Me < Coordinated

I am not a coordinated person.

I come from a long line of non-coordinated individuals. I am lucky in that, compared to other members of my family (*cough* older sister *cough*), I absolutely seem graceful and synchronized.

People would talk about my family’s epic klutziness, and I categorically disagreed with them! Sure, Jordan is a klutz; she sealed her own fate when she tripped over nothing and broke her wrist on the world’s most gentle fall. Brandi, my younger sister, can’t help but to be uncoordinated because by the age of 12 she had more hip surgeries than most people have….ever. And my twin sister Tiffany, well it is hard to be coordinated when you are suffering from chronic fatigue and are tired all the time.

But I was sure that I had been lucky enough to dodge the klutzy gene.

Then I went to college…..

No one in my family went to college with me, so there was no bigger klutz to hide behind.

Sure I denied it at first, but after a few instances like, oh, I don’t know, falling out of a canoe a few dozen times on a float trip that resulted in calf covering bruises that were as black as my mood when I find out we are doing burpees (seriously. I do not like those.) Or perhaps stepping off of a curb and spraining my ankle. That was fun to explain to the coaches. Or missing a step when walking down the stairs and landing on my back side. Or stepping on an icy patch and flying into the air before crashing down on my left arm. Or…well, that’s enough. No need to get into the other three years of college.

So you see that my coordination, or lack there of, is really a problem. (Yet, I insist on tempting fate by wearing 3-inch heels every day to work. And yes, I run in them because I’ll be darned if I miss a pedestrian crossing sign just because of footwear.)

So far I’ve been able to pretend that I am coordinated in CrossFit. But today I was unable to hide it. And I became frustrated.

I don’t like not getting things. That’s why I hated Chemistry. It is still a mystery to me. All of it. It wasn’t from lack of trying: I did before school tutoring, after school tutoring, private tutoring, Chemistry for Dummies, help in study hall….none of it worked. To this day I am sure that my chemistry teacher passed me out of sheer pity. I could fake an English paper with the best of them. I would write “A” papers on the symbolism of a book’s title with out ever cracking the spine. I get BS. You can’t BS Chem. lab.

I have learned that Kettle bell snatches are a lot less like English papers and a lot more like Chemistry. I don’t get them.

I have a theory that because I am tall (5’11”) that my brain has trouble sending all of the coordination details to every inch of my body. That makes sense, right? But it is still frustrating!

So on the kettle bell snatches, the coaches are like “No, nononono…do it THIS way.”

Ummm…that’s what I thought I was doing.

“Punch the air,” they say. So I do.

“Well, you almost, sort of have it. But you have to swing with fifteen more Newton’s of force, and then with a forty-two-point-six-five degree bend in your arm, twist your wrist at an acute angle and then, while you twist the kettle bell at the rate of fifty RPM, punch the air like you mean it.”

Ooohhhh. Is that all? And to think I thought it was difficult….

I guess there is a possibility that maybe, someday, the stars will align and heaven will shine down on me and a heavenly choir engulfed in bright white light will sing “Hallelujah” as an angel bestows upon me the gift of coordination.

Ha! Between that and the Kettle Bell snatch….I definitely think the heavenly choir will happen first.

Me Vs. The White Board

I’ve heard CrossFit coaches talk about how workouts are “You vs. The White Board”. I think their implication is that it is just a blank inanimate, non-breathing, non-being object, so what you are really doing is competing against is yourself.

Well, I say Ha! And Bologna! (and nuts and broccoli if we Zone it….)

Oh, I see the evil white board staring back at me. At the beginning of the workout it acts all innocent. It is a blank, modest, rectangle just playing it coy, shuffling its feet in the dirt and whistling an unassuming tune as if to say, “I’m totally harmless.”

Then with an air of “hey, it’s no big deal,” it very casually posts the workout.

That is when you see the first glimmer of maliciousness. It is just a glint, and only later do you realize what it was.

“Burpees,” it says, to which I respond, “bleh! I hate those!” but I don’t want to appear weak, so I quickly add, “Bring. It. On.”

“Wall Balls, fourteen pounds” it continues.

“Fine, no biggie,” I say, restraining from wiping the nervous sweat on my brow, hoping that it will go unnoticed.

“400 meter runs…five of them!” It says, getting a little impatient its inability to outwardly unsettle my composure.

“OK, great.” I say, perhaps with a little less conviction, but if it really is just Me vs. The Whiteboard, I don’t want to give it the upper hand too early.

“Twenty minute time cap! GO!”

Well, that wasn’t very much warning, was it? But it is only twenty minutes; I can withstand pain, ignore lactic acid and trudge through twenty minutes of hell.

So I begin the workout in what I can only describe as a restrained sprint. Pushing as hard as I should knowing that, like rich food, money, and fame, too much too soon will only hurt in the end.

I read the tabloids, I know these things.

But the clock and the white board have a secret alliance and are in cahoots. As I get closer to my goal, the White Board, eyes red with rage, gives the Clock a subtle nod to speed up. The Clock; the Smee to the White Board’s Captain Hook, the Pinky to the White Board’s Brain, the Sundance Kid to the White Board’s Butch Cassidy; happily obliges. No way is the White Board going to give up a victory, not if there is anything it can do to stop me.

Yes, it is unfair, but there are no referee’s in this match. And technically I’m the one that keeps coming back to the White Boards’ turf, so I really can’t complain now, can I?

The clock is a vigilant cohort and is mindful to speed up the closer I get to completing the workout. It shares a gleeful chuckle with the White Board when there are only two short minutes left to go. Surely, they think sharing a knowing look, that I will tap out and bow down their greatness

But this is where there is a flaw in their maniacal plan. Silly non-living things! No way am I going to lose at this point. I’ve come too far at this point to fail. Not only am I going to prevail, but I’m going to do it with a minute to spare because that’s just the way I roll.

Okay, sure, I want to keel over and vomit when it is all done, but the points the White Board gets for those things are insignificant compared to a victory.

And so, to add insult to injury, I plaster my name with my time and my weights ON the White Board; a temporary tattoo to remind it that I am the victor of this round.

When I take a step back, I see what the coaches are talking about. The White Board has lost its life-like luster and is back to being inanimate. Taking a look at the clock confirms that the clock face isn’t actually alive. But they have merely retreated in the agony of defeat.

I know they’ll be back, but I’ve chalked up another victory, so I feel much better equipped to take them on tomorrow.

Dancing Burns Calories Too

This morning before our workout, there was a small amount of aerobics/dancing happening. And then, don't know why, this song got stuck in my head. Makes you want to stop what your doing and act a fool dancing around!

Enjoy!

OYO Workouts

When I was a swimmer in college, I loved OYO (On Your Own) workouts. I lived for them. They usually followed an extended run of grueling workouts that I think were actually endurance tests contracted by the US Coast Guard to see how long people could swim without drowning.

The OYO workouts were usually short and sweet and the coaches could actually trust you to complete them with little or no supervision. At least, they were short enough that you couldn’t shave off too much yardage without being noticed. But I can guarantee that once one person stopped (the person that was able to sprint through a majority of the workout the fastest) everyone stopped. Yardage started at 1 and ended at whenever-everyone-else-was-stopping.

Nowadays workouts are different. The most obvious thing is that there is no swimming in CrossFit (did anyone else just hear Tom Hanks say “There’s no crying in baseball!!!” No? Just me? …Got it). Gone are the days of workouts that contain the imminent threat of death by drowning. Workouts are also blissfully shorter; the longest CF workout is still much shorter than the shortest swimming workout.

And then there are the OYO workouts. CF OYO workouts are LITERALLY on your own. There isn’t a pool full of other people that you can follow to stop at your earliest convenience. And, more importantly, these workouts are not by design, nor should they be by execution, easier than the other workouts that you do.

Yes, there is the potential for the workouts to be easier, simply because it is totally, completely, 100% dependent upon how hard you push yourself.

Are you going as deep as you can on your pushups? Are you running as fast as you can on your 400’s? How long are you resting between reps? Is twenty minutes closer to eighteen, because there is no way you could finish another round in the last two minutes? Are you really counting out ten burpees – or did seven of them feel like ten, so ten will do (because, if we are being honest, one feels like ten)? These are things you have to check and double check and dig deep to find your inner coach to yell at you.

I know I don’t want Lance or JDP catching me slacking off. I have a sixth sense for judgment and I don’t want that radar to go off for being judged for being lazy or a quitter. Sure, I may make a face or say less than lady-like words, but me a lazy quitter…nuh-uh!

This week I was doing on of the prescribed workouts for I Am CrossFit and I am pretty sure people were like, “uh, where’s the fire?” I was practically pushing people out of the way on the mini-indoor track so I could finish my 400’s.

Did they not realize that I only had twenty minutes to be a badass? And if they were paying closer attention to their workouts (read: sitting around and doing nothing between sets of ten) then they really shouldn’t have concerned themselves with what I was doing.

(And to the person walking the track, I’m sorry I clipped you on my third round. But seriously…who goes to the gym to walk the track?? You are like, 30 not 80!)

The real beauty of the OYO workouts for CF, are that they really make you see how hard you can push yourself and how badly you want to improve. And, sure, you can write down five rounds when you really did four – but why lie to yourself? This isn’t a term paper. You’re not being graded on it. The only person you are hurting is yourself, and…well, why would you want to do that? Like in swimming when we told the coaches we trained over Christmas break, but actually sat around and just thought about training…the coaches can tell. That is their sixth sense. Be prepared to be judged.

I, for one, signed up for CrossFit for extra push, the extra incentive, the extra ally-oop needed to really achieve my goals. But the coaches and group workouts can only do so much. So my OYO workouts – those are something to behold! Just ask anyone at the gym….especially the people walking the track. J

Hmph..."virtue" my...er...nevermind

Think back to when you were a kid. Let’s say about 8-10 years old.

Are you there? Good. OK, now think, as your 8-10 year old self, and try to remember that anticipatory feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when there was something really exciting coming up that you were waiting for. Something like Christmas, a trip to a water park or, if you are a wee bit on the nerdy side like me, the first day of school.

Do you have it? That antsy-with-excitement feeling? The feeling that makes seconds seem like minutes, minutes seem like hours, hours seem like days, days seem like weeks and weeks feel like decades – that feeling?

That, my friends, is what it is like for me right now waiting to see results.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that I’ve had results. I am stronger and faster than when I started a couple of months ago, my diet is as good as it’s ever been and for the first time in a long time I have fitness goals that are more specific than “lose weight”. But those aren’t results that can be seen in a mirror.

It would be amazing to look in the mirror and say, “you know; I think I do look faster…and, yeeees, yes…when I look closely, I see those excellent fitness goals radiating on me!” – but I digress.

No, this isn’t a matter of not getting results; I’m already on track to get those. This is merely a matter of me being the most impatient person on Earth. Seriously, how long have I been doing this challenge? A week?

I’ll remind you that, since I have apparently reverted to my prepubescent self, a week feels like a decade. And ten years does seem like an awfully long time to see results, doesn’t it? When you think about it, I really deserve a nomination to sainthood for being patient for that long.

Take yesterday for example. The workout really hurt in that good “I-hope-my-legs-fall-off-so-I-can-have-a-legitimate-excuse-to-get-out-of-this-workout” type of way. But, alas, my legs survived the workout (barely), and off I went to go get ready for the day. As I’m getting ready I was looking in the mirror, as one is inclined to do (I, for one, have never mastered the skill of putting on eyeliner without the aide of a mirror) and I thought to myself hmph…I don’t look any different than yesterday.

That’s right, not a lick different. These inches that are supposed to “fall off” (I object to that term, but that’s an argument for another day) are…not so much. But again it has only been a decade..er...week.

The thing is, like Christmas, the water park or the first day of school, I know that my day will come. I know that in another few decades (read: weeks (grumble)), I will see what the trifecta of CrossFit, zone diet and Advocare supplements can do for me. I’ll just have to find my Zen spot and wait like everyone else to see what happens.

But until then, all I can do is sit in the backseat of my parents car and ask, “are we there yet?!”

Ummm…still no.

This song brings me back....

I used to LOVE this song! It was playing this morning while we did our workout, and I felt immediately transported to being 11-12 years old when I would listen to it on my CD player (yep...CD player) during swim meets to get me pumped up. Listening to it really brings me back. I can almost smell the chlorine....



I don't miss swim caps though...I don't care what you look like, it's not an attractive look.



Listen. Enjoy.

The Definition of Strength

I love the word “strength”. It covers so many qualities, and can be used in so many contexts.

Most obvious of course is physical strength which is measured in power, force and endurance. It is not easy to attain and I highly covet my personal strength. I work hard for it, damn it, so of course I’m going to be proud of it!

When you are up at 5:00 am most days of the week, dripping sweat on the floor, beet red with exertion, shaking with every repetition, gasping for every breath and still trying to equal or beat the person next to you, well, then you would be me. BUT if you do something similar (CrossFit…shout out!) then you may truly understand the prize that is physical strength.

But that is not my personal definition of strength.

Strength defines so many other characteristics that it is really difficult to pinpoint a favorite. There is mental strength, emotional strength, spiritual, political, and military strength. Strength can define your fortitude in the face of danger, hardship or turmoil.

It is wonderful to have strength in those attributes, and I hope that I show a modicum of resilience in each of those categories, but still, that is not my definition of strength.

You can have strong words that are mean or meaningful. Strong desires that are impossible to attain or resist. Strength in numbers (as any Red Rover champion knows, numbers are very important!) Strength in character that shows you are honest and fair, moral strength which is guided by your principles.

I believe I carry some strength in each of these things, yet still, I believe there is a better definition of the one syllable word.

Of course strength can also define the health of your hair and nails or the level of ones personal pungence. Those with a strong stomach can ride rollar coasters and eat habanero peppers while those with strong molars are popular at parties with their ever so novel "opening a bottle with their teeth" trick.

Those, of course, are almost an insult to the word.

You see, the true definition of strength is a bit more detailed, more specific. Today, I was faced with a challenge that tested that specifically defined strength and I am happy to say that I rose up and met the challenge face on.

At this point I feel it necessary to put in a disclaimer.

Try not to be jealous of my strength. It’s taken years of training. I’ve faced similar obstacles and failed. People of greater physical prowess have tried with disastrous results. So don’t fret if you would have caved. With the right training, the proper motivation and perhaps a CrossFit wristband glaring you in the face, you too will be able to achieve such superhuman and phenomenal strength.

Strength to me means being forced to order, stare at, and then cut the company mandated birthday cake that is accompanied by one of your favorite things in the whole wide world (ice cream)…and not even licking your fingers.

No applause necessary. Really.

Angie

Today marked the first workout of the month which was also the first group workout since the benchmark on Saturday. It was the "Angie" workout.

Here is Angie:

• 100 pull-ups
• 100 push-ups
• 100 sit-ups
• 100 squats

I want to really be clear with how I felt about the workout: IT SUCKED! And by sucked I mean it hurt. Really hurt. By the end of the pull-ups I could only do 2 before having to take a break. By the end of the push-ups, I could only do 1 before my arms said, "um, excuse us, Shannon, do you know how heavy you are?!?! Umm...we quit."

I guess the good thing is that I did all but about 5 of the push-ups on my knees and I did every single rep of every single thing. And the workout didn't kill me. Towards the end of the push-ups I thought my arms would rebel, jump out of their sockets and beat my skull in to prevent any more self-inflicted pain...but thank goodness this is real life and not some really weird science-fiction horror movie called Cross Fit: Revenge of the Lactic Acid.

But I guess I didn't sign up for "easy", did I?

It's funny. We were given these rubber bracelet's to wear as a reminder to stay on course for the eight week challenge. I know we have just started, but the silly piece of rubber is oddly inspiring. It makes me want to stick to my diet and do the extra workouts.

I was thinking about Finding Nemo when Dorie is singing "just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming..." The bracelet is a less sing-songy reminder to just keep CrossFitting. And zoning. And Advocare-ing.

It's almost like the coaches know what they are doing.

The Calm Before the Storm?

Yesterday we completed the benchmark workout for the I Am CrossFit challenge. It was the "before" so we can better gage our "after". I qualified it as Day One because, in my mind, that is when the challenge started. Actually it sort of started for me the day before...I was so nervous about Saturday morning that I was zone perfect on my diet all day and went to bed early - on a Friday night, no less!


Today is my day off. Not from the Zone and not in an I'm-going-to-lie-around-all-day-and-do-nothing type of day, but rather, it is my day off from working out. I feel like it is sort of the calm before the storm because the I Am CrossFit challenge hasn't really started. I haven't talked about specifics with my coach yet, I haven't had to be accountable for a food journal, I haven't had to be responsible for workouts done on my own...but I feel like that will all change tomorrow.


It's not that it is even going to be that big of a change for me. I've worked out 5-6 times per week for a long time now and I've been following the Zone for about a month already. Granted, that month fell in the holiday season and while I practiced restraint VERY well (if I do say so myself) I know that I gave myself allowances here and there! And I'm not even going to apologize for Christmas dinner. I'm not going to talk about it either. Let's just say that, while I didn't gorge myself, I am sure that it wasn't Zone friendly.


I did do a pretty intense workout that morning, it that makes any difference...


But all that is in the past and now I really want to make a change. I really want a big difference in my before and after photos. I want to see the inches and body fat percentage drop. I think that I want this challenge to be so successful that it is making me a bit nervous. I can handle the commitment, that's not a problem. But I've been committed before; am this going to be another one of those times that I work my ass off and get no results? That would be really hard for me.


Let's not count our chickens before they hatch, though. Tomorrow: OFFICIAL Day 1.

I Am CrossFit: Day 1

This is not a resolution.

I don't believe in resolutions. Here's a little known fact; "resolution" is actually a synonym for "lies we tell ourselves on January 1st." True story. 

No, this isn't a resolution. This is a jump start. I Am CrossFit is a jump start to a lifestyle...um...tweak. I definitely wouldn't call it a change for me. I've always worked out and followed a healthy diet. I just haven't been exercising and dieting the right way. For me at least. I mean...do you SEE the photo? I'm in the middle and am a big soft softy! Not exactly what I want to see when I look in a mirror. I'm kinda embarrassed to post it, actually...but that's why I'm doing this, isn't it?

Ah...vanity. It is an excellent motivator!

Anyway, a couple of months ago I was talking to Megan, one of my coworkers. She had been looking absolutely incredible, which is saying a lot because I never would have thought of her as looking bad before. She told me about this workout thing called CrossFit. She knew that I worked out a lot and, like her, was an athlete in college and she highly recommended that I go through the Elements program and give CrossFit a try.

Well, I was sick and tired of running endless hours of cardio and getting no results. Sure I was in shape, but I hadn't shaped up at all. And, because we were all treated like sumo wrestling line backers in my college weight room, I've had an irrational fear of lifting weights on my own and getting bulky. But Megan looked great, I needed a change, and everything I was doing on my own wasn't working, so I signed up. 

Here are some things that I've learned about CrossFit in the past 2 months.

• CrossFit is hard
• CrossFit is only as hard as you push yourself
• You are the only thing that holds you back
• I'm not a quitter, but I would never want to quit in front of these people. They are hardcore! 
• It is a really awesome and supportive community
• I do more in 20 minutes at CrossFit than I would accomplish on my own in an hour before.

So here I am at the beginning of the year, and I am signed up for I Am CrossFit. It is an 8 week program that involves diet, exercise, and supplements. Do I think it will be easy? No. But I've been trying to lose inches off of my body for over a year now - 8 weeks is just a drop in that bucket. 

We have to keep a food and exercise journal, and I figured I might as well keep a regular journal too. Maybe it will keep me accountable. Maybe I can use it as a reference point for talking to my coach. Maybe it won't help at all. Who knows!

Day 1 Stats: (I don't remember all of the measurements, but they are written down and with my coach in all of their embarrassing glory!)

Weight: 178 

Body Fat %: 28.5% (or 29.5%...I don't really remember...I think I was blocking it from my memory)

Benchmark Workout: (400 M Run, 15 pull-ups, 7x 65lb hang cleans) - 10:14

I've never been too hung up on weight...muscle weighs more than fat, right? But I'm not too happy about the body fat%. Or the inches. But that's what these next 8 weeks are all about, right?

So here goes nothing!