Comfort

I am a HUGE fan of comfort zones. I do know I won't grow if I don't step outside what's comfortable for me, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it. I am trying not to whine, but I wish I could find a way to grow and become who I want to be without stepping outside what is comfortable for me.

It's been a big week of stepping outside of what makes me comfortable. Going to conferences and learning new techniques and strategies is part of being a good teacher. I like to attend conferences so when the opportunity to attend the BEST Institute at the Killington Grand Resort came up in the Spring I asked to be included. I learned so much in the four days of the conference, things that will help me as a professional and things that I need to work on personally.

The team I was with worked hard. I tried to work hard too, but Tuesday was a rough day. I was over two hours from home, my cat, Eeyore, was sick and I felt like a fraud. I like to think I am an adequate special educator, but I am not a public speaker or a leader. My principal was there I wanted to show her I could be a leader, but it wasn't in me. I cried a lot on Tuesday: I was worried about my cat, homesick, missing my workouts and trying really hard to be a good team member. I swear every time we had a break or slowed down I was staring at the ceiling and blinking back tears, or not blinking them back. It got to a point where I dreaded needing a bathroom break because I knew the instant I was alone there would be tears and I'd have an overwhelming desire to run. Fight or flight I guess and I prefer flight.

Should you want to know the Killington Grand Resort has a nice fitness center. I visited it Monday and Tuesday and spent some time running (with some tripping) on the treadmill, using the elliptical, riding the stationary bike and using the rowing machine. Then did the "little" core circuit Tyler gave me to work on. I also did the core circuit Wednesday and even added a 2 minute plank at the end to see if I could do it when Tyler wasn't there encouraging me to hold on. I can do it, not sure my form was perfect, but given the trembling in my abs and quads I'd guess my form wasn't too bad.

I lived through it, so did the rest of the team. We have more work to do, but we accomplished more than I would have believed we could. I wasn't a leader, but I didn't need to be. I worked when I needed to work and that to me is what counts. To the people who think I have leadership potential thank you, but I'm not seeing it yet.

This morning I was back at Pride Fitness Performance. The workout was a team workout. Partners had a series of exercises to complete together. There was a Warrior Carry. Cool, I love the warrior carry. Oh wait, my partner was going to have to carry me? Seriously? CARRY ME?!? (Cue anxiety)

A million different questions ran through my head: Was Tyler trying to kill my partner? What was I going to do if my partner couldn't even pick me up? Would I be able to shake it off and make a joke of it or would I cry? My partner for this workout was Eric, the person I did the Warrior Carry with at Tough Mudder. I knew I could carry him, but I refused to let him try to carry me at Mudder. He assured me he could do it this morning and I bit my tongue, swallowed the doubts and fear and let him try.

I'm not going to say it was easy: there is a lot of me to lug around, but he did it. He told me that I worried too much when we switched and I carried him.

There's another thing I come up against that is far outside any comfort zone I might have: having my picture taken. Tyler takes a lot of pictures of our workouts. I think it is great to be able to relive the workouts by looking at pictures and I usually look at the photos and hope he hasn't taken any of me, or if he has I am waaaaay in the background, like he's by the Pride logo on the wall and I'm across the gym in the weight cave.

A little while ago, I noticed he'd posted pictures of the team workout. I loved them, seeing my friends flipping tires, carrying each other, sprinting, jumping hurdles and the pictures of the tug o'war. Then I saw it. It was black and white and I was carrying Eric. I won't deny it's a great picture, but that doesn't mean I like being in it. It takes me time to look at pictures with me in them and not cringe. There have been some pictures I've seen where it's been all I can do not to email Tyler and plead with him to remove them. I doubt he would: he knows what needs to be done better than I do. He certainly believes in me more than I believe in myself. If he posts a picture and I'm in it I have to trust it should be posted and move on with my day.

6/26/15 Warrior Carry with Eric H.

I have to stop being so hard on the woman in the mirror and cut her some slack. I would never talk to my friends the way I talk to myself. I know I've mentioned that endlessly, so I won't go on about it now. Maybe I can be a leader even if I get nervous and nauseated before any situation where I'm going to need to be with a group. Maybe, just maybe I am too hard on my body: it does some pretty amazing things. I should appreciate it. I'll work on that. I'll work on a lot of things. After all, nothing amazing happens if you stay in your comfort zone.

Thanks for reading!

Struggles

Maybe I'm just a whiner. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm just a normal human being who wants what she wants NOW, not later.

For two weeks now I've been struggling. Struggling to the point that I have missed two workouts. Yes, you read that right: I have skipped two workouts. I could claim I was tired, I could tell you I was giving my body a chance to recover from Tough Mudder. I could sugarcoat my absences any way I wanted, not to brag, but I am pretty good with words when I want to be. Maybe I could even make myself believe the excuses.

I'm not making excuses for myself, it won't help and I owe it to my trainer and to myself to be as honest as possible.He asked only one thing of me when he took over from my previous trainer: he asked me that I always be honest with him. If I wasn't happy with the changes he could deal with that, he just wanted me to be honest with him. Okay, I respect you Tyler, and I will be honest with you, with myself and with anyone reading this: I have missed those two workouts because I CHOSE to be lazy. I chose to roll over, look at the alarm and shut it off. Yesterday morning, I chose to let it start ringing, shut it off and snuggle Abbey. My body was ready to go, I was uncomfortable all day long because I changed my routine.

As is so often my problem, my mind got in the way. As hard as I try, there is still a mean girl whispering in my ear. She delights in pointing out all the ways I fail. It is her pleasure to sit on my shoulder when I look in the mirror and tell me I am still fat, I will always be fat and no amount of exercise is ever going to change how ugly I am. Since I've pretty much accepted that I won't ever see what other people see when they look at me, she's had to change her tactics. Attacking my looks isn't getting her anywhere, so now she's going after my fitness.

I gave that nasty little voice plenty of fodder at Tough Mudder. I noticed that I was the slowest one on the team. Big freaking deal: so I wasn't charging up the mountain: I got up the mountain and back down and up again. It wasn't a race for time, I knew that going in, but my speed or lack thereof bothers me so it makes a handy target for my perfectionist streak. Then there is my strength.

I am proud of my strength. I have reason to be proud. A 550 pound tractor tire deadlift, a 345 pound hex bar deadlift and a 325 pound barbell deadlift are things to be proud of, even I know that. The morning after Mudder I could not pull the sleeper sofa out to take off the sheets. If my friend Eric hadn't been there to make a joke of it and help me out I am pretty sure I would have had a tantrum, dissolved into a pile of tears and embarrassed the hell out of myself. We'll completely gloss over the meltdown after Skidmarked and the 10 minutes I spent alone on the balcony after we got back to the condo Saturday afternoon. Yeah, we'll forget about those. Even more for my mind to throw back in my face at every opportunity.

And let's talk about my headstands. On second thought, let's not. I can get my feet off the floor finally, but getting those legs up in the air is going to take a freaking crane, possibly an act of God. At the very least it's going to take one trainer a lot of time and talking to get me to attempt it.

So I've skipped two workouts, does that mean I throw in the towel, wave the white flag and walk away? In the past that is absolutely what it would mean. "I've missed two workouts, I've blown it, screw it". I would have justified walking away by saying I was only wasting Tyler's time, that without me around he'd have time to train someone else who deserved it more. I would have decided that my friends would still love me anyway. They definitely would still love me anyway, but deep down I know I wouldn't love myself.

It's not like I love myself a lot anyway. Sometimes I like me, but by and large I am not someone I would seek to spend time with. That's a horrible thing to say, isn't it? It feels horrible writing it, but there's that honesty thing again. I can't change it if I won't own it. I kind of like myself, but mostly I don't. There, I said it.

As much lip service as I've paid to knowing this is a process and a journey I'll be on for the rest of my life I didn't really believe that. I honestly thought this was a trip with an ending point, not a journey with more obstacles, twists and turns than I could have dreamed.

My next step is going to be silencing that nasty voice yet again. My inner "mean girl" needs to meet a hideous end. I know it won't keep her away forever, she'll creep back in the second I get lax about thinking about what I did well and trying to learn from what I didn't do well during a class or training session. When I forget I won't be the best at everything and that the goal is to make progress, not to be perfect that voice will be waiting to tell me what a waste of time this all is.

I have free will though and that means I can choose to listen or not. I get to decide if I am a waste of time that Pride Fitness Performance can do without, or if I really am inspiring to people for whatever reason. I don't pretend to understand how or why other people might see me as inspiring, but that's none of my business. My business is to do the best I can do to apply the coaching cues I get to become better, faster, stronger and hopefully more athletic.

There you have it...crazy little me in a nutshell. At the moment I'm going to end this post, go change and see if I can pull a double. Pride Fit class then buddy training. There's a chance I'll wind up a puddle on the floor, but I'll never know if I don't try and no one has told me not to try yet so I'll give it a whirl. I'll try anything once and maybe if I'm especially lucky there will be tire flips or something else I dearly love to do. A girl can always hope!

Thanks for reading.

Don't Feed The Fears

Saturday, June 6, 2015 was the first day of Tough Mudder New England at Mount Snow. It was also the day I became a three time Mudder. Basically that tells you I have absolutely no clue that I have limits and that's a good thing. If I thought about my limits I'd just call it a day and go back to bed. Some days that sounds appealing too.

The course was challenging and long (10.2 miles). From my first Mudder I have felt the same way in the hours before go time: anxious, nauseous and excited. This time there was a tiny, tiny bit more confidence: after all I have been training a lot: 3 Pride fit classes, 1 Yoga Corr class, Muscle Hour, Buddy Training, and Saturday Morning Sweat every week I could. A couple of weeks I was able to add a second Yoga Corr class and head to Lyndonville for MRT with my badass friends. I'm pretty sure when Tyler asked me one morning if I wanted a part-time job he wasn't entirely joking, but he never told me to get out so it must have been fine, right?

Ah...there it is, the self-doubt. There was a heaping dose of self-doubt swirling through me every time I thought about Tough Mudder. Yes, I had completed the course two times before, but maybe that was just luck. Maybe I wasn't good enough. Not even a fist bump before we headed to the warm-up corral helped. I honestly didn't think I could do it.

I put on my best game face when we got over the start wall. I'm not sure if I looked confident, but I don't think I looked terrified. Thanks to sunglasses I don't think anyone even knew there were tears at that point. When we were released onto the course I started up the mountain with my team reminding myself it was one step at a time, all I had to do was keep putting one foot in front of the other and I'd be fine.

The first obstacle was "Kiss of Mud 2.0". You get to army crawl under barbed wire that is right above you. I know this because it snagged my back a couple of times. This year Kiss of Mud included a chance to crawl through mud, then a really cold, muddy water and finally more mud. Then more hiking up and down the mountain.

Of all the obstacles we completed one of my favorites had to be Beached Whale. Not because it was easy, but because I got to try out some of my upper body strength. Tyler boosted me up, Eric grabbed one hand, Hailey the other and then I found the rope and pulled. It worked, I hefted myself up. Not that I did it on my own, not that I thought that was even possible, but I did some of the work on my own.

My favorite obstacle of the day was Warrior Carry. I made a promise to a friend that I would carry him the next time he did a Tough Mudder. I got my chance on Saturday. It was around Mile 7 and the right side of my lower back was complaining, but Eric was there waiting for me when I got to the obstacle. He asked if I was sure and I said I was. I gave him a piggy-back ride with a brief break to walk, then had him get back on and I carried him to the halfway point. Eric offered to carry me, but I said no. I might be smaller than I used to be, but 245 pounds is way too damn much for anyone to lug around, no matter how short the distance.

You noticed what I did, didn't you? I took a moment where I could have just been proud of how far I've come and what I've accomplished and I sabotaged myself by worrying about how heavy I still am. Well, if nothing else I'm consistent. Let's move on, shall we?

I conquered a fear on Saturday too. I completed Arctic Enema. The first year I did Tough Mudder I had every intention of completing Arctic Enema, but when it came to ducking under the water I lost my nerve and walked to the side to get out. A diver tried to help me, but I wouldn't allow it. Arctic Enema was "improved" this year. I used the quotation marks because I am not sure that sliding into icy water is an improvement. It certainly made it impossible to back out. Once I started down the slide I was committed. There were those moments I thought about clinging to the chicken wire and climbing back up and out. Glad I didn't do that...video proof of chickening out isn't something I want. Instead I have a video showing that even though my brain was frozen on "HOLY CRAP THIS IS COLD!" something kept my body moving so I could get the heck out before I completely froze. On a happy note at least that dip in the ice water eased some of the complaining from my calves and back.

After we finished and gathered our headbands, finisher shirts and beer a few of us went to the merchandise tent. I found two t-shirts I wanted and as I was standing in line a decal I'd noticed when we went in before the race caught my eye again and I couldn't stop looking. It wasn't that it was so striking, it was what it said. "Don't feed the fear". I must have stared it for a good 3 minutes before I grabbed one. I had to have it, I really need the reminder that I am my own worst enemy.

I feed my fear all the time. I turn minor mistakes into glaring, irreversible character flaws that mean I should move to a cave in the woods and never see another human again. You know, that idea has a certain amount of appeal. Yeah, I should reel it back in and get to my point. You've wasted enough of your time on my rambling.

It's not that I want to feed my fears, but I'm not sure how to stop. Some of the fears (I am not good enough, smart enough or pretty enough) are messages I took from the way other people have chosen to treat me. I am smart enough to know intellectually that the way someone treats me is a reflection of them, but my heart clings stubbornly to the idea that if I were just a better person, people would like me.

I conquered some fears on Saturday, discovered a few other fears  (peg boards, heights and Walk the Plank) that I will be conquering. Some of my fears are works in progress and I need to figure out how not to feed them.

In the meantime I have completed three Tough Mudders  and I am planning how to complete my fourth. I don't want to weigh 245 for my next Tough Mudder, Not that the number on the scale is a measure of my worth, but I'd be a complete idiot to think this weight doesn't make it harder on my body to go up and down mountains. I am many things, but I am not a complete idiot.

So I will continue training and yes I will likely show up so often Tyler will wonder if I've moved in. I will follow a nutrition plan that will help me get leaner. As much as I think a Tough Mudder at a venue without a ski mountain might be fun, I think I might have one more go at Mount Snow in me.

Thanks for reading!

The Dance

Yes, I am in a Garth Brooks kind of a mood. I was fortunate enough to see him in concert in January with a phenomenal group of women I absolutely adore. This post is not about Garth Brooks though, so those of you who might not be huge Garth Brooks fans don't need to disappear. I do have a point, I will get to it...eventually.

Believe it or not there are times that words fail me, that no matter how much I want to put my feelings down I just don't have the words I need to express myself. If you've ever tried to carry on a face-to-face conversation with me the fact that I run out of words isn't a surprise. In fact, some of you may be reading this saying "WELL DUH!!!" Yeah, I'm a heck of a listener, not so good at conversation.

This blog started out solely as the record of the fitness journey I was starting. Along the way I veered off into the journey that is my life. The truth is my fitness journey and my life are hopelessly intertwined. What happens in my life has an impact on my fitness and the energy I devote to it.

I mentioned in my last post that my mind has been going just about nonstop. I decided that I wouldn't go into detail, but I've rethought that position. I might not be much of a conversationalist, but give me a way to write and I will spill my guts every damn time.

I am the queen of too much information when I sit in front of my laptop, some of you reading this know that for a fact. I could apologize, but I'm not planning to stop so there's no sense in saying I'm sorry. I might give you way more information than you ever needed to train me, work with me, or be my friend, but there are benefits. Seriously, there are and when I figure them out I'll get right back to you with them. Kidding, really, I'm kidding. I am rabidly loyal. I am a good listener.

I guess it's time to stop beating around the bush and just put it out there. My father has cancer. I pray for a miracle for him. I feel bad for him, my stepmother, my sister and my nephew. I have felt bad for not going to see him, but the truth is he and I do not have a relationship. That probably sounds like the height of callousness.

I am not that cold or that hard. The fact is we never saw eye to eye on anything. I was a mystery to him, the quiet, moody one. He parented me to the best of his ability, but we were absolutely never close. It's hard to be close to someone who considers it helpful to remind you frequently how fat you are. I'm not rehashing my childhood here, there is no reason and absolutely no point. I love my father, but I do not like him. End of story.

This is why my mind won't stop. Debating the right thing to do. Do I ignore my own feelings and do what feels absolutely wrong? Do I stand up for myself and do what feels right? A friend recently reminded me that the decision is mine to make and whatever I decide is right for me is fine and she supports me.

My workouts aren't just about building strength right now: they are about burning off some of the crazy. They are about pushing my body to the point that the only thing I can focus on is what I am doing in that moment. To avoid the risk of injury I need to focus on only what I am doing

Working out is my escape and my refuge. I am learning to trust. I am learning to listen to my body. I am learning to focus on the moment. I am trying to learn to leave the worry outside the studio door. Someday I hope to see myself the way others see me, not as a nuisance or a colossal pain in the ass.

The journey is passing through some rocky terrain at the moment, but this too shall pass. I will come out on the other side having learned what I needed to learn. If I could go back I would choose to miss this, but there are other things that are happening now, positive things that I would also have to miss. As Garth would sing "I could have missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the dance". I'm not willing to miss the good just to avoid some pain.

Thanks for reading!

Again?

There have been so many things running around in my mind in the last two weeks. I've spent long nights wishing my mind would shut off . I have walked into my happy place feeling anything but happy. Sure, by the end of the workout I was feeling better and I actually smiled, but I started out wondering why I bothered.

I've debated whether I write about some of what's going on or not. At first I hesitated because I'm not looking for sympathy or anything like that. I am strong, I will move through this too. I might get stuck, I might look like I'm going down, but you can bet that if I go down, I'm not staying down. Now I'm hesitating, because the situation is what it is. Nothing I could write will change it and honestly, it is not that interesting. I'm not that interesting either if you get right down to it. I love to write, there are wonderful people who read what I write, but I am not that special.

What it boils down to is no matter how you try to hide from it change finds you. My life is changing and I am changing. That's causing the most over thinking now, wondering who I am.

I was always the shy one, the quiet one, the invisible one. I'm not really those things anymore. I'll never be the life of the party, I'm still quiet. I'm still shy. Give me a choice between a face-to-face conversation or an email and I'm going for email every time. It's just easier. Sorry to those of my friends who wish I'd just talk to them, but I'm more comfortable with written words. Then I can edit and I don't need to worry about stuttering or forgetting what I wanted to say in the middle of a sentence.

On the fitness front I'm changing too. I know I said here not all that long ago that I was not a runner. I was frustrated and disappointed with myself. I want to run, but I HATE the jiggle. There, I said it. The elephant in the room has now been addressed. I jiggle. My thighs jiggle, my belly jiggles, my arms jiggle. I'm one giant jiggle when I run. Couple the jiggle with my speed which is highly reminiscent of turtles plodding through peanut butter and it's not hard to see why I might decide that I am not a runner, nor will I ever be.

I feel lumpy and dumpy enough. Why the heck would I want to engage in a form of  exercise that lets me feel body parts jiggling, flopping and flapping with every step? I can focus on developing my strength and work on endurance with the rowing machine. Or so I tell myself while the part of me that never wants to back down from a challenge snarls that I'm a quitter.

I'm not a quitter. As much as it pains me, as much as the jiggling will make me wish for a home liposuction kit I will practice, I will jog, maybe someday I will run and not hate my body. Just please, please, please if you see me out there grimly enduring the jiggling, don't tell me to keep up my slow jog. I KNOW I'm not fast, I know I've been lapped by a turtle, but let me hold on to at least one illusion: Let me at least pretend that I'm running. I know comments like that aren't intended to hurt, they are meant as support. I get that and I appreciate the support, but a "keep going" would be just as good.

This body is mine for better or for worse. I don't really like it, in fact, not to put too fine a point on it I hate it. I am working on accepting it, on improving the body I have and celebrating what my body allows me to do. I'm not there yet, I'm a long, long way from there actually.

So...should you see me at Derby Elementary making my way around the track, or at Pride Fitness Performance jogging around the pond feel free to offer me a thumbs up or an "atta girl" or just nod, smile and go on your way. Just please don't mention that herd of turtles behind me who seem to be gaining. I know they're there...I'll outrun them someday.

I am backing away from my statement that I am not a runner. At least now when I run my lower back doesn't seize up and start aching. It's progress, slow though it may be, it is still progress.

Thanks for reading!

Roar

Recovery week time.

A much needed recovery week, to be honest. What I do every week is hard, but I love it. With that said I may as well be honest and admit that this week was not my best. Instead of being excited to work out before I got there it wasn't until I was immersed in the day's workout that I felt any excitement at all. I do know not every workout will be my best performance, but this week was a real struggle.

Yep, I said it. I struggled and I wasn't my best. No excuses, no blame: I am human. I did the best I could, I got good workouts in, but by no means were any of them my best performances.

Oh trust me I could make a million excuses for myself, but excuses don't help. Yes I am tired. I am absolutely sore. Basically my body needs a break from all the things I love. I need a week of walking Abbey and playing with her. I'm hoping to hike with her as well.

Not so long ago I'd have been crushed by a week like this one. There was a moment on Friday, during Chutes & Ladders when I realized I was looking at 15 more burpees, because I wasn't going to finish the ladder in time that I admit I had a momentary breakdown. I put the kettlebells down, hunched up for a moment and cried. Then I remembered that I only needed to do the best I could. If I did burpees I did burpees. If I disappointed my trainer so be it. The only person in that room I had to prove a thing to was myself. At the end of the workout all I wanted to say was that I did the best job I could do and made myself proud. I can say that. I may have had to do 15 burpees after every round, but I. Did. The. Best. I. Could.

So why did I choose the title I did for this post? I need to roar. I used to believe my best course of action was to go through life as silent as possible. If I could fly under the radar everything was perfect and as it should be. There's problem with that: I'm not really a fly under the radar person. It would be easier if I really was, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

I'm not a puppet. I'm not a doormat. I don't need or want to be the center of attention. Roaring doesn't require that I trumpet from the rooftops who I am and what I do. To me roaring is quietly doing what I can do to the absolute best of my ability and letting the rest fall into place.

I am me. If you support that then I welcome you with open arms and for the first time an open heart. If you want me to be your vision of what you expect sorry, I have no time for that. I won't be rude, I won't be mean, but I just can't live life to make anyone else happy.

Thanks for reading!

Are we there yet?

Remember being younger and your parents tell you you're going on a trip in the car? How long did it take before you were asking "Are we there yet?" According to my mother on trips to visit my grandparents in Quincy, MA about the time we hit the Orleans exit on I91 I was asking if we were there yet. Keep in mind we got on I91 in Newport. I am very surprised I actually lived through my childhood.

I've said it before: I am not a very patient person. When I want something I want it now. I can wait, but I'm not gracious about it.

So let me be honest right now: I want to be "there" in my journey. Not that I'm not enjoying the moments on the journey, I'm trying to at least. I don't even know where "there" is. I used to think being there meant a number on the scale, now I'm not so sure. Now I think there might be the number of pounds I can lift. 600 is a really nice, even number, but what if I can lift more than that?

I'm not sure I should be allowed to have vacation time. Not that it wasn't great getting in an extra group fit class and an extra Yoga Corr class, but when I wasn't working out I was at loose ends. There's a possibility I watched way more "reality TV" than is good for anyone. There's also a good chance that I saw the show "Botched" and several tummy tucks.

The idea is appealing, I'll admit that right now. All the loose skin gone, with liposuction to get rid of some fat. Yes it did show botched tummy tucks, but then the mistakes were fixed. Fortunately I don't have the money to get anything tucked and even if I did I don't like hospitals or surgery. Please...it takes me two years to schedule an annual physical. How likely do you think it is that I'm going to willingly submit to cosmetic surgery??

It's vain, that's another strike against it. Yes, I want a body that looks good in clothes, but it feels stupid, vain and pointless. I have a good idea that no matter what my body looks like I still won't like it. It's hard to like something that looks exactly like it did 60 pounds ago. We've been over that before though, let's not beat that to death again today.

So as intrigued as I was by the idea of "fixing" the body I have now it isn't going to happen. My fix will be much slower and I know there will always be things about my body I don't like and want to change. Even if it looks good to everyone else I'll be hyper focused on the flaws.

So what else did I do during my vacation besides binge watch reality TV? I worked out of course. Nine workouts in one week. It was almost 10, because Friday's group fit class was "Metal Health" and I LOVED it.

Since the Pride Games I've been trying to apply common sense to my workouts. I certainly could have gone back to Pride Fitness Performance on Friday morning for the 9 am class, Tyler might have asked me again if I wanted a part-time job, but he wouldn't have refused to let me participate. I could have flipped the tire, pulled the prowler, squatted with heavy kettlebells and tried to better my time in the finisher gauntlet. Chances are I would have been fine. The thing about that is as much as I am trying not to think too much about it Tough Mudder is coming up. In a little more than a month I will be starting my third Tough Mudder. I really can't afford any injuries right now.

Hauling my butt up and down Mount Snow will be hard, even if I had a tiny, perfect little hard body it would still be hard to haul it up and down the mountain. A good thing about Tough Mudder is when you get to an obstacle you usually get a chance to breathe for a minute or two while you wait your turn. I'm excited to complete the course with my team and I'm nervous. You see, my trainer will be there and I want to make him proud.

There's also my pesky habit of bursting into tears after I cross the finish line. Maybe this year I'll have whoever comes along as support crew carry tissues so I'm not soaking anyone's shoulder. Or I'll do what I did last year and hold it together until I get in the shower then sob to my heart's content with no one the wiser. Okay so those of you on my team who are reading this have now been warned: there will be tears.

Why the tears? If I'm going to cry at any time I should probably cry at the beginning when I think of slogging up and down the mountain for 10-12 miles, not at the end when it's over and I'm not too much worse for the wear. Go back to the title of the blog, I ask myself that question a lot as I move along the course. Mostly because there are points when I'm sure I can't go one more mile or one more foot. The best I can do is put one foot in front of the other and convince myself that I do have one more step. Then there comes the point when the anxiety builds and I can't get in a full breath and it's hard to breathe out. By the time I get to the end of the course I've pushed my body beyond what I ever dreamed it could accomplish. Combine the anxiety, the enormity of the task and the relief it is over and I don't think it's any wonder there are tears.

I'm not there yet, wherever there might be. I don't even have a hazy idea in mind of how I will know when I am "there". As impatient as I am the journey is kind of fun. I've picked up a great crew of people to support and encourage me. I've been lucky to work work with amazing trainers who know how to push me just far enough without pushing me over the edge. I'm leaving behind some of the negative thoughts and voices and other "garbage" that won't serve me while I discover who I really am.

Thanks for reading!

Battles

I have a confession.

Not much of a hook, but it's true. I don't really think it's much of a confession...anyone who has known me for more than 5 minutes knows this about me: I fight my body. I like to say I'm not a super model and I never will be. I even know the super models don't really look like the airbrushed, photo shopped perfection we see on magazine covers.

The sad truth is, I WANT to have a perfect body.

I've done a lot of thinking about my body since last Saturday. I feel in many ways like I am constantly fighting it. I want it to be lean and slender. I say being strong matters to me and it does, but there's still that desire to have a body nature didn't bless me with and likely won't be giving me.

I should probably sit down, throw my tantrum and accept that I don't have a lean runner's body. My body seems much more suited to heavy lifting and I LOVE that type of work more than just about anything. I should be thankful that I am more fit, more healthy and so much stronger than I started out. What I should feel and reality are world's apart.

When asked last July what some of my goals were for buddy training I said that someday I wanted to run a half-marathon. At the time another voice in my head wanted to scream "HELL NO: I want to enter a strongman competition and show the boys who's boss!". I guess in my mind I've always thought I'd know I'd reached some level of fitness when I could run 13.1 miles.

I want my body to be something other than what it is. I want to be tall and lean, instead of feeling short and squat. I don't want powerful legs: I want thin legs. Everyone wants something they don't have, I know that and I want to accept the body I have, but I dig in my heels and refuse.

Here's another "confession" (or another moment you might want to slap me in the back of the head and say "DUH! I knew that!!"). I find the body I have ugly. I could dredge up childhood, point out all the times the man who should have supported me and encouraged me told me I was fat and I'd never be anything but fat then laughed at me when I said I wanted to ride horses and told me no horse would ever have strong enough legs to carry me. Oops, looks like I did dredge that up. The truth is, my father said those things to me, but I chose to take them to heart and believe them. I was the one who decided that what an angry, depressed alcoholic said to me was the truth and should be front and center in my mind at all times. I can't change what he said, but I sure as hell can control my thoughts and actions.

I've decided that running a half-marathon really isn't a goal for me. I will continue with 5Ks and I think I will try a 10K at some point, but really my body doesn't seemed designed to run. I can run and I'm grateful for that, but it is not an activity I love, it's probably time to stop fighting that and focus on the things I do love.

Which brings me to what my body seems designed for: lifting. I know I can't just dead lift, push the prowler or flip tires all the time. I know to get better I need to work on my balance, mobility and agility. I need to do the core work that is so hard for me and yep, I even need to run and do other exercises designed to increase my endurance. To my way of thinking, and I could be wrong, anything I do to improve my body can only help my strength. I know if I'm wrong about that I have some fitness professionals in my life who will let me know and point me in the right direction. Dead lifting 550 pounds is great, but if doing so makes my back ache for weeks I'm not doing myself any good, so I need a strong core. I won't promise not to whine and complain, but I will work on the v-sits, hold planks and do the core work.

My idea of beauty might not include the body I see in the mirror every day, but even I have to admit my body is strong and powerful. Perhaps I need to stop fighting it at every turn, get on board with my nutrition and make the body I was blessed with the best it can be. Lord knows not eating in the calorie range I've been told would be best for my activity level hasn't given me that lean body I desperately want. I need to stop trying to starve my body into what I want it to be. I need to stop wishing there was a pill that I could take and make all the fat go away and the loose skin disappear. I need to trust the entire process, not just the parts I want to.

So, if you are reading this TT, I am going to stop digging in my heels and being passive aggressive when you offer advice and direction. Trust doesn't come easily, but trusting the process with my workouts has yielded results I couldn't imagine. It's time I trust the process with nutrition as well. There might be whining and complaining, in fact I can pretty much guarantee you there will be, but I am going to take the step out of my comfort zone and extend that trust.

Now on with your day! It's beautiful out there and I feel the call of some yard work while I watch Abbey race, play and add to her stick collection.

Thanks for reading.

Pride Games

Today I participated in the first Pride Games. What an AMAZING experience. It's been awhile since I've put myself out there for any kind of competition. I LOVED it. Of course, there were dead lifts, tire flips and the prowler. As competitive as I am, I did something that makes me even prouder today. I recognized I DO have limits and there are times it is wiser to step away and save it for another day.

When the events for the Pride Games were first posted I wasn't sure there was anything I could do. At the time I was sore, achy and (big surprise) down on myself. I'm down on myself a lot. It's just not okay. I have so much to offer and I don't because I worry if I can't be perfect I'm not going to be good enough. I've recognized that for a long time now, but change is hard. I step out of my comfort zone a lot, but when it comes to the way I think about myself and the way I talk to myself I don't step outside a comfort zone that should be incredibly uncomfortable. I guess some lessons and words stay with us for a very long time.

Anyhow, back to the Pride Games. They were so much fun, even if I missed part of the warm up because my sense of how long it takes to get places isn't as well-developed as it could be. The first event was one I knew wouldn't be my best, but I was going to try the Handstand Holds.

I am proud to report I held my handstand for 50 seconds. The very first time I ever did one I couldn't hold it more than 10 seconds. I hated them. I was upside down, my shoulders hurt and all I could do was worry what would happen when I fell. I didn't think about that today, when it started to hurt I came down from the handstand, no drama. I dropped first, but I'm fine with that. 50 seconds is great when 10 seconds used to be stretching it.

Next was tire flips with the 330 pound tire. LOVE THEM!!! Ten tire flips for time, I was all over that. I finished my ten flips in 46 seconds. Would have been less if I hadn't tripped over the tire after one of my flips, but 46 seconds was an amazing time. I tied with one of the guys competing for second. We had a choice of 10 more flips or 5 for time. He picked 5 and I agreed. I finished my 5 flips in 19 seconds. I came in second in the tire flip event. YES!!!

My next event was "Da Beast" or Tractor Tire Dead lifts. One of the times I stepped into the tire to prep for my lift I made the comment "THIS is my happy place". I mentioned in my last post that I've always been strong. I guess today more of my friends realized how strong. My final lift was 550 pounds, 330 pounds of tire and 120 pounds of dumbbells. I think I could have lifted more, but I exercised my common sense too and said that was my cut-off. I'd like to add that was my cut off for today, not forever. I intend to lift that tractor tire again. I won "Da Beast" and I had some stiff competition.

After that I had The Prowler push. My max push today was 700 pounds. I started pushing 752 pounds, but halfway through I knew it was too much. Yes, I'm pretty sure I could have forced the issue and finished, but it felt like a bad idea. A possibly injury inducing bad idea and I DON'T want to be injured. I am not patient with injury.

Once again, I was in a tie for second place. The sudden death this time was a push for time. I made it in 8.9 seconds, Brandon made it in 8.5 seconds. Me: I'm thrilled with pushing 700 pounds.

My last event was the Alpha Lion gauntlet. A Farmer's carry with the 100 pound KB, drop that. Pick up the dummy (or Mr. Big Stuff, as the 5:30 am crew call him) and carry him back to the start. Drop him. Do 30 push ups, making sure your chest touches the floor and you lift your hands off the floor each rep and then flip the 525 pound tire. Piece of cake...

I made 2 attempts, but just couldn't get that 525 pound tire to flip. The old me would have been FURIOUS with the failure. I wasn't thrilled, but I recognized what I had done: I'd done 60 push ups. I'd made a good showing and the tire was about not being able to figure out a good grip and how to coordinate the press and leg movement, not about not being strong enough. I will get it figured out, then watch out guys: I'm coming for you.

I didn't win the Pride Games, but I never went into it thinking I would. Congratulations to Pat Williams, who was the winner. He was amazing. Everyone who entered was amazing. I am fortunate to know such a strong, kind, supportive group of people.

I entered to test my strength, to better myself and to have fun with my friends. I accomplished all three goals. I think I finally also saw a glimpse of who I really am. I'm not 309 pounds anymore, I'm physically stronger than I thought and I'm learning to listen to my body. Time to move out of that uncomfortable comfort zone I've lived in and be the woman I really am.

Tractor Tire Dead Lift "This is my happy place."

Thanks for reading!

I Wish...

I read a blog last night that really caught my attention and made me think about the journey I'm on. I've been impatient lately and extremely critical of everything I do. Nothing feels good enough, my best effort just pisses me off. We won't even get into the fact that not being able to get to 2000 meters in 10 minutes on the rowing machine made me burst into tears while I rolled and stretched a tender groin muscle. WHAT THE HELL??!

Have I learned NOTHING in 4 years?

Enough ranting...back to the blog. The title was "8 Things I Wish I Knew When I First Started Working Out" (the link if you are interested in reading the post is https://blog.myfitnesspal.com/8-things-i-wish-i-knew-when-i-first-started-working-out/ ). In case I didn't get the link quite right it is also on my Facebook wall so you can find it. It was written by Shannon Clark and she makes perfect sense. I plan to reread that blog often (read daily) until I get my head screwed on straight and my attitude adjusted.

I suppose I should be thankful that I at least realize I'm being ridiculous. There is so much I can do that wasn't possible 4 years ago. I should celebrate that.


I wish I could be patient.

I shouldn't be looking across the studio to see someone else pushing the prowler with more weight than I did when it was my turn. I need to trust the process and I do know my trainer knows what's best. If that prowler isn't being loaded down for me there is a reason and I need to trust him on that. I shouldn't worry that valslide tucks are just as hard as they have always been, I should think about being able to hold a 3 minute plank or almost a minute handstand. With the handstand, what I probably really should celebrate is that when I came out of it I didn't kick either one of my partners. I'm strong, I'm not graceful or coordinated, but I'm improving.

I have always been strong, capable of lifting heavy things, it was just something I did. When family members moved it was me they looked to for help with the sofas or bureaus. I could lift, but I didn't have a clue about good form. I had years of backaches and muscle strains to prove that. Another thing I didn't understand was thinking it through: I was a jump in and muscle through it girl. If that file cabinet wouldn't move the way I wanted it to, I just pushed harder. Step back and scope out the situation? Umm...that would take time and patience. The result of that approach: scrapes, cuts, bruises and muscle strains.

There's something to be thankful for right there: I've learned patience and I practice good form every time. I probably annoy people who are waiting for me to pick up my end of the furniture so we can get on with things, but I am a stickler for being sure I'm lifting properly. Before it didn't matter, there was only that furniture to move. Now I know beyond the sofa I'm moving there are deadlifts to perform, prowlers to push, tires to be flipped and mountains to climb and come back down. I'm no longer willing to jeopardize future performance to make the task at hand go faster.


I wish I could be confident in myself and my abilities.

I have two months and one day to go until my third Tough Mudder and my third meeting with Mount Snow. I would love to tell you that I know I can do it and I am confident I will be ready. The truth is I am just as nervous now as I was the first time. When I think about it the butterflies kick in. So I try not to think about it.

Race day will come and I will be where I am, I will be who I am. I will give everything I have to give and I will cross that finish line. Whatever happens on the course I can guarantee I will cross the finish line.

Beyond Tough Mudder I want to be more confident in general. I don't think my ego will get out of control if I recognize there are things I do and do well.


I wish, sometimes, that I could see what's ahead. 

I love this journey, I'm not saying I'm done with it. Of course there are parts of it I am more than done with and there were people I dealt with along the journey I hope never to see again. In fact, not to put too fine a point on it: if I never see those people again it will be just spectacular with me. Sometimes I just wish I had a map so I could see the bumps in the road coming. I KNOW that's not possible, but let me have a few moments with my rose-colored glasses in my fantasy world.  I know the measure of who I am as a person is how I deal with the unexpected. A little less unexpected might be a nice touch, but I'm fairly certain my wants and needs aren't the most important in the world.


So there you have it...how I can take a blog post someone wrote on what she wishes she had known when she started working out and turn it into what I wish for when I can't shut my mind off enough to go to sleep.

Happy Easter everyone.

Thanks for reading!

Running Away or Running To?

Another Saturday and I'm posting another thought that's been interrupting my sleep all week. You would think as much thinking as I need to do during my work day and as many workouts as I put in I'd sleep like a baby. HA! I sleep like a woman sharing a bed with a boxer bedhog and 2 feline bedhogs. Which really means I am often woken up by one or another of my furry menaces trying to push me out of their way. Did I mention the Boxer snores? She does, loudly. If you're thinking that I could refuse to let them sleep with me you'd be right, I could do that. The fact is I won't because I am a hopeless sucker for my animals.

There I go, off on another tangent. I suppose the silver lining to three bedhogs in my bed is I have lots of time to ponder thoughts that I wouldn't have time for during the day. So that brings us to this week's thought: Am I running away from something or running to something?

As recently as a month ago I would have told you I was running away. I was running away from being the "fat girl" and running away from things that made me uncomfortable or afraid. Great things were happening while I was running away, I'm not complaining. I was getting more fit and healthier and bit by tiny bit I was changing my mindset. The past is long over and done, I can't change it, end of story. No matter how many pounds or inches I lose history won't change.

Things changed this week. No there was not a moment when I had some huge breakthrough and everything became clear to me. This isn't Hollywood and my life isn't a movie. Good thing too, I'd fire my hair person...the mop is totally out of control most days. There may not have been some huge lightning strike with angels singing, but as the week progressed and I looked back and reflected on the things I had done I saw a difference. More importantly I felt different.

Monday I spoke with a friend and made plans to return "home" for a workout. Up until that moment I wanted to go back to Fortitude Fitness Systems and train under Ben, but I didn't. All I could remember were OCR classes when I would drive home crying because I still felt like I'd lost something. Monday I realized that simply wasn't true, I didn't lose a thing I gained another man I can trust completely. I won. So I made the plans and I felt like a kid waiting for Christmas all week long. More on that in a bit.

Wednesday during Muscle Hour we were working on BB snatches. We started with the PVC pipes and when I tried one my shoulder hurt. Not the left one I tried to crush tumbling, but the right one. I thought about ignoring it and just muscling through, but I've been spoken to about that and I was honest: it hurt. So while I watched other people practice with the barbells I did overhead squats. Overhead squats are a weakness and I could have been whiny and done a few then sulked, but I didn't. When you're 44 it's seriously unbecoming to act like a two-year old who didn't get her way. I practiced those squats over and over and over. Someday I might actually be good at them.

Thursday was buddy-less Buddy Training day, aka personal training. I did some work to stretch out my shoulders and then I got a core circuit. Have I mentioned that I am not a big fan of core work? Yes I understand that it will help me in so many ways, but we've established I am worse than a little kid in a lot of ways and I don't want to do what is hard for me. Luckily I am also a good little teacher's pet and Tyler told me to do it, so I was going to do it.

I found that it was hard, that it hurt, that I wanted to quit, but I didn't. It helped A LOT that I had Tyler close by reminding me it was temporary and to fight through it, but the push to finish what I started had to come from me. I could have quit, when I got to the 90 second plank at the end I was pretty sure I was going to quit. I hung on for 30 second intervals and eventually it ended. I was well rewarded for the core work: I got to deadlift the tractor tire and then use it for some farmer carries. Happy times...wish I'd thought to ask for some pictures or video of that. Next time.

Friday I went "home". No, Lyndonville is not home, but I went back to Fortitude Fitness Systems where it all started. I got to train under Ben again. It was familiar and I loved it. There were no moments when it was painful or hard to be there. I felt comfortable and welcome. I realized again how thankful I was for the solid foundation I was given. I took what I learned and applied it, but someone had to take the time to work through the walls and the defenses to be able to teach me. Last night I hope he saw the fruits of all his hard work.

I'm not done, not by a long shot. I'm trying out my wings and soaring under someone new. He didn't have an easy job with me at the start either. I put the walls up and stood behind them following directions and doing my best, but not completely trusting the process. It took time, but I came around. Thanks for your patience with me Tyler.

This morning I completed Saturday Morning Sweat. My eighth workout for the week. I feel good about the hang tucks I did and my box jumps. Maybe I only did two or three box jumps per round, but they were good jumps. I landed as lightly as I could and stuck my landing. I won't be the fastest box jumper around, but I'm determined to do them well.

I'm not running away from the hard stuff anymore. I might not be eagerly running to things that are hard, but I get there, gather my courage and do what I set out to do. The negative voices of the past are fading out. I have moments where the past crashes in, but it's only a moment, I can brace myself and come out just fine on the other side. I always could, I just didn't believe it.

I'll be 45 next week and I can't wait. Some things get better with age: I'm one of them. Just watch me!

Thanks for reading!

Be What You Are

I first encountered this phrase on a mini bumper sticker I had to buy. I don't know why at that moment in time it was so important to me to have it, but it was. It was before I started this journey, but I wonder if that was the day I finally decided it was time to live life and stop hiding.

For a long time that phrase bothered me. I always felt it should say "Be Who You Are". I've been pondering it a lot this week and I think it said exactly the right thing. That little rectangle of black with white lettering has taken up a great deal of space in my thoughts so it's time for me to dump all of the thoughts here and hope I make sense.

What am I?

I'm not sure that answer is much different than describing who I am. I am a daughter, friend, sister, aunt, teacher, pet mama, Tough Mudder, student and a dozen other things that escape me at the moment. What if the answer to the question goes deeper than that?

What am I beneath the surface labels?

I am an introvert. I like people, I have friends, but I am never truly comfortable in big groups. I prefer small groups of people I know well who understand and accept I won't be the nonstop talker. I admire people who are outgoing and draw energy from those around them, but that is not who I am. I can start and carry on conversations, but I truly prefer to listen. Or write. Sit me down with paper or in front of a computer and the words pour out. What I lack in conversational skills I make up for in my writing ability. Apparently I have a well-developed ego too.

I am determined. I did the college right after high school thing and discovered it wasn't for me, so I left and went to work. I worked at a number of different retail jobs before I decided that was NOT going to be the rest of my life. There is nothing wrong with that work, but I was not good at it. I didn't believe the customer was always right and I was not a good enough actress to pretend I did. I became a paraprofessional working with a multiply handicapped student. It was the hardest, and at times, the most frustrating thing I had ever done and I loved it. I went back to college and put myself through the elementary education/special education program at Lyndon State College. My heart is in special education and since my graduation I have been a special educator.

I am cautious. I'm not a fan of putting myself in situations I can't plan from start to finish. Quite the statement from a person who has signed up for her third Tough Mudder. I still remember how I felt after my first one. I was exhausted, sore, crying on the shoulder of anyone who would stand still long enough and under it all I knew I was doing another one. Who knew someone who likes plans and consistency could be an adrenaline junkie too?

I am definitely judgmental. Especially with myself. I want perfection. I can say it's about progress, not perfection and I absolutely mean it for other people, but I don't apply that to myself. If I can't do something as well as I think I should I am deeply disappointed. I'm getting better. I have accepted that the person others see when they look at me is never the person I am going to see and it's okay. I'd like to see the woman others see, but I'm content that I can look at the person in the mirror and not cringe.

I am a work in progress. Sometimes I'm just a hot mess, but usually I am a work in progress. Two steps forward and one step back, but still a work in progress.

I forgive hurts. It takes time, sometimes a long time, but everyone deserves forgiveness, yes EVERYONE. Forgiving someone doesn't mean forgetting the hurt, in some cases forgetting would be impossible. Forgiving to me means I am taking control, I am deciding the situation or that moment in time no longer defines who I am or what I am. It will forever be part of my history, but it is NOT part of my future or my present.

I am strong, physically and emotionally. Did you know strong people sometimes cry? Did you know when you cry and other people see you the world doesn't end? I KNOW-right? Okay, so maybe that wasn't a revelation to anyone else, but it's been a game changer for me. Not that I burst into tears at the drop of a hat, but there have been a few times recently when the tears have come and I haven't bolted...oddly enough the people around me when the tears came didn't bolt either. Don't worry, I am not going to become one of those people who cries at everything and tries to use tears to manipulate. My stepfather used to tell me that tears washed away negative feelings and stress. I admit I thought he was nuts, but he did have a point.

What I am most of all is a woman on a journey. There are peaks and valleys, sometimes in the same day. There are days I'm sure I lost the map and times I know there isn't a map at all and I'm making this up as I go. Whatever the case may be I am surrounded by amazing, inspiring, strong people.

Thanks for reading!

Competition

I didn't think I was that competitive, I was fooling myself. I may well be flexible, giving and caring, but give me the proper circumstances and my competitive side rises. I don't think there's anything wrong with being competitive, it's not like I start trash talking people or being a nasty jerk.

So what brought out my competitive side this week? Muscle Hour at Pride Fitness Performance in part. I LOVE that class. I want to learn more about Olympic lifts and I want to work on my form. Let's face it: if it is heavy I must lift it or flip it. Tell me we're going to work on deadlifts and you have my attention and eager participation. That happened Wednesday evening. We worked on dumbbell snatches and the board also said deadlifts. Deadlifts? If I were my dog Abbey my ears would have stood at attention and I probably would have been doing her whole body wiggle. Thankfully for the rest of the class and the instructor I am not able to behave like an over-excited Boxer. If I have given you any mental images you could have lived without I am deeply sorry.

We practiced our snatches first. The snatch part I'm not so bad at, the squat part...UGH! Overhead squats are such a weakness, but this post isn't about that. I could write a million entries on my weaknesses. Today it's competition. So back on track...

While we were still working on snatches Tyler had us come into the Weight Cave to try our deadlifts. Yes, I almost skipped in when it was my turn. My first lift was 225 pounds for 5 reps. I'll be honest, that felt heavy and I considered calling it right there and just going back to the snatches and working on my overhead squat. I decided against it, because really 225 wasn't that heavy and I wanted to see if I could lift 315 pounds again. That was my personal record (PR) for a deadlift until Wednesday evening.

My next set of deadlifts was 275 I think, then 295. Then my PR came up 315 pounds. I noticed Tyler stuck around for that set of deadlifts, For the others he was watching me, but also coaching others in the class. I lifted 315 pounds and it didn't feel any heavier than the 225 had, I really need to ponder that more. That made me feel GREAT. I remember the first time I ever deadlifted 315 pounds with Ben, it was the heaviest thing I could ever imagine lifting and it was HARD. Super hard, my bladder might have let go a little in fact. Yes, yes, that was TMI, but it was honest.

I figured we would be done after that round of lifting, but Tyler said we would do one more round and he added 30 pounds to the bar. Yep, I was going to see if I could deadlift 345 pounds, I did do the math in my head a few times while I waited for my turn and tried to talk the little voice in my head into shutting up and not showing gruesome images of me ripping my arms out of their sockets when I tried to lift the bar. I was pretty sure nothing that dramatic would happen, but not positive.

Then it was my turn. It was about then that I finally noticed what Tyler had been doing in the Weight Cave with the marker. The deadlift board moved in there and had been empty up until that night. Now there were initials and numbers up there. Many under the "200 Club" heading and three under the "300 Club" heading. My initials and two other men with 315 pounds.

Hmmm...so much for not being competitive because there was no way in hell I was not going to lift that 345 pounds. Not that I need to be the best, not that I have anything against men, but I had to do it.

To shorten this up so you can get back to your day: I was able to successfully lift 345 pounds. So were the two other men. I was proud of my accomplishment for sure, and I was proud of everyone else. I remember the first time I got to deadlift and how empowering it was to lift more than I thought I could.

I rediscovered my competitive side on Wednesday, but I also discovered I don't need to be the center or the "best". I need to do the best I can do and not being as good as the person next to me or across the room from me is not losing. My biggest competition has always and will always live inside me, right between my ears as a matter of fact.

My competition likes to tell me I'm not good enough, or smart enough and is happy to point out that everyone else can do things I can't. I have figured her out though, when I point out what I CAN do and DO do well there is silence.

I've said it before: I may never be the best or the fastest, I may not be the teacher's pet or the instructor's favorite. I will be consistent, I will give my best effort and I will offer my support and encouragement whenever I can. Life is too short to need to be better than everyone else. I want to be a strong support, not a shining star. That's my path and I accept it.

Thanks for reading! The next time I'm at my happy place (in less than 12 hours), I will take a picture of the deadlift board and post it.

So I need to learn how to center things before I take a picture, but you get the idea.