Almost Pretty

If you are a friend of mine on Facebook you've seen the post I wrote on Friday about a remark someone decided to make to me on Thursday. If for some reason you missed it a person I don't know well and don't particularly like told me that I would be almost pretty if I lost 80 more pounds.

Had I not been with one of my students I might have had quite a bit to say about that particular comment. I can guarantee that almost none of it would have been appropriate. Due to the presence of children and that fact that I believe it is my job to be a good role model for students I smiled and walked away.

I'd like to be able to tell you it didn't bother me at all. I could tell you that, but I might as well be honest. It pissed me off and it hurt my feelings. I was a bear the rest of that day. When I got to Buddy Training I was beyond angry. Good thing there was 12 minutes of prowler rows and pushes or I might have snapped. I pulled that sled with everything I had and a couple of times the front end came up off the floor, but I was still furious. There were back squats, 2 warm up sets of 10 each and then four rounds of 20 reps with 85 pounds. I focused on my form and tried to push the comment out of my head. Then the finisher, 3 miles on the bike with a band around my knees. I don't love the bike, but normally it doesn't make me contemplate homicide. Coach Dane came over to see how my buddy and I were doing when I'd reached about 2 miles. She was friendly to him. I glared and told him to just walk away. I don't think he took it personally, he was laughing as he walked away, but it bothered me to be so mean. That's just not me.

Later that night I did message Coach D and ask him if he can help me develop a whole new body in 2017. I told him why as well. He told me that was a ridiculous comment but agreed with "Let's do it". I also told my buddy because I was really hoping I would be able to let it go.

It didn't work out that way and when I walked into Pride Friday morning I was tired and loaded for bear. The beast was raging and all I wanted to do was step behind a loaded bar and lift the shit out of it ( "Lift the shit out of the bar" has to be one of my all time favorite Coach D quotes) and I did my best while we were deadlifting. The deadlifts and heavy prowler pushes during the strength portion of the workout soothed the beast enough for me to maintain some semblance of control.

Then I got to work Friday and I was through. I was done trying to pretend those words didn't sting and that I wasn't completely pissed off so I composed my post.

The response to that post was gratifying and a little overwhelming. I just wanted to unload the anger, but I guess it struck a chord with many other people as well. Thank you to everyone who took the time to respond to that post: I appreciate the offers of hip checks, wrestling boots to the face and reminders that the person who said that has a right to her opinion, but it has no bearing on my life.

I'm putting that comment to rest once and for all tonight. It has taken up space in my mind for too long.

To Whom It May Concern:

Let's get one thing straight from the start: I KNOW I AM STILL FAT ACCORDING TO SOCIETY'S  STANDARDS. I can do something about that. Your bad manners and lack of tact might be much harder to fix.

You seemed very interested in numbers so let me share a few with you.

Since I started this journey I have lost a total of 82 pounds.

I have some other numbers that make me even more proud and I'll share those as well. Not because I need to "toot my own horn" but because these numbers mean a great deal to me.

Deadlift: 413.36 pounds
Bench Press: 209.44 pounds
Squat: 303.13 pounds

Three Lift Total: 925.93 pounds. I am 46 years old I have that total and I am NOT done yet. Just ponder that for a moment.

I can also flip the 525 pound tire and push the prowler with a couple of coaches, a couple of 45 pound plates and some kettle bells on it.

Those numbers mean more to me than a number on a scale ever could.

As for "almost pretty". Excuse my vulgarity, but Bitch please. I don't care if you think I'm pretty or not. I don't strive to be pretty. I never have, I never will.

Let me tell you what I do strive for:

1. I strive to be strong: I work hard to be better and stronger. I have changed my lifestyle, I have changed a training schedule I was quite comfortable with so I could improve my strength. I will be strong because I have been weak and afraid. I love what I do and I will do it until they kick me out of Pride.

2. I strive to be kind: My grandmother told me growing up that "pretty is as pretty does". I don't want to have a face and body that look good and be ugly inside. I want to be me. I want to do simple little things for the people I care about because I can. I want to smile and be polite to all I meet, even those who insult me. Even you.

3. I strive to make a positive difference: I want to do my small part to make it possible for people to discover the joy of working out and transforming their lives if that is what they desire. I want to contribute to helping people reach their dreams if it is within my power. I want to pay forward the kindness shown to me.

Would it be nice to be pretty? Maybe, but if I had the choice of being pretty and it meant I would lose all the qualities that are important to me it wouldn't even be a choice.

I choose to be ME and if that is unacceptable and repulsive in your world then so be it. I do not need to be a part of your world. You will be welcome in mine should you wish to keep your nastiness and negativity to yourself. I won't hold a grudge. I won't hate you. I don't want revenge I feel sorry for you. I am surrounded by people who care about me and support me for who I am. People who seem genuinely happy when I am around and seek to include me in their plans. I hope you have that as well but I suspect, based on your words, that you do not. I am sad for you, but I will not let your words destroy me and all I have worked so hard for.

I have plans and goals for 2017. Perhaps they won't all come to fruition, but I am going to give them a 100% run and see how far I can go.

Respectfully,
Me.

For every person who left a comment or response to my post Friday: thank you. To those who talked to me in person: thank you. Each and every one of you mean the world to me and your support has been heartwarming.

Now get back to your day. I'm stepping off my soap box and putting this incident to rest. It was a blip in my journey and I think I handled it well. It was noise that will fuel my quest for PRs and my determination to reach my goals. I will use it to make me better, it will not diminish me.

Thanks for reading!

The Dog or the Fight in the Dog?

You know that saying that is attributed to Mark Twain, “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog”? I have a question. No seriously, I have one.

What if both are important?

One day past Old School Iron Wars and that is something I have been thinking about since well before the meet. I’m a big woman, no sense denying it because it’s true. I take up space and a good amount of it. More than that though I have a tremendous amount of fight inside. I might be quiet, but don’t think I am not a fighter. You may have heard watch out for the quiet ones before and it’s good advice. I may not say much, but I am not complacent and content to stay the same. I’m not who I want to be when I grow up yet.

I can’t just give up and walk away. I may walk away, but that shouldn’t be taken as a sign that I’ve given up. Walking away allows me to gain perspective and sometimes I have to be told in a rather stern voice to walk away.

Most recently the order came while I was squatting. Not my favorite back squats, but front squats so I could practice exploding out of the hole. I may have mentioned before that I don’t like front squats, so to be told I was going to do them wasn’t welcome news. Coach D did put chains on the bar so that was fun. Plus to me there is just something that looks super badass about doing anything with chains on a bar. Yeah, I really do need to get out more.

Anyhow, back to the story. There I was, I don’t know how many reps into a set and I tried to come up from the squat and just couldn’t make it. Since the entire set felt like it had been something close to the worst set I’d ever done I didn’t take that well. I do believe I screamed an obscenity and hit the bar.

Side note: Don’t bother to hit a barbell. It won’t feel it and you’ll end up with another bruise to remind you that your common sense is lacking.

Then the worst happened, my eyes started to well. Oh good, tears…because coaches just love tears and they add to the humiliation. Coach D is good, he looked at me, didn’t bat an eye or blink and said in a matter of fact voice “Take a walk”. I was probably gone longer than he expected, but when I came back I finished the set with a lot more success and went on to at least one more.

So what happened on that “walk”? I found the fight. Yeah I was doing something I don’t do well, I wasn’t excelling, but that didn’t mean I could start crying and walk away. Quitters walk away: I am NOT a quitter. I had to look at myself in the mirror stare at the red nose and cheeks, the swimming eyes and remind myself there was so much more fight inside.

There was a point during the meet on Sunday I almost forgot the fight inside and walked away. I failed my first squat. Nothing more serious than not getting to depth, but in that moment I was sure it was a sign I was going to suck all day. My friends would be disappointed in me, but at that moment it didn’t matter a bit: I wanted to leave.

One of my very best friends was acting as my coach and she met me at the table where I needed to give my next attempt. She suggested I try the same weight again and I said no, I wanted to go up, maybe not as much as Coach Dane and I had planned, but I was going up in weight. Her thought had merit and I considered it, but I knew what I had to do. I had to go up in weight, I had to SLOW down and I had to make my next two attempts the best squats I had ever done. I gave my second attempt and then I stepped back and observed. I watched the other women squat and I noted the results.

My second attempt came and I walked to the platform focused on what I had to do. I set my grip and got under the bar, no more games I told the nasty inner critic and I brought the bar up. The inner critic wanted me to focus on the spectators, mostly people I didn’t know. I told her no more of that. No more games, no more worry. No. More. Then I took my steps back, because contrary to what I wanted to believe at my first meet, you can’t actually squat if you are still in the rack: it just won’t work. I let the weight settle on my back and reminded myself this was less than I have squatted at Pride and I had more spotters than I’d ever had at Pride: if I got in trouble they would take the bar and I was safe. Then I nodded. I got my command and I squatted. It felt maybe a fraction of an inch deeper, but it was enough and it was declared good.

Time for the third attempt weight selection. I was pretty sure I could PR, but not 100% positive, so I opted for a “safe weight”: 303.13 pounds. I’d done more at Pride, but it was close to my current PR of 305 and I wanted to build my confidence. Attempt three went off without a hitch and the beast stirred. I really have to learn to get her going before the meet starts…

Bench Press was next, unarguably my weakest event, though I’m making nice gains with more specific training and one session a week dedicated to bench pressing. There are moments during those training sessions I’d gladly bench press Coach Dane to make it stop, but all the training paid off and I set a new PR of 209.44 pounds. The beast came to for real during that third bench press. I felt like someone flipped a switch. I joked with Dane that I nailed that attempt because my favorite lift was next. I nailed that attempt because there was no way I was missing it. Maybe it’s egotistical, but I knew I could do it. I was going to show Coach Dane the time he has invested in training me was worth it.

On to the Deadlift and the beast was roaring. She wanted out and she wanted out in a big way. No secret that the deadlift is my favorite lift. My first attempt was a little rough. I have a bad habit of rushing. So far it hasn’t been catastrophic, but I need to stop it before it backfires in a big way. The second attempt was much better and my third attempt felt the best of all three pulls. I set a new PR of 413.36 pounds yesterday. I probably had more in me, but I wasn’t 100% positive that I did so I stuck with something I was pretty sure I could pull. One of these times I will throw caution to the wind and just go for it. I don’t have anything to lose. Go big or go home, right?

One year ago I entered my first powerlifting meet. Yesterday I completed my third. Now I’m looking ahead, deciding on a new federation with the help of my coach and continuing to train so I can be even better and more confident when I stand on the platform the next time.

You all know I want to get to a one thousand pound total so where do I stand now?

Squat: 303.13
Bench Press: 209.44 pounds
Deadlift: 413.36 pounds
Meet total: 925.93 pounds

The total for my PRs is 927.8 pounds. I am closing in on 1000 pounds. I’ll get there.

Now a few pictures and I’ll let you get back to your evening. There is a lot of fight in this dog. Stay tuned.

Post meet photo with my Coach, Dane Martin. He's an amazing guy.

Deadlift PR of 413.36 pounds. The bar looks like it's bending to me. LOVE THAT. I was also letting out quite a yell at this moment.

Thank you for reading!