:30. 

Here's what this training and running is coming down to:  Can I do it?  Can I be sick, recovering from injury, seasonally/situationally depressed, fatigued as hell and still do it?

You bet I can.

Because my positive weighs about 1000X more than those negatives I listed above.

Prior to the race, it was pretty cold - make you shiver cold.  I knew restrooms at City Plaza would be unlocked, so I'd have time for my obsessive prerace bladder emptying and I headed for the brightly lit hallway under my old condo.  It turned out to be a comfortable place to wait.  It was filled with friendly runners and we hung out for about 30 minutes, chatting about training and just running in general.  It was a nice way to pass the time. 

I moved to the start line in time to hear the National Anthem and we were off.  After the first half mile, I strained my eyes to check my Garmin.  I was at an 11 minute pace.  Ha!  The start gets me every time.  I backed off.  My plan today was to run a mile and then walk a minute. 

I didn't stick with the plan.  I was just too tired and I was afraid If I started walking too much, I would give in to the fatigue.  My hip flexors were protesting by mile 8.  I was very aware of my deconditioning.  I walked a minute each 15 minutes. 

At about mile 12, a woman to my left asked me about her music.  Huh?  I couldn't hear her music.  It was a No Headphones race.  She had her phone on her left arm and was being very considerate, asking me if her tunes were bothering me.  They weren't but we fell into pace next to each other and started talking.  We finished the race out together, running through the entire thing, walking only to grab a cup of water at the two remaining hydration stations.  Melissa was a sweetie, really positive and funny. 

I feel like she pulled me in for the finish and I'm really grateful. 

That last mile, we were both feeling it.  We kept looking for those final turns and they seemed to be a long way down the road. 

Finally.  We got there.  Her family was waiting for her and her little girl joined her to cross the finish line. 

I looked for the photographer and threw up my arms in an uncharacteristic (for me) victory pose as I crossed.  I appreciate this medal and tech shirt a little more than I usually do. 

I have a baked potato in the oven and filet waits for my dinner.  I'm going to enjoy them tonight.  Happy Sunday, Everyone.  And thanks for the support.  I'm very appreciative of you.

©Michelle Scofield, December 13, 2013  All Rights Reserved

Forced Rest...Now What?

November 29 Wichita, KS 27 degrees 3.02 miles 37:10 12:18 pace

I had heel pain and knew I needed to back off. Back off I have.


Today: Hermann Park 41 degrees 1.78 miles 31:11 Walking for recuperation


I started to have a little, hacky cough on Thanksgiving day. Maybe I caught something on the plane? It would be the fastest moving virus ever heard of.

Anyway...

I ended up sick as a dog. A really, really sick dog.

I wasn't feeling too bad the Friday after Thanksgiving. Still just a little "ahem" kind of cough. No fever. I was able to keep things calm with cough drops and OTC meds. I even went to a movie with my family. Saturday we went to the art museum and I started fading. Fast.

By the time I boarded my plane on Sunday night, I was medicated to the gills (which, by the way felt like they were drowning). I struggled not to cough in my fellow passengers' airspace but I was so flushed and feverish I wasn't even thinking straight at that point. I emailed work and warned them that I would likely not be in the next day.

Since then, when I'm not working, I'm sleeping.

Until yesterday morning when I woke up and realized that my stomach didn't like my prescription medications. Joy. More sleep.

Today feels like I've turned a bit of a corner. I absolutely, positively couldn't sit in this chair, or on this couch, or lay upon this bed one more hour. I bundled up and took a walk in the park.

I've missed it.

I'm entered in a 30K race next Sunday. I'll pick up my race bib. I have no idea if I'll show up for the race. It seems like a lot to bite off at this point.

Everything seems like a lot to bite off at this point but movement felt pretty wonderful. Especially that fresh air. In and out. What a relief.

My only goal for the week is to not be in my head too much regarding worrying about the marathon in January. There isn't a whole lot I can do about it at this point...other than to push myself too hard, relapse, and end up an even sicker dog.

This all makes perfect sense. In black and white. I'll just keep writing, reading, saying it. Even in my sleep, if that's what it takes.




©Michelle Scofield, December 8, 2013 All Rights Reserved

Crockpot Ready Protein Post Run

13.1 miles 2:56:52 13:30 pace 7:00 am 75 degrees


I woke today with no pain so it was up and at 'em. By mile 9, I was aware of my right lower extremity. I'm not going to say I'm at a decision point regarding running the marathon in January. I'm not there yet. I finished the solo half marathon. I'm glad to be home. It was hot and humid as hell today. It wasn't a pleasant run. This isn't supposed to be easy. Or so I've heard.

I have a massage scheduled at noon and I plan to enjoy every moment of it.

Yesterday was a (for the most part) enjoyable day. I got a haircut. I took a spin in my own car with my car guy trying to find the funny noise it's making. We couldn't figure it out but he replaced the wiper blades and he's not a bad guy to hang out with. :)

I had dinner with a dear friend and we're trying to figure our way back to each other.

I'm post-run brunching on homemade crockpot blackeye peas made with:

dry black eye peas (about 2 cups)
salsa
3/4 cup of left over Pappasitos rice
about 3/4 cup of left over Pappisitos pico (onions/tomatos/cillantro)
1/2 cup chopped pancetta
water added throughout the day yesterday - just enough to keep them moistened.

No, it's not precise. None of my crockpot recipes are. It is, however, delicious!



©Michelle Scofield, November 17, 2013 All Rights Reserved

DustBuster

4.06 miles. 49:28:18. 12:11 pace. 4:40 pm. 60 degrees


Increased work responsibilities. Increases patient load. Increased personal stress. Decreased quantity and quality of sleep.

I've been feeling sluggish. I skipped my run yesterday and took myself out to dinner. I felt a strong need to socialize. It seemed to be almost an imperative. If I didn't put on nice clothes and a smile and get OUT, I would crawl into bed with the covers over my head.

Today I needed to move again. I left my gym bag on the corner of my desk all day. It sat there, reminding me of my duty to myself.

The cool air was calming and restorative. I expect to sleep well tonight.

That's my plan. I'm a huge fan of a plans.

30 mile week

15.09 miles 3:11:01 12:40 pace 8:30 am 60 degrees



I used the Nathan Hydration Belt for the first time today. On a long run. I was happy to have water with me and it worked great to carry Gu packs. (I only used one.) It was great to have my hands free. Here's the thing: My gut was distressed - which isn't unheard of for runners. I was relieved that my halfway point was the tennis center at Memorial Park. It seemed that carrying extra weight at my midsection was, um, stimulating.

We'll see.

I came home, showered, ate lunch, and slept for a couple of hours.

Now tomorrow is mine. That's a very good thing.




©Michelle Scofield, November 9, 2013 All Rights Reserved

Beautiful Weather

4.02 48:04 11:57 pace 4:00 pm 66 degrees (shorts and a long sleeve tech shirt)


I ducked out at lunch today and grabbed a Subway sandwich. (Thank you to the transcription team for remembering PA week and sending me a Subway gift card via interoffice mail. Thoughtful gift!) The Subway is next door to a Starbucks. The smell of that yummy stuff wafted over to me and I resisted the urge. I've had exactly two and a half cups in the last month. I feel better for kicking the daily habit.

The cold front that moved into our area is big news today. It's supposed to get down into the 40's tonight and maybe into the 30's tomorrow night. It made for a great run this evening.

Anyway...back to Starbucks. At 11am, the temp was a balmy 68 degrees. For a little minute I thought I was in Seattle. 3 teens were huddled close together wearing felt jackets (one plaid), and wool caps. They were holding cups of coffee and seemed to be freezing. I stopped short of laughing out loud.

Texans.

And now I want to plan another trip to Seattle. :)

Happy Thursday.





©Michelle Scofield, November 7, 2013 All Rights Reserved