How many of you were ever called a monster as a child? I know I was and I know when my mother referred to me as a monster I deserved it. Now I'm starting to refer to myself as a monster.
Have I suddenly become a screaming brat? Did I decide my needs matter and no one else's do? Do I expect the world to adjust to my schedule? No. No. Hells to the NO!
So why "Monster"? I'm a pretty nice person, other people seem to like me. I am not prone to tantrums or angry outbursts. No, it is not because I have decided I love Lady Gaga's music and want to be one of her "little monsters". For the record I do like her music, but it's not that. It was a song that made me decide I want to be a monster though.
Monster is a synonym for beast and I have talked about letting my inner beast out to play when it's time to squat, bench or deadlift.
Last March, when I was coming up to my second powerlifting meet and trying to figure out what I could do to keep the nausea and nerves at bay I decided maybe putting a bunch of motivating songs into a playlist would be a good idea. I asked friends for ideas. Several people suggested "Monster" by Skillet. I didn't think I knew the song, turns out I've been hearing it for years. It is loud with a great beat that never fails to make me want to push harder when I hear it at the gym. I didn't end up using a playlist at the meet, but I think it will be coming with me for November. It's only September, the nerves aren't too bad yet, but people are starting to ask me if I'm getting excited for November or if I'm ready and my stomach sinks. I'll be ready that day, I know how to get it done, but leading up to that day I will doubt, I will wonder, I will likely drive my coaches and friends to distraction with questions. I'd like to tell you as I approach my third meet I am confident I can do this, that I know I'm going to smash my previous weight total, but I'm not going to lie.
Back on track, sorry for that tangent, but if you've read any of this blog you know it happens frequently. Anyhow...let's get back to it.
I think of a beast as infallible. A beast is strong all the time. A beast is confident and never flinches. I aspire to be a beast, but I am not there yet. I doubt, I question and I don't always succeed. In my mind a monster is strong, but there is weakness too. A monster gets it done, but isn't always sure about the outcome. Both monsters and beasts are fierce, but I always think of a monster's fierceness as coming from a different place, from a combination of fear and anger. A beast, I think their fierceness comes from a place of confidence.
I'm working on beast mode. For right now I'm at monster mode and that's a good place for the moment. As I mentioned previously I have plenty of anger right below the surface to work with.
I'm deep in training for November. This week I worked on box squats. First up was a set with just the barbell so I could get a feel for the movement and so Coach Dane could be sure I was getting to parallel. Then he started loading the bar and I'd squat. After I'd squatted 185 pounds he decided it would be a waste of time to go to 225 pounds and opted to get to my working sets of 245 pounds. Squatting 245 doesn't feel that hard normally, but squatting it to the box then trying to be explosive driving it back up was HARD. I'm usually quiet when I work, some people use noise to drive themselves, I am quiet. Not this week, not this time. For the first few rounds at 245 I screamed every time I was driving up. I had to, it felt like I wasn't going to be able to get back up otherwise.
That is the point though: in order for me to get better I need to work hard. I need to come right up to the wall feel it and then I need to dig deep and fight to finish what I've started. The first round at 245 I stopped after 3 reps, racked the bar and wanted to walk away. I couldn't tell you if Dane talked to me or not, I was focused inside letting the monster fight the nasty voice urging me to walk away. Finally I did what Dane frequently tells me to do: I got it together and finished those last 2 reps. Coach Dane knew I had it in me, he knew I could do it: he just had to convince my mind. I finally got into the headspace I needed to be in for the last 2 rounds, but those 5 reps never felt easy. I'm beginning to understand that my training isn't just about developing my physical strength, it's about developing my mental strength too.
Time to let the monster stretch and grow so the beast comes out once and for all. Though I kind of like the idea of being a monster, I might just refer to myself as a monster no matter how much confidence I develop. I don't have to be like everyone else: I have to be me.
So monster it is.
Thanks for reading!
Sunday, September 25, 2016
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Squats and Anger
Hey there!
Look at you being brave enough to come read this post. Great to have you, hopefully this won't devolve into another dark, depressing rant. Did you look at the title though? Seriously, take a look. Yep, you read it right the word anger is in the title. It's okay if you go, really it is. I don't blame you, but the thing is if I don't put this stuff here it takes up space inside my head and I find myself in tears while in the middle of a seated forward fold during Yoga Corr thinking "What the ACTUAL HELL??? Where did these come from?" Interesting point, it is next to impossible to draw a deep breath when you are trying really hard not to let anyone else in the class, instructor included, know that you are crying.
Hang in there if you've decided to read this, I'm going to at least start this on an upbeat note. Well, upbeat for me. Possibly just weird to you unless you share my love of putting really heavy stuff on your back, squatting then getting back up. I keep seeing this quote that squatting is like life it's about getting back up when something heavy tries to bring you down.
So September 1 buddy training time came. I was excited to be going to Pride, I am ALWAYS excited to go to Pride, even when I am nervous about what awaits me on the other side of the door I want to be there. I knew, because I asked Dane the night before at Muscle Hour that I would be squatting. Squatting is good, it's one of my three lifts and it used to be my second favorite, right after deadlifts. Then there was an incident last year when I let my gaze drop for a split second when I was squatting 255 pounds and that loaded bar followed my eyes. It is a horrible feeling to have a barbell on the back of your neck. I did my best not to panic and eventually (probably a very short amount of time though to me it felt like about 10 years) the bar was not pressing into the back of my head and Dane made me do another squat. Since then I approach my squats with a whole lot of trepidation and conscious effort to beat back that mean little voice asking what I'm going to do if I can't complete the squat. Where my eyes go hasn't been an issue since that night, they are glued to the ceiling like my life depends on it. Because let's be real, it kind of does. Yes when the bar gets over about 250 pounds Dane is right there spotting me from behind and if something starts to go wrong I know enough not to try to save it, I need to dump that bar.
September 1 I wasn't anxious about squatting at all I was ready. I figured I'd be working on heavy sets, I didn't know I'd be going for a PR. The bar looked really nice loaded with my new PR, 4 blue 45 pound plates, 2 yellow 35 pound plates and 2 iron 5 pound plates. As I was watching Dane put the 5 pound plates on it occurred to me that the bar was now over 300 pounds, I was well over my previous PR of 275. Of course the bar I squatted prior to that final squat was 295, 20 pounds over my PR and before the 295 Dane had me squat 275 pounds 3 times. I decided I was going to give it a go. I'd make it or I'd fail, either way I was still the same person and Dane would still train me.
So how did that 305 pound squat go? I'll let you be the judge. Personally I watch it and I want to squat lower so there is absolutely no question whether or not I got to parallel. Dane told me I did, I am not so sure, maybe because I got red lighted for my 2nd attempt squat at my last meet. Anyhow...on with the video!
The point is that I squatted 305 pounds. I squatted more than I have ever weighed. Did I know I would make it when I started? No I didn't I had absolutely no idea if I could do it, but I knew I was giving it my best shot.
Where does the anger come in?
Actually the anger never goes away. It is a part of me. I keep it buried, deep down, but it is always there simmering. Something I shared with my father besides the smile and looks. He had a temper too, it took a lot to bring it to the surface, but when it surfaced, watch out. I am finding that I can use the anger that I have tried to keep buried deep and locked away as fuel for my lifts. I love lifting, I always will, but to get that bar to do what I want I can't be sweet, kind and meek. I need to be a beast, a monster. I need to know deep down when I step up to the bar that I can lift it. I need to be confident in my ability, confident in my training and I now know I need to be angry.
It's not enough for me to look at Tyler or Dane and say I'll try anymore. Yes I am strong, but with the weight I want to pull, squat and press now I need to be strong as strong mentally and emotionally as I am physically. The confidence isn't always there, but the anger is. It is amazing what you can accomplish with a little bit of confidence and a whole lot of anger. I am working and training to replace the anger with confidence, but I suspect the anger will always need to be there in some fashion. I might never walk up to the bar and snarl or scream, but that fierce look I seem to have every time I lift heavy: that's what simmers deep within coming to the surface.
No one needs to worry I'm going to unleash the monster in my working life. The monster lives for her time at Pride, thats when she can come out to play or come out to struggle through a workout. The monster came out to play Wednesday at Muscle Hour for Sumo Deadlifts and then stuck around for the power cleans, front squats and push presses. That monster whispered that I had permission to do a different form of front squat and I had done them for a few rounds, but that was quitting and giving in and I was NOT giving in: I was doing front squats the preferred way and I was doing them that way from that round forward. I didn't get from 10 to 1, I was working on my round of 2 power cleans, 2 front squats and 2 push presses when time was called, but I am proud as hell that I got it together and did the majority of the front squats the way Coach D prefers.
Thanks for reading!
Look at you being brave enough to come read this post. Great to have you, hopefully this won't devolve into another dark, depressing rant. Did you look at the title though? Seriously, take a look. Yep, you read it right the word anger is in the title. It's okay if you go, really it is. I don't blame you, but the thing is if I don't put this stuff here it takes up space inside my head and I find myself in tears while in the middle of a seated forward fold during Yoga Corr thinking "What the ACTUAL HELL??? Where did these come from?" Interesting point, it is next to impossible to draw a deep breath when you are trying really hard not to let anyone else in the class, instructor included, know that you are crying.
Hang in there if you've decided to read this, I'm going to at least start this on an upbeat note. Well, upbeat for me. Possibly just weird to you unless you share my love of putting really heavy stuff on your back, squatting then getting back up. I keep seeing this quote that squatting is like life it's about getting back up when something heavy tries to bring you down.
So September 1 buddy training time came. I was excited to be going to Pride, I am ALWAYS excited to go to Pride, even when I am nervous about what awaits me on the other side of the door I want to be there. I knew, because I asked Dane the night before at Muscle Hour that I would be squatting. Squatting is good, it's one of my three lifts and it used to be my second favorite, right after deadlifts. Then there was an incident last year when I let my gaze drop for a split second when I was squatting 255 pounds and that loaded bar followed my eyes. It is a horrible feeling to have a barbell on the back of your neck. I did my best not to panic and eventually (probably a very short amount of time though to me it felt like about 10 years) the bar was not pressing into the back of my head and Dane made me do another squat. Since then I approach my squats with a whole lot of trepidation and conscious effort to beat back that mean little voice asking what I'm going to do if I can't complete the squat. Where my eyes go hasn't been an issue since that night, they are glued to the ceiling like my life depends on it. Because let's be real, it kind of does. Yes when the bar gets over about 250 pounds Dane is right there spotting me from behind and if something starts to go wrong I know enough not to try to save it, I need to dump that bar.
September 1 I wasn't anxious about squatting at all I was ready. I figured I'd be working on heavy sets, I didn't know I'd be going for a PR. The bar looked really nice loaded with my new PR, 4 blue 45 pound plates, 2 yellow 35 pound plates and 2 iron 5 pound plates. As I was watching Dane put the 5 pound plates on it occurred to me that the bar was now over 300 pounds, I was well over my previous PR of 275. Of course the bar I squatted prior to that final squat was 295, 20 pounds over my PR and before the 295 Dane had me squat 275 pounds 3 times. I decided I was going to give it a go. I'd make it or I'd fail, either way I was still the same person and Dane would still train me.
So how did that 305 pound squat go? I'll let you be the judge. Personally I watch it and I want to squat lower so there is absolutely no question whether or not I got to parallel. Dane told me I did, I am not so sure, maybe because I got red lighted for my 2nd attempt squat at my last meet. Anyhow...on with the video!
The point is that I squatted 305 pounds. I squatted more than I have ever weighed. Did I know I would make it when I started? No I didn't I had absolutely no idea if I could do it, but I knew I was giving it my best shot.
Where does the anger come in?
Actually the anger never goes away. It is a part of me. I keep it buried, deep down, but it is always there simmering. Something I shared with my father besides the smile and looks. He had a temper too, it took a lot to bring it to the surface, but when it surfaced, watch out. I am finding that I can use the anger that I have tried to keep buried deep and locked away as fuel for my lifts. I love lifting, I always will, but to get that bar to do what I want I can't be sweet, kind and meek. I need to be a beast, a monster. I need to know deep down when I step up to the bar that I can lift it. I need to be confident in my ability, confident in my training and I now know I need to be angry.
It's not enough for me to look at Tyler or Dane and say I'll try anymore. Yes I am strong, but with the weight I want to pull, squat and press now I need to be strong as strong mentally and emotionally as I am physically. The confidence isn't always there, but the anger is. It is amazing what you can accomplish with a little bit of confidence and a whole lot of anger. I am working and training to replace the anger with confidence, but I suspect the anger will always need to be there in some fashion. I might never walk up to the bar and snarl or scream, but that fierce look I seem to have every time I lift heavy: that's what simmers deep within coming to the surface.
No one needs to worry I'm going to unleash the monster in my working life. The monster lives for her time at Pride, thats when she can come out to play or come out to struggle through a workout. The monster came out to play Wednesday at Muscle Hour for Sumo Deadlifts and then stuck around for the power cleans, front squats and push presses. That monster whispered that I had permission to do a different form of front squat and I had done them for a few rounds, but that was quitting and giving in and I was NOT giving in: I was doing front squats the preferred way and I was doing them that way from that round forward. I didn't get from 10 to 1, I was working on my round of 2 power cleans, 2 front squats and 2 push presses when time was called, but I am proud as hell that I got it together and did the majority of the front squats the way Coach D prefers.
Thanks for reading!
Sunday, September 4, 2016
Goodbye
It's 10:06 pm Sunday, September 4. I went to bed 2 hours ago tired, thinking I'd sleep, but here I am. Still tired, but definitely not sleeping. Why not?
On the surface there is no reason I shouldn't be asleep. It was a busy week last week, school started. I PR'ed my back squat, got my ass handed to me in the many classes I attended at Pride Fitness Performance and in all had a pretty darn good week.
Go just a little below the surface and that's where the trouble lies. I lost a biological parent on August 25. I should say I lost my father, but he didn't feel like my father. A father is supposed to be the one who loves you, right? The one who cheers you on when you do things that are important to you? The one who tells you it's okay, you'll get it next time when you don't do as well as you want to? Yeah, pretty idealistic.
I have that kind of support, from my mother, from my sister and from the best group of friends (or as I think of them "chosen family") anyone could wish for. Hell, I have that kind of support from my coaches, both of whom are 20 years younger than me, not that age has a thing to do with it, but these young men know how you treat people so they feel like they matter. The one person I didn't have that from, the one person I had a right to expect it from is gone now.
I don't hate him, not precisely at least. I know deep down, for I am not a stupid woman, that he loved me the best way he could. I don't understand why he didn't want to hug or kiss me after I was a certain age, his wife tried to explain that one, but given her IQ is just slightly above what is required to grunt it made no sense. I can't tell you why when his second wife informed him that he had a choice his children or her he chose her; though I suspect it was because he was afraid to be alone.
I can use what I know and have learned about human nature to come up with excuses and reasons, but deep down I am still just a little girl wondering what I did that was so heinous that he couldn't show me that he loved me. Intellectually I know it was not me, it had nothing to do with me, but the human heart doesn't exactly work on intellect.
So here I am, at 10:26 pm pouring my heart out in this forum hoping if I dump it here I'll be able to sleep.
I find it odd that I am grieving for someone who didn't attempt to contact me. A friend told me that shows the kind of person I am. Perhaps it does. I am sad, it is sad when anyone you know dies after all. Am I devastated? No. In a sense I went through real grief when I realized I could walk away, turn my back on my father and he wouldn't make any real effort to draw me back in. Maybe he wanted to, but he didn't know how, then as time went on that was just the way things were and if he wasn't happy about it he had no idea how to change it so he let it go. I am grieving quietly with occasional moments of tears, mostly at completely inopportune times, like Inservices, workouts, yoga classes. You get the picture: the person who likes to keep her feelings bottled up and private is letting other people see her vulnerable. This growing and changing is hard work, I don't know if I recommend it.
This explains a lot about why I am who I am. I am insecure, never quite believing people like me. I strive to be perfect, because if I am no one will want to walk away from me. I want to be kind, to make people like me. I am working on being quicker to trust people. With all those things though I am also fiercely rigid. If you hurt me once I will forgive, but the trust is gone and I am going to be honest there is little chance I will trust you again. I understand the way people act and behave is a reflection of them and their lives, not about me at all, but it doesn't change my reaction. If you hurt me by trying to manipulate me or betray me I will close up. On the outside I look the same, I may even be able to pull off acting the same, but inside everything has changed and I am guarding against the next time. Maybe I should change that about myself too and possibly I will, but it will not happen overnight.
This certainly hasn't been one of my normal blog posts, it's been a lot darker and heavier than I like to get in this forum. This might be my place, but I try to respect the people who take the time to read what I write and not get too dark. Really though the dark is as much a part of me as the strength and it deserves recognition. Especially right now. My world has been tipped on its axis a little and I need to get it back on an even keel as soon as I can. I have work to do to be ready to be better than the athlete I was in April and I mean to do that work with every ounce of will and determination my coaches have come to expect from me.
I think I am finally ready to sleep now. Before I go: Dad, I know you did the best you could even if it was not what I needed from you. I am glad you aren't suffering anymore. Rest in peace.
Thanks for reading!
On the surface there is no reason I shouldn't be asleep. It was a busy week last week, school started. I PR'ed my back squat, got my ass handed to me in the many classes I attended at Pride Fitness Performance and in all had a pretty darn good week.
Go just a little below the surface and that's where the trouble lies. I lost a biological parent on August 25. I should say I lost my father, but he didn't feel like my father. A father is supposed to be the one who loves you, right? The one who cheers you on when you do things that are important to you? The one who tells you it's okay, you'll get it next time when you don't do as well as you want to? Yeah, pretty idealistic.
I have that kind of support, from my mother, from my sister and from the best group of friends (or as I think of them "chosen family") anyone could wish for. Hell, I have that kind of support from my coaches, both of whom are 20 years younger than me, not that age has a thing to do with it, but these young men know how you treat people so they feel like they matter. The one person I didn't have that from, the one person I had a right to expect it from is gone now.
I don't hate him, not precisely at least. I know deep down, for I am not a stupid woman, that he loved me the best way he could. I don't understand why he didn't want to hug or kiss me after I was a certain age, his wife tried to explain that one, but given her IQ is just slightly above what is required to grunt it made no sense. I can't tell you why when his second wife informed him that he had a choice his children or her he chose her; though I suspect it was because he was afraid to be alone.
I can use what I know and have learned about human nature to come up with excuses and reasons, but deep down I am still just a little girl wondering what I did that was so heinous that he couldn't show me that he loved me. Intellectually I know it was not me, it had nothing to do with me, but the human heart doesn't exactly work on intellect.
So here I am, at 10:26 pm pouring my heart out in this forum hoping if I dump it here I'll be able to sleep.
I find it odd that I am grieving for someone who didn't attempt to contact me. A friend told me that shows the kind of person I am. Perhaps it does. I am sad, it is sad when anyone you know dies after all. Am I devastated? No. In a sense I went through real grief when I realized I could walk away, turn my back on my father and he wouldn't make any real effort to draw me back in. Maybe he wanted to, but he didn't know how, then as time went on that was just the way things were and if he wasn't happy about it he had no idea how to change it so he let it go. I am grieving quietly with occasional moments of tears, mostly at completely inopportune times, like Inservices, workouts, yoga classes. You get the picture: the person who likes to keep her feelings bottled up and private is letting other people see her vulnerable. This growing and changing is hard work, I don't know if I recommend it.
This explains a lot about why I am who I am. I am insecure, never quite believing people like me. I strive to be perfect, because if I am no one will want to walk away from me. I want to be kind, to make people like me. I am working on being quicker to trust people. With all those things though I am also fiercely rigid. If you hurt me once I will forgive, but the trust is gone and I am going to be honest there is little chance I will trust you again. I understand the way people act and behave is a reflection of them and their lives, not about me at all, but it doesn't change my reaction. If you hurt me by trying to manipulate me or betray me I will close up. On the outside I look the same, I may even be able to pull off acting the same, but inside everything has changed and I am guarding against the next time. Maybe I should change that about myself too and possibly I will, but it will not happen overnight.
This certainly hasn't been one of my normal blog posts, it's been a lot darker and heavier than I like to get in this forum. This might be my place, but I try to respect the people who take the time to read what I write and not get too dark. Really though the dark is as much a part of me as the strength and it deserves recognition. Especially right now. My world has been tipped on its axis a little and I need to get it back on an even keel as soon as I can. I have work to do to be ready to be better than the athlete I was in April and I mean to do that work with every ounce of will and determination my coaches have come to expect from me.
I think I am finally ready to sleep now. Before I go: Dad, I know you did the best you could even if it was not what I needed from you. I am glad you aren't suffering anymore. Rest in peace.
Thanks for reading!
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