Trust

I have a friend who has a different approach to New Year's resolutions. She chooses a word to guide her through the new year. I set goals for myself, but I like the idea of picking a word. My word for the coming year is the title of this post. Trust. How I hate this word.

I hear "Trust the process." over and over again, sometimes it is even me repeating it to myself. Maybe it's just me, but I find it hard to believe things are going to be okay if I'm not in control. Never mind that trusting the process has taken me places I'd never thought I could go, the stubborn part of me clings to the idea that I must be in control. Or I need to feel like I'm in control. I might be stubborn, but I am wise enough to know that most of the time when I think I'm in control that isn't the case at all. The reality is the only thing I can control is me. Sometimes the only thing I can control is my breathing. My face tends to give away what I'm thinking and feeling and my mind runs away with me, often conjuring worst case scenarios even when I know better. Then there's that nasty, mean inner voice whispering I can't do it, whatever "it" might be that voice is there assuring me I'll screw it up. The hardest thing for me is trusting people. I do like to believe the best about people, but only to a certain point. I'd like to be more open and trust without reservation, but life doesn't work that way. I consider it a HUGE victory that I now need the fingers on two hands to name the men I trust implicitly. Not so long ago I only needed one hand and I had plenty of fingers left over. Eric, Tyler, Dane, Ben, Pat, Barry and Lindsay have convinced me there are actually good, kind men in the world. I feel pretty confident in trusting any of those men to help when I need it and give solid advice if I ask. I freely admit that I don't always like the advice, that I will try to negotiate when the opportunity presents itself and there are times my first reaction is a resounding NO! Hey, I'm human...I might want to be wonder woman, but that's never likely to happen. Better to admit that and move on. I bet you're not wondering, but I'm going to tell you anyway why my word for 2017 will be trust. You can always walk away if you don't want to know.
2016 was a remarkable year for straying out of my comfort zone. I participated in two more powerlifting meets, I willingly let someone take pictures of me and I actually asked my coaches to help design a training plan that made sense and wasn't a product of the fear that I was going to wake up one morning at 309 pounds if I didn't spend every second at the Pride Fitness Performance Center (though giving me an air mattress and a small corner in the Asylum isn't a bad idea). Which one of the things on that list do you think was the hardest for me? For me it feels like a toss up between the Be Your Own Hero photo shoot and the new training plan. You can ask Coach Dane how often I try to negotiate with him about when I can train and the number of times he asks me if I worked out earlier in the day when he sees me in the afternoon or evening. The photo shoot was fun. I worried about going and almost didn't walk into Pride that morning, but when I did I was welcomed. Coach Tyler didn't laugh and ask me what the hell I was doing there. No one rolled their eyes or snickered at me. I heard from several people that my facial expression while my picture was being taken was scary, but no one suggested I didn't belong there. I certainly never thought that my picture would end up anywhere besides as my profile pic on Facebook, but when it did I managed to bite back my urge to beg that it be taken down. Other people really seem to like it, so I will silence the inner critic and try to appreciate it as others do. My new training plan brought up a whole host of trust issues. Would Coach Tyler be glad to see less of me? Would Coach Dane get tired of me? Did I really have the potential they thought I did? Would my best be good enough to get me to a national meet in a new federation? Why the HELL did I need a new federation, couldn't I just stay with All Raw and Vermont Powerlifting? Were those three trophies sitting on the shelf at Pride going to my head? Yeah, it was a typical "Kim's being crazy" episode. I have to believe (and yes, trust) given what I know about both Tyler and Dane, that they would be honest with me and neither would have encouraged me to consider a new federation if I didn't have potential. I won't lie: I deeply miss training with Coach Tyler as often as I used to, but I am trusting it is for the best. Don't get me wrong, I like working with Coach Dane: we're pretty well suited to each other. Neither of us is a big talker. I always felt bad for Coach T he did 99% of the talking during buddy training sessions when it was just the two of us. He didn't seem to mind and I was capable of conversation, but I felt bad that I wasn't a more entertaining client. I love buddy training for that reason: Carole is so much more outgoing and social than me. I can be quiet and reserved with no worries. My workouts have required a little trust lately too. A couple of times now at Muscle Hour I've been the only woman in my class. The first time I sat on the bench taking much longer to get ready than was strictly necessary, because I wasn't sure I would measure up to the men. Even though I'd seen Coach D and we'd said hello I truly considered walking out and coming back for 7 pm when I hoped there would be a few more women. I had to remind myself that for most BB work when Coach D posted a weight for the women and one for the men he would also announce "Guys will be using xx pounds...Kim, you're one of the guys". Then there was the "but I don't know them that well...".

The men don't seem to mind working out with me at all. We all go about our business and I get fist bumps when it's over. They're nice men: friendly, kind and ready to offer advice when they see something I could improve. It's probably hard to care what I'm doing when you're trying to grind through 50 pull ups or chin ups and it seems like Coach D if set on killing all of us. So trust is my word for 2017. I need to trust my friends, trust my coaches and yes, I even need to trust myself. 2017 will be full of highs and lows I can't imagine right now and I am willing to extend trust that I have what it takes to show up, stand up and never give up. I trust that I will give the best I have to give when it is required of me. I will trust that what is meant for me will happen and I can't screw it up. Most of all I will trust the process and my training and stay the course. Just because I can't see what's ahead doesn't mean I can dig a hole, hunker down and hide. I'm a Pride Warrior, even if I don't necessarily understand why: I trust the person who gave me that honor. He knows his stuff and I trust him. Thanks for reading!

This is Mine

I have had the opportunity to think about a lot of things since I posted "Gym Mirror" last week. Mostly because sleep hasn't come as easily as I want it to. The new mattress is fabulous, but it won't stop my mind and my mind has been revved up.

I've been thinking a lot about who I am and how I know that. I find it disturbing that most of my identity, most of how I feel about myself and my abilities is because of someone's opinion. Not that it is wrong to listen to what other people have to say about me. Given my inability to see anything but my flaws I think it is important for me to seek advice from others and to see myself through their eyes.

There have been times recently though when I know exactly who I am and EXACTLY what my skill set is and I've been dismissed. That irks me: it takes time, courage and effort to stand up for myself and to be dismissed without any attempt being made to hear what I'm saying or to consider if maybe I might be right makes me more certain than ever that there are changes coming.

This is MY life. The only one I am going to get. I have discovered a passion I intend to pursue as far as I can. I have also discovered that as much as I like my job, it is only a job. It is not a measure of my worth as a human being in any way, shape or form. There was a time, not so long ago, that my job was my only identity and I obsessed endlessly about how I didn't measure up.

Then it changed. I came to a point where I had a choice to make about whether I wanted to close the door on the chapter of my life that started in January 2012 or if I was ready to dig in, fight to overcome some setbacks and show the world I might go down, but I wouldn't be beaten. I sought advice from my coach and a group of my closest friends and I fought. As I fought to find my niche and be the best version of me I could be I went through some unexpected changes.  I found that I cared about my job, I wanted to do well, but if I wasn't perfect it wasn't the end of the world. I discovered I was human and if I was doing the best I could that would have to be good enough.

I suppose in order to continue growing I need to decide who I am for myself. I don't intend to stop asking advice from friends or my coaches, but I need to step up and be an active participant in my life. I have to take the advice, apply it to what I know about myself and forge ahead. I'll probably stumble and fall. I will probably have to make changes I may not want to make, but if I'm not willing to stand up and fight for what I want in MY life I certainly can't ask anyone else to support me.

I have goals in 2017, I talked about those in an earlier post, but the one goal I keep coming back to is wanting to compete in a national powerlifting meet. Coach D tells me I have the potential. Coach T tells me to give it a 100% run. My friends tell me they'll be there with me. Me? I have butterflies and heart palpitations thinking about it. I can't believe I could be good enough to participate in a national meet. I have a 932 pound total for my 3 lifts. Maybe that's not super impressive, but for a 46 year old former couch potato extraordinaire it is a HUGE number and something to scream from the rooftops. When I let the beast out to play she does some amazing things, I've no doubt she would make a good showing and do the Pride proud wherever she goes.

So I may as well commit to it here. I am going to put in the work, I will do what my coaches tell me (there will be whining). I will give the best I have to give to every workout, knowing that my best isn't always the same. I will do everything I can to get a qualifying total for a national meet. We'll see how it all turns out as 2017 progresses, but I have the coaches and the support to get me where I need to be if I put in the work.

Here's to the grind and the gains! Let's do this!

This is me. This is part of who I am. I am a powerlifter.

Thanks for reading!

Gym Mirror

This post is dedicated to Carisa Kerner. The idea is hers and revolves around a conversation we had. I hope I will do the idea justice, I think it is an important one. If I don't this might be the push Carisa needs to start her own blog. It's a topic I've discussed here before, some might even say one I've beaten to death and keep poking at. I can perseverate with the best of them, I've never tried to deny that. So which topic will I ramble on about this time? The reflection we see when we look in the mirror. People tell me how much I have changed, how different I look. I don't see that. I don't know that I will ever see that. I have the new clothes. At the back of my closet, the very back are a pair of jeans I wore in January 2012 when I weighed in and measured for the first time at Ben's Bootcamp. Every once in awhile when the doubts and the negative voice in my head are too loud I pull those jeans out and put them on. I have to prove to myself that my body truly is different. I love that others see muscles when they look at my arms. I see stretch marks, jiggle and flab. I know the sleeves of most of my shirts are getting tighter. One part of me is excited by that because it means my muscles are growing, then I look in the mirror and shudder because all I see is the remaining fat. Maybe I should just stop looking in the mirror at home, maybe I should only look in the mirrors in The Asylum at the Pride Fitness Performance Center. When I look in those mirrors I can look past the flaws, I can see some progress. I see whatever it is my coach has told me to notice or instructed me to do. I look past what disgusts me so much to focus on the task in front of me. I watch videos of myself taken at meets or during training and most of the time I can look past the rolls and flaws and see if the pull was smooth, the squat got to parallel or if I was able to press the loaded bar back up evenly. I said sometimes, there are those other times I watch the videos and all I see are the flaws: the fact that I am moving heavy weight matters little at those times. So, how is the gym mirror so different? Why can I look in the mirrors in the Asylum or the Lion's Den and not be focused on the flaws? No, I'm seriously asking...I have no idea. That's not entirely true. The reality is, when I am at Pride and looking in the mirrors it is not with the purpose of determining if I am remotely attractive it is to adjust my form or see what it looks like when I'm doing an exercise the correct way. Yep, even with the strength there is still a part of me that just wants to be pretty, a pretty big part really . I am strong, I own that and I am proud of that, but I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want to be pretty. If I said I didn't want someone to look at me the way I see my friends' significant others look at them. There, I said it I have the most fabulous friends, female and male, but there are moments I want one person who thinks I hung the moon, who can see past the flaws and unlovable moments. So sue me: I have girly moments too. You'd think that was some sort of shameful secret the way I do my best to shove it down and pretend it doesn't exist. Well, it does exist and gym mirror or not I'd truly like to believe that somewhere out there is some person for me, even if I know I am not ready for this person yet. I might be 46, but I have some growing up to do still. Not sure I did the topic justice Carisa, I certainly hope so. If not, you and I should collaborate and write a follow up, or I'll give you free rein to post a follow up of your own here. Let's end this with a picture I took earlier this week in an attempt to find something about me I like.

Well, here it is. Not a clue where that bruise came from either. 

Thanks for reading!

Looking Ahead, 2016 Version

Christmas is coming...in twenty one days. The house is slowly getting decorated. I am shopping for family and friends. I am also thinking ahead to 2017 and wondering what my goals for the new year will be. I know many of my goals will revolve around fitness, but not all of them.

One goal I want to set for myself, when I decide how to word it so it is measurable and attainable, is using my new-found voice to get my point across in ways that won't offend too many people. Make no mistake, there are times I need to offend people because they need to hear the truth whether they like it or not, but I want to develop the ability to be as kind as possible while being honest. I know some people, a coach comes to mind, who aren't a bit bothered when I am honest in whatever way the honesty comes out at the time, but that's not true for everyone. I can make myself sound quite eloquent when I write: I want to have the same ability when I speak.

I need to work on patience. Wanting it all is fine, wanting it all RIGHT NOW is just ridiculous and a recipe for disaster. My lack of patience has caused me to miss squats I could easily make and nearly screw up my first attempts at deadlifts. In other areas of my life, not being patient often means I make more work for myself. When I don't stop to explore whether a resource exists elsewhere I often end up reinventing the wheel and pouring a lot of time and energy into something I didn't need to.

I don't even want to face up to this third goal...except I need to. I had so many great adventures and wonderful times with friends in 2016 and I tried not to be a part of pictures of these adventures whenever possible. It's not that I'm hideously ugly...at least other people have told me I'm not. I still don't like this body very much, or at all if I'm being truthful. This body is strong for sure and it accomplishes all the things my mind conjures up for it. It is also lumpy, jiggly and in my mind just plain weirdly shaped. I recognize that the picture of me in the welcome area at the Pride Fitness Performance Center is great, but I still cringe when I see it. I respect and trust Coach T though and if he chose that to be on the wall he absolutely knows what he's doing and I'll try to stop obsessing. I said try...let's be happy I am at that point.

No, I am not asking anyone to stroke my ego and tell me I am almost pretty, pretty, beautiful or anything like that. My journey to accepting this body is just that: mine. As much as I'd like someone else to be able to open up my head, scoop out all the negative garbage and leave me accepting what I look like that's not possible. Perhaps a size 10 wrestling boot to the proper spot might work, but I'm guessing that's not a possibility.

What I want in 2017 is to be happy to be a part of pictures with friends. I have friends who take selfies during every adventure and event. Usually I opt out of those sitting as far back as I can. There are times I even strategically plan where I sit so I am not near my friends who like to take selfies. How stupid is that? I mean, really how stupid?! In 2017 I resolve to be a part of more pictures with my friends. No more hiding behind someone else like I did for the end shot of us when we went white water rafting. I finally showed up to the party that is my life, I might as well have some photographic proof of my presence.

So far on my goal list I have speaking up kindly, being patient and being in more pictures of adventures with friends. You all know those aren't my only goals. Since the start of this blog I've had fitness goals and 2017 won't be any different. My fitness goals might be a little more focused this year. I said A LITTLE, neither of my coaches should be rejoicing too much. I know lifting heavy stuff is my wheelhouse, but I can't help but want some other things too. Like a pull up or climbing the new rope in the Pride Training Zone.

So, what do I want fitness wise in 2017? How much time do you have? I'm kidding, well, I'm mostly kidding. I have a lot of goals in mind. The trick is to figure out which of the many goals swirling around in my mind am I going to put down on paper. Coach Tyler and Coach Dane are infinitely patient with me, but I don't think either one of them has any desire to read a many page document detailing every one of my fitness goals for 2017. Coach D would probably tell me to get it together and Coach T would remind me that there has to be balance. They're both right, of course, so let's see what I can do to keep the list manageable.

1. Powerlifting: This was bound to be my number one fitness goal. I might not be the best, I might not be the strongest, but I work hard.
a. Choose a new federation.
b. Pick a meet.
c. Have a total at the meet that will qualify me for a national meet.

2. Three Lift Totals
a. Squat: I exceeded my goal of squatting 300 pounds in 2016 by squatting 305. Working on getting below parallel every time. In 2017 I want to squat 350 pounds.
b. Bench Press: Currently at 209 pounds, still my weakest of the three, but I am making good progress. Now to get that pause down. For 2017 I want to bench press 250 pounds.
c. Deadlift: No secret that this is my favorite lift of all and the least technical. No pause, no depth requirement, just pull that bar smoothly from the floor to lock out. Currently I am at 413 pounds. The goal in 2017 is to pull 500 pounds.

d. Three lift total: Currently my total is about 927 pounds.  If I meet all my goals for the 3 lifts my total will be 1,100 pounds. If my total is higher than that in December 2017 I will be thrilled. I might be underestimating what I can press, squat and pull and I am sure if I am my coaches will let me know it. I can adjust my goals after all: they aren't carved in stone.

3. Rope Climb: Yes, I can get up the knotted rope when I want to, but now I want to climb the new rope and ring the cowbell again. By the end of 2017 I intend to meet this goal.

4. Pull Up: Please, please, please...let 2017 be the year I finally get a pull up. I swear it has been on my goal list since I was a Mooser contestant. Coach T tells me I'm getting close...wouldn't it be nice to try one and have him say I did it? I bet I could get a fist bump for that.


So there you have it, my draft of goals for 2017. I welcome suggestions, advice and assistance in meeting these goals. For my totals I am interested to hear what you think if you feel so inclined to share with me.

You've spent enough of your time on this: go, get on with your day. Enjoy it!!

Thanks for reading!

Proof that I showed up for my life and participated. I love what it represents,
 just wish I didn't want to photoshop the woman in it.

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!

Three Options

Motivate me, support me or get the hell out of my way.

Those are the three option if you want to be a part of my life. I am not a doormat, I am not weak, I am not going to apologize for being myself anymore. I will not spend one more minute of my life feeling bad for being who I am. Not. One. Minute. 

Not to be rude, or a jerk, but this is the reality. I am a people pleaser by nature and knowing people are unhappy with me or don't like me kills me inside. I would rather someone hit me than tell me I've disappointed them. The fact is not everyone is going to like me and really I would rather have people be honest with me than lie to my face. Lying to me used to be fine with me, but Coach Tyler raised my expectations: I expect the people in my life to be honest with me. I will bend over backwards to accommodate and make my friends happy, so asking for honesty doesn't seem like too much to ask. I might be wrong on that point.

Rant over. I'm going to step off my soapbox now. Let's move on and pretend I didn't just lose my mind all over this blog. If you're still here thank you. I'll try to tone down the crazy from here on out. No promises though...but I will TRY.

I am one week out from my next powerlifting competition. My third meet so I should be feeling okay about it. Well what I should feel and what I do feel are two completely different things. I can see Coach Dane's eyes rolling and hear him sigh as I type this. He might even tell me to "Get it together". He might have a point.

Eye rolling and comments aside I am nervous. Excited yes, which is a welcome change, but still nervous. I have the training, but there will still be unknowns to contend with. I could be all warmed up to Bench Press because the meet director said women were going to start bench pressing in about 20 minutes and it winds up being closer to 50 minutes. Things I won't be able to control could happen. You can imagine how much that thrills me. I'll have my coach there, he'll keep me focused to the best of his ability, but he's only one man and I am one formidable bundle of crazy when I get worked up. Fortunately most of the crazy is on the inside and I look mostly normal on the surface. Or according to my friend Jen I look really mean. Let me find some examples and I'll let you be the judge of whether or not I am scary.

A recent pic from the Asylum  at Pride (courtesy of Tyler Tinker). Okay, so I do look scary in this one. I love it. 

My photo from the "Be Your Own Hero" photoshoot. I do look fierce, but I don't think I'm scary.

My first meet. Someone told me I look fierce in this picture. The truth is I'm wondering if I have time to go vomit before I have to step on the platform. The coaches look pretty fierce though, love those guys.

Okay, so I probably do look scary. I am not though. Truly, I am a nice person, but I am intense. At a meet I am focused on what I need to do and until I've done it I don't let myself relax. I have a job to do and it consumes every bit of my attention. I try to smile, I will accept hugs and I try hard to carry on intelligent conversations. Sometimes I am more successful than other times. 

Do I have expectations for next Sunday? Yes I do. I expect I will be better than I was in April. I expect to have a good time with great people. I do have other expectations, but most of all I want to beat the woman I was in April: that is my ultimate goal. I want to make the time my friends will take out of their day to watch me worthwhile for them.

Thanks so much for reading!

Checking In

Have you ever wished you could have a talk with yourself? Just sit yourself down and make sure you're okay and happy. Everything looks fine on the surface, but just below the mask is something else entirely.

Yes, I know it's probably just me. Who would I be if I didn't over think? I like control, I'm not going to lie about that. In fact, control is very important to me. One of my goals, until very, very recently has been to ALWAYS be in control.

Then I became interested in fitness in general and powerlifting in particular. For a year I resisted the increasingly frequent advice and reminders that I was only human, that my schedule was not helping me maximize my strength and I needed to find balance. I nodded, I said "I know" and I continued doing just what I was doing before. Coach T and Coach D must have the patience of saints not to have throttled me.

What happened to change my mind and make me decide that it was important that I really listen and really change.

My father died. It's as simple and as complex as that.

Don't worry, I won't be rehashing my lack of a relationship with him. It was what it was and it's much too late to change it now.

No, what really struck me after he died was that I don't know if he was happy with the life he lived. Did he do the things he wanted to in life? Did he look forward to his days or were they just something he had to get through? I know from my vantage point he never seemed happy. Maybe I'm wrong, actually it's extremely likely I am wrong, but my gut says he was not happy.

I decided in the days after I got the news that things had to change. I had to change.

Why?? By all appearances I am happy, reasonably successful and mostly competent. I had two powerlifting meets under my belt and was preparing for a third. I had a workout routine I loved and coaches I trusted completely. I had a dream, but it seemed too far-fetched and ridiculous to invest in.

Sure Coach D told me he thought I had potential to go far as a powerlifter, but he was my coach. Isn't his job to stroke my ego a little so I don't stop working? When Coach T told me after both of my meets that he was proud of me, wasn't that just him doing his job? If you know Coach D or Coach T at all you know that neither one of them will say something they don't mean. If either of them tell me I've done well it is the truth. When they say they are proud of me those aren't just words: they are the truth.

Would I have decided to pursue my dream if my father were still alive? Eventually I am sure I would have. This dream scares me so at some point I would have gotten sick of being afraid and pursued it. Wondering if my father had truly lived the life he wanted was a push to go after my dream earlier.

So here I sit on a Friday evening two weeks and a couple days from my next meet. The anxiety is there, but it has a different feel this time. I'm not feeling nauseous or scared this time around. I just want to be there. I want it to be Sunday, November 6 at 9:00 am. I want to be standing in front of the squat rack on the platform with Dane and my friends watching. I want to see how far my training, skill and adrenaline will take me that day, maybe as far as a 1000 pound total for the meet. I will text friends unable to be at the meet and let them know how it is going.

 I want to watch other friends lift and cheer for them. When the meet is over I want to go out for a celebratory shot and meal with the people who came to support me.

The work won't be over when November 6th has come and gone. Maybe I'll bring more hardware to Pride for a place on the shelf. Hopefully I'll be able to tell Coach T I made it to 1000 pounds.

After Old School Iron Wars I will be looking for a new federation and new challenges. In 2017, I would like to qualify for a national meet and stand on a much larger platform.

A far-fetched dream perhaps, but it is my dream and I am not content to wonder if I could do it. I need to know the answer.

Checking in with myself I find a mentally tired woman. Eight hours of parent teacher conferences will do that to you. Then trying to compose a coherent, mostly grammatically correct blog to top it off. There is also some physical tiredness from a Flex Friday workout. Deadlifts and bench presses are among some of my favorites, but they will never be classified as easy, not even with "baby weight". Lighter weight just means I must focus more on my form and making sure it is spot on every rep.

Am I happy? Yes, I am. Not every moment, not every day, but at this moment in time with my boxer snuggled against my side and plans with friends for tomorrow evening I am happy and more importantly: I am content.

Thanks for reading!

Leaps and Bounds

Hey, it's me again! I should be writing lesson plans for next week, but I wanted to write intead. Lucky, lucky you.

I've been quiet for a bit. Not because I've had nothing to say, but because I've been busy and trying to decide how to say what I wanted to say. I'm still not sure I know how or have the talent to put the right words to my thoughts and feelings, but I'm going to try.

Let's start with the biggest event in my life: the new Pride Fitness Performance Center. OMG... seriously: OMG! I have no idea how Tyler and Dane got it all done. I know they had help, but still...it is AMAZING! So huge, so new and still familiar and comfortable. That was my biggest worry. When I walked in Monday morning October 3 I must have looked like a kid on Christmas day taking everything in. I didn't hug the walls or anything, but I could have. I brought my two trophies back and Tyler showed me where to put them. I can't imagine he'd had any sleep at all in a while, but he was obviously proud and excited to share the new space.

My favorite space is The Asylum. How could I not love the space with the plates, barbells and a whole lot of dumbbells? There are plenty of villains and heroes there too to inspire the monster or beast within.

After class on Monday I approached Tyler and Dane and asked if there was a time in the next couple of weeks we could meet to discuss my training. Before I could say anything I got a hug from Tyler. It just about got the tears flowing, but I mustered my strength and kept it in. Then I asked if there was time the three of us could talk. Tyler suggested Thursday and I agreed. It worked perfectly: I had a meeting in Newport that afternoon and would be done about 3:30 so I could come early.

Thursday afternoon came and I got more and more anxious as the time got closer. I can remind myself a million times that change is good, but when I am faced with it I worry. The conversation was fine. Dane outlined his thoughts for me and when Tyler came in he looked over Dane's thoughts, they talked a bit and I had a new training plan. Not much changed on the surface, but in reality everything changed. I told Dane I was fine with change, I would follow his advice and recommendations, but I was not willing to lose my training time with Tyler. I agree my training needs to get more specific, but I also need the conditioning, core and mobility work. Besides I like Tyler: I want to spend time with him learning from him. I want the best of both worlds and it seems both of them wanted me to have that too.

Here's my new training schedule, just in case any of you are curious.
Monday: 5:30 am Pride Fit Group Training with Tyler
Tuesday: 5:15pm Personal Training with Dane
               7:15 pm Yoga Corr with Tyler
Wednesday: 6 pm Muscle Hour with Dane
Thursday: 4:15 pm Buddy Training with Dane
Friday: 5:30 am Pride Fit Group Training with Tyler
                                         OR
             6 pm Muscle Hour: Flex Friday

The hardest for me so far has been Friday. The first week I went to Pride Fit class and felt weird not going to Flex Friday. This week I chose Flex Friday and missed Pride Fit even more than I imagined I would. I missed the 5:30 am crew: I have worked out with many of the people in that class since I started working out and I missed them. I missed starting my day in the way that feels normal. ]

I understand I need to work more on my big three lifts for the upcoming meet and my future goals. I am beyond thankful and grateful that Tyler and Dane are willing to work with me and design a program that will give me the opportunity to see if I have what it takes to be on a national platform some day. As Tyler said if that is what I want I need to give it a 100% run. Perhaps I am never meant to be on a national stage, but I refuse to wonder about it: I'm going to give it my all and have the answer. Deep down I think I have what it takes for a national competition, but we'll see.

For the moment I am focused on November 6 and being the strongest, best athlete I can be on that day. After that I will ponder the future.
           
Dane told me recently that I have grown leaps and bounds since he started working with me. He is the one who first suggested powerlifting to me. He is one of my biggest supporters and he pushes me to be better every time I train with him. He keeps telling me that I need to be confident in my abilities. He and Tyler keep upping the ante and expecting I am going to deliver.

Wednesday night at Muscle Hour we were flipping the 475ish pound tire and after I finished 5 flips Tyler was standing in the doorway to the Asylum and he mentioned "the beast" was waiting for me. The beast turned out to be the 525ish pound tire. I have flipped that thing before and jammed the middle finger on my left hand doing it. When I realized what Tyler was talking about I wasn't so sure I was waiting for the beast. I flipped the 475 several more rounds and then decided it was put up or shut up time. I went into the Asylum and watched someone else flip the beast.

Then it was my turn. One of the hardest things about flipping the 525 pound tire is that there seems to be about one spot on the tire you can get a decent grip. I didn't find that spot, but I wasn't letting it go. Tyler was right there encouraging and coaching, he might even have helped me, I'm not sure but I flipped it and didn't jam any fingers this time. Then I got a fist bump. Yeah!! Love those.

Just one more thing and I will let you get back to your regularly scheduled life. For the last several nights I've had a recurring dream. Not a recurring dream really, but one person keeps recurring in my dreams: My father. He hasn't said anything, he is in the background just standing, just watching. The first night it irritated me. I don't remember what I was dreaming, but I was irritated that he was there. Last night I dreamed I was at Pride, in The Asylum, doing what I do best: deadlifting. He was there, in the corner, by the whiteboard that used to have Muscle Hour members' PRs for deadlifts, squats, cleans and presses. He was quiet, he just watched. Tyler and Dane were there too, coaching, cheering me on (I heard "Pull that BAR!" a lot) and when I was done I looked up and my father smiled. Then I woke up.

I am choosing to believe these dreams have been his way of checking in. Maybe he wishes he'd made an effort to understand me when he was alive. I don't know if that's true, I am not interested in speculating, but if he wants to check in from time to time I don't mind. I don't have anything to say, whatever I wanted to say was said in a letter no one will ever read that I wrote and destroyed in Spetember. It is time I move forward and move on.

I am strong, I've always been strong and now I need to gather that strength, move forward and bring every bit of who I am to bear on November 6. I may not set the world on fire, but there will be no doubt that I gave everything I had to give when the meet ends.

One last thing, a couple of pictures then I'll let you get back to your life.

Deadlifts in The Asylum with the Joker watching. I like how it looks like the bar is bending. Photo courtesy of Tyler Tinker.

Isn't that sweet? The barbell kissed me. Bruises from front squat work designed to make me more explosive driving out of the hole when I squat.

Thanks for reading!

My wheelhouse

What a week!

The final two days working out in the old Pride Fitness Performance building. I am excited to see the new Pride Fitness Performance Center, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sad too. My journey started in that building. I was comfortable there. Even I am wise enough to know that things have to change in order for me to keep growing. So I cried all the way home from Yoga Corr last Tuesday night, I think it is okay to be sad for what's changing at the same time I am excited for what's ahead. When I really think about it rationally the only thing changing is the location: I will still have my coaches and my friends will be there. So my sadness is more about letting go of the familiar than anything else.

Handling change like a sane, rational adult is not in my wheelhouse.

It was Open House at school this week too. As a special educator I never see many parents during the evening so this year I volunteered to help out at the book fair. I got to be a cashier again. I discovered I am no longer suited to being a cashier. Teaching was a much better career choice. Not that I couldn't do it, not that I didn't do it, but I should have set my FitBit to measure the time as a workout, because I am pretty sure my heart rate stayed up the entire time. It was like working retail on Black Friday or on Christmas Eve. Fortunately everyone at the book fair seemed patient and kind.

Being a cashier might be in my wheelhouse, but I don't necessarily like it.

I had a lot of free time this week with no Pride workouts from Wednesday on. If this blog had a soundtrack you would now start to hear some anxiety provoking music. What did I do you ask? Well I did some research....okay I did a lot of research. Seriously people, I need a keeper...I should not be allowed free time: I don't use it well.

What did I research you might be wondering. Or you are just resigned to the fact that this is my blog, and I'm going to tell you whether you care or not. I researched powerlifting federations and choosing your attempts for a powerlifting meet.

First the federations. Why look for something new when I am almost comfortable with Vermont Powerlifting? Sometimes no matter how much I hate change even I have to admit it is necessary. I realize I have only been powelifting for a year, I have two meets under my belt and one looming. I know the nausea and nerves will not be improving if I join another federation.

So knowing all that WHY the hell would I be looking at a new federation?

I want more. I am not content to stay where I am. I have spent far too much of my life wanting more and not daring to go for it. I am not going to do that anymore. If I am not willing to work through the discomfort of change and reach for what I want why should Tyler or Dane give so much of their time and expertise to train me? Why should the friends who come to my meets continue to come to cheer me on?

Maybe I am at the top of my game and I've gone as far as I can with powerlifting, but I'm not content to just assume that: I want to know for sure. I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering: I want to know. My dream, my goal is to compete in a national meet. I want to see how I measure up to other women my age. I want to see some of the powerlifters I read about in person and watch them lift in person.

As for researching how to pick meet attempts that I was mostly curious about. I know how to do it: Dane told me before my first meet and he picked my attempts for me for my first and second. This time I want to show him my thoughts and get his input. I want to show him I've grown. I've decided after all I read I am just going to pick based on the format he told me about. I read everything from your only goal should be to go 9 for 9 even if you don't PR to go for broke on your third attempt leave everything on the platform.

Handling free time is not in my wheelhouse either.

So what exactly is in my wheelhouse?

I rediscovered that on Saturday. I joined 3 of my friends and Coach Dane at Fortitude Fitness Systems in Lyndonville to participate in Deveney's Decathalon, a fundraising event to support one of the most caring, giving women I know. One of the events was Deadlift. You know I entered that one.

The thing is that recently being behind a loaded bar doesn't feel comfortable. There has been a lot of upheaval in my life since August 25 and it has absolutely impacted me and my training. No, I was not close to my father, in fact we didn't have a relationship at all, but he was still my Dad. I still have to process his death and weave it into the fabric of my life. I still lost a parent.

Yesterday to warm up I loaded the bar with 135 pounds and stepped up to it. I got set and I pulled. It felt good again, it felt right. It felt like coming home. Dane reminded me to get closer to the bar, I put more weight on and pulled again. It felt wonderful. Dane and I discussed me wearing my weight belt. I hadn't planned on it, but I know I need practice to get comfortable with it so in November it is just an extension of me like my Chuck Taylors and the long socks. I put it on and lifted. Before my first pull with it Dane had to remind me to bring my hips up a little. For some reason I put the belt on and I want to squat before I pull. Who knows why...I have learned not to ask, just retrain my body

Then warm up was over and it was time to compete. I had to lift each of my attempts 3 times. My third attempt was 305 pounds and it felt so easy. Adrenaline is a fabulous thing. I was home. I knew what to do: I chalked up, I stepped behind the bar, I set my feet, I set my body and hands, I stared through the opposite wall and I pulled. Later, when I watched a video I heard Coach Dane tell me it was simple and another time that it was baby weight at the time all I heard was my heart thumping along in my chest.

Another friend told me she has never seen me smile as big as I do after I lift. Later on one of my best friends told me I was a master deadlifter (MASTER deadlifter, to copy her words) and another friend told me it was an honor to watch me in my wheelhouse.

It's true, I have a wheelhouse. Deadlifting specifically is in my wheelhouse and to a lesser extent, but something I intend to work on: squatting and bench pressing are in my wheelhouse.

I. Am. A. Powerlifter. I am most at home behind a loaded barbell and that is a wonderful thing.

I have been at this party for a year now, but I've been a wallflower. No more. I am strong. I will ROAR. I will leave no doubt that I have skills. I am home.

Thanks for reading!

Monster

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!

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!

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!