The Endless Plateau

In college, I took a course on Sports Psychology. I had originally enrolled in the class for a few reasons: It fit into my schedule, it was accepted as part of my degree program, it wasn't too early or late in the day, I was a scholarship athlete, so it had excellent potential to be an easy 'A' (who better to understand the psychology of Sport than those that lived and breathed it, after all), and of course, peer pressure - all of the other athletes (read: cool kids) were doing it. 

Basically, I took it for all the wrong reasons. It didn't matter though, because the course ended up being accidentally fantastic. 

The professor was the University track coach, Dr. Rick McGuire. If there was one thing he ingrained into our brains to take away from the class, it was "learn to love the plateau". I think he may have said it twenty times a day: "love the plateau," "LOVE the plateau," "love the PLATEAU," It was a tuneless broken record that we heard every. Single. Day.

I hated the plateau. 

We are supposed to love the plateau. It is supposedly better than the alternative of getting worse. We are supposed to relish in the knowledge that we are depositing workout money in our workout bank so one day when we find the right combination, we can open the vault and marvel in the workout fortune that we have deposited the whole time that we weren't actively getting better.

But being on a plateau is incredibly frustrating. Every repetition, every jump, every step, every bead of sweat seems like it is for nothing. It is like getting on a treadmill and being told, "don't get off until you are done,". Well, when is that? How many steps do I have to take until I am "done"?How long will this take? Where is everyone else? They seem to all be done now, why can't I be done too!? What a horribly vague and annoyingly elusive standard!

I feel like I am on a CrossFit plateau right now. This particular plateau is full of pull-ups and push-ups and squats (oh my!). I don't feel stronger. I don't feel faster. I don't think I've lost anymore fat percentage despite sticking to a good diet. I am just stuck. 

I am in CrossFit Limbo. 

Dr. McGuire's voice is in my head saying, "love the plateau, Shannon, LOVE THE PLATEAU!" The plateau isn't the worst place to be. It is better than, say, falling in a crevice. Or slipping back down all the way to base camp. He's right, I know he's right. 

And sometimes accepting that you have to be patient is the hardest part.

Stupid plateau.

What goes up....

Isn’t it always when things are going well that everything starts crashing in around you? 

It isn’t that my life has been some sort of amazing fairy tale about living the dream life in the dream apartment with the dream guy, the dream job and (clearly if you follow this blog you know) having the dream body. No, no! Au contraire! Rather I have a relatively normal life, a small apartment, am single and work my ass off to achieve some semblance of the dream body. 

That’s right, Giselle, watch out. At this rate I am about 6 months away from…well, needing completely different genes to compete with you, quite frankly. BUT don’t underestimate a girl on a mission! 

Anyway, so life hasn’t been perfect, but I’d been trudging along, doing the best that I can. 

Things were going pretty well and last Tuesday (St. Patrick’s Day! Woot!) was my birthday. And (sorry CF coaches) when your birthday is on St. Patrick’s Day, you are required by law to go out, drink green beer and make everyone jealous that their birthday isn’t as nearly as awesome. I even took the day after my birthday off – I had some carry over days to burn and why risk having to work hungover?

And then, Thursday came. 

I went to CF in the AM as usual and completed the workout. While we were stretching, someone made the comment “You’re 27 and not married yet?!?!” 

Um, no. No I’m not, thank you very much. I didn’t realize it was such a big deal, but hey, thanks for making me feel good about it.

So then I go home and get dressed all snazzy-like for work (because if you have to be at work, you might as well look snazzy while doing it) and I actually made it into work a little bit early. So I go to my desk, like always, start answering emails, like always, and just generally go about doing my job.  And then…

“Shannon, can I see you in the conference room for a minute?”

It was my boss. The room she wanted to see me in was the room that they take you for bad news. My stomach sank. 

The next ten or so minutes are a bit of a blur, but the cliff’s notes version is: I was laid off.

Not fired. Laid off. There’s a difference. 

YET, while there is a difference, it didn’t really make that punch to my stomach feel any better. 

The woman who came in to our office to tell me the bad news (they actually have people whose job it is to fire you! I’m sorry -to lay you off (because there’s a difference)) was attempting to make me feel better by asking about my “support system.”

“Do you live alone?” she asked in what is quite frankly an annoyingly perky voice to hear right after you find out that your position with a company is no longer needed.

“Yes. Yes I do.” Can I just leave, or do I have to sit here and put up with this even though I no longer have a job?

“Oh. Well…that’s nice,” she says and then perks up again, “do you have a boyfriend?”

FOR THE LOVE OF PETE!! REALLY? Was EVERYONE sent to Earth today to make me feel bad about being single? I’ve already had to RSVP to four weddings this summer as a “nope, I’ll just be coming all by lonesome. Got nobody to come with me.” 

Clearly, the blow of losing one’s job isn’t painful enough, so they have to point out other ways that your life is inadequate. 

“No…no I don’t have a boyfriend.” Scowl.

“Oh. Well,” she perks up and says (I am not making this up) “maybe now is a good time to, you know, find one!”

Um, excuse me?

That seems like an excellent idea. I’ll just march on down to the unemployment office and give all of the unemployed fella’s my best come hither “I’m-unemployed-too” stare. Because, really, who wouldn’t find that to be an attractive quality?

I think my blank stare and lack of response must have seemed encouraging because she then said to me, “I don’t know if you work out or follow a diet, but now is an excellent time to start watching those things,” and she hands me a pamphlet with nutrition information and work out guides.

This has to be some sort of joke. Do I look like I don’t work out or follow a diet? No really, do I? Because if this woman had to make that comment, then I had no reason to be on cloud nine a couple of weeks ago. Then, all of my food measuring and early morning CrossFit sessions aren’t working. Then why am I trying so hard when clearly I am not getting results?

And so, the downward spiral went. Down and down I went on my single (and apparently soft and out of shape) spiral. I rode that spiral hyperventilating all the way back to my (small) apartment, wallowed there for a few hours, took a trip farther down the spiral when I went for a run on the trail (running while crying is not highly recommended), came back to my apartment and kept the wallowing spiral going while I answered the bazillion “Um, you are not at work, were you laid off?” texts I’d received. 

And then you know what I did? (Once again, sorry CF coaches!) I drank. Noooo, not alone. I hadn’t quite reached that level of rock bottom. I did my drinking with a friend.

But while I was imbibing in a few, I was able to put things in perspective. Did I love that job? No. It was making me a giant ball of stress. Did I need that nutrition handout? No! I don’t! Do I feel bad about not having a boyfriend? Well, not usually, but since it was rubbed in my face so many times I sort of still did….but I’m human. And had a bad day. So give me a break.

And that goes to you too, Universe. I would like you to give me a break, please. Perhaps while I am gainfully unemployed we can achieve my perfect Giselle body so that when I once again have a job, I will be more attractive to all the fellas (and then I'll dazzle them with my wit and mind, of course). And not just the unemployed ones, either…

I think it will be a little bit before I am able to hit cloud nine again. It was nice while I was up there, but the crash down to Earth was a bit of a doozy. But, as they say, onward and upward! It’s time to take the next big step. 

Taking A Seat on Cloud Nine

Everyone loves a compliment.

Wait. Strike that. Everyone loves a genuine, unsolicited, unreciprocal and unexpected (henceforth known as a GU3) compliment.

We’ve all been on the flip side and have received the fake (“This chicken casserole is so…um...unique! I never would have thought to pair Broccoli, Peanut Butter, and crushed Oreos in one dish….”), solicited (question “how does my butt look in these jeans?” answer “Amazing! You have the most amazing derriere I’ve ever seen!”), reciprocated (to someone “Wow! I’ve never seen someone do so well in a workout! You killed it!” their response “Thanks! I mean, you did well too…what was your time again?”), and expected (“Oh. My. Gah. You are such a beautiful bride!) compliments.

Those compliments….aren’t so special.

But if you have the good fortune of receiving a real GU3 compliment, well, I sure hope you aren’t afraid of heights because Cloud Nine will be taking you for a little ride!

With a lead in like that, is there any doubt that I was on the receiving end of such compliment recently?

And now, I shall share that story with you.

My sister came to visit and we were going to grab a bite to eat (if anybody asks, it was zoned, k?) and as I was putzing about my apartment getting “out in public” ready, talking about heaven knows what (the price of rice in China or something equally as inane), and my sister interrupts me to say (wait for it…here it comes) “Shannon, your legs look absolutely amazing.”

WASN’T THAT THE NICEST THING YOU HAVE EVER HEARD EVER, EVER?!?!

I know! I thought so too!

Then I had a momentary feeling of “I am a very shallow person,” and then I got over it. I’ve been Zoning, Advocaring, and CrossFitting my butt off for months now! You best be believin’ that I took that compliment, wrapped it in a blanket, tied it with a bow, locked it in a box, bedazzled said box and then put that beautiful, bedazzled, boy and box adorned blanket on display with a big neon arrow saying “GU3 Compliment. In case of an emergency or moment of severe doubt, open box for a feeling of pure elation”.

The timing of the compliment couldn’t have been better. I know I had results from the I Am CF Challenge - I’ve got those measurements on paper (that is also certified, framed, and dipped in bronze for good measure) as proof positive that I achieved results. But so far no one outside of CrossFit has said anything to me, and I haven’t personally noticed any life altering transformations (which I am choosing to take with a grain of salt since I am my own worst enemy) so while I know the results are there, I was beginning to wonder how much there they really were.

It also made me think. That one, silly little six word sentence really made my day/night/weekend. I think real compliments should be said out loud the moment they pop into your brain…you never know whose day you are going to make a little bit brighter.

So in the future don’t be alarmed if you hear me blurt out a compliment in Turrets-style, spontaneous fashion. Cloud Nine is fun and all, but it is more enjoyable with a little bit of company.

The Earth Mother and the Drill Sergeant

I am in an epic battle. With myself.

The good news is that it means I am winning. Unfortunately it also means that I am losing, so the win doesn’t really seem that triumphant.

Here’s the problem. I know that I can’t be (nor do I actually want to be) perfect, but there is this little, itty-bitty, tiny, niggling part of me that absolutely demands it.

Whenever I don’t get the results that I want it yells at me like a tiny drill sergeant screaming, “That’s not OK! You’ve failed! FAILED I SAY! You are DOOMED to be a FAILURE FOREVAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!”

The drill sergeant really is a mean little bugger.

So, the little drill sergeant is planted squarely on one of my shoulders, while the other shoulder is inhabited by a willowy Earth Mother-type saying in slow, languid tones, “Oh, Shannon my dear, its oooookaaaaay. You did your best, and next time will be even better!”

The two of them are constantly at odds and go back and forth, and back and forth. I prefer listening to the Earth Mother; she is calm, soothing and reassuring. But the drill sergeant is so loud that he is impossible to ignore all the time.

And so rages the battle. It’s more a battle of words than the actual clang of weapons, but I sometimes wish the Earth Mother would get off of her haunches, march over to my other shoulder, and kick the drill sergeant off! Why does he insist on perfection? And why is he there at all…I’ve never been even close to perfect – he should have given up on me LONG ago!

And the weird thing is, the harder he pushes me to be perfect, the less perfect I become. It’s actually been the times in my life that I’ve decided to stop trying so hard (not quit, mind you. I’m not a quitter) that I’ve actually done my best. It’s these moments, I suppose, the Earth Mother was able to clamp her hand over the Drill Sergeant’s mouth long enough to give me a brief reprieve from his incessant goading.

Perhaps it is the freedom to fail that allows me to succeed.

Wow. That. Was. DEEP.

(Disclaimer: Try not to be intimidated by my profound insight. It was a brief moment of clarity and I promise, those are few and far between)

So, Drill Sergeant, I hope you are reading this. I am prepared to fail. And I don’t want you to make me cry or feel bad about myself anymore. Do you hear me? No more making me feel bad. Not cool, Drill Sergeant, not cool.

I think I may see a white flag of truce waving right now. Let’s hope it lasts.

A Conversation with "Easy"

Hi, Shannon.

Um….hellooooo….?

Do want to hang out with me? We used to be such good friends!

Really? I’m sorry, and I hate to be rude, but I don’t really recognize you….

Isn’t it obvious? My lenient and comforting demeanor doesn’t give it away?

Nope.

Would it help if I mentioned that I…”got around,” if you know what I mean (*wink wink*)

Ew. I think I know what you’re saying - but I wish I didn’t.

Perhaps this giant red button that I’m wearing helps? It was given to me by the kind folks at Staples as a gift for lending them my name.

No, no. I get it. I remember, I remember. You’re “Easy”. I thought I broke things off with you a while ago….

That’s right…but, so much time has passed, surely you remember the good times. Besides, everyone likes it over here.

Who’s “everyone”? The people over there? Gosh, they are a lot softer than I remember…

But look at how carefree they are! They are having a grand old time, not a care in the world! Life’s great when you hang with me!

They look a little, er, lazy to me.

Well, sure we sometimes hang out with Lazy. You remember good old Lazy? He’s great to have around on a hot afternoon. We’re really in no rush over here.

I’m sure. Look, I appreciate your offer, but I roll with “Industrious” now so, I think I’ll stick just with him.

Industrious? Why would you want to hang with him? Things are SO much harder with Industrious! He does things all day with “Challenging” and “Motivating”.

Yeah, I know.

But he makes you sweat! It’s not a good look for you bangs when they are all sweaty. Besides, you always have to be on your toes with him! Don’t you just want to lay back and kick it with me? I’ll let you in on a secret…we have Margarita’s over here….

I do love Margarita’s….but no…no. I’m good with Industrious.

We also have pizza and ice cream. If I remember correctly, you are partial to those.

Oh you bet I am! But, Industrious would give me that look; you know, the one your parents gave you when they were disappointed with you. And, I just couldn’t do that to him. It would be bad.

You know, Shannon, I am about to give up on you. You are ruining my mellow vibe.

That’s cool. I was about to hop into a workout with Kicks-Some-Ass anyway. Have you met Kicks-Some-Ass? I think that’s his Native American name….

Sounds grueling to me! If you were with me, your heart rate wouldn’t even elevate.

I know. That’s part of the problem. I didn’t fit my clothes when I was with you.

But look! We all have matching sweats now! Nice and stretchy…they are all purpose! Look, we even got it embroidered with “Easy” across the butt. Niiice, huh?

Ummm….I really don’t think that’s a good idea. On so many levels…..

OK, they’re gone! See? EASY! What about this…this is a nice floral print Miu Miu. They’ve been around for decades! A classic look! Nice and roomy….

Look, you’re REALLY not helping yourself here. It’s not going to work. I thought about it and I was really unhappy with you, Easy. I mean, we had a great run, and sure, there are sometimes when I wish I could sleep in, eat burgers and fries for every meal and watch 12-hour marathon’s of Project Runway, but don’t you remember when I came crying to you when I had to go buy a new pair of jeans because my other ones were too tight?

You looked great in the new jeans! You can’t help that the dryer shrunk your old ones!

The dryer didn’t shrink my jeans! You made my butt grow out of them!

You always looked good to me, baby! Who’s feeding you nonsense over there?

No one. Challenging and I have had really long talks together. It’s been great, honest communication. He doesn’t just tell me what I want to hear.

Whatever you say. Look, this is taking way too much of my time and there is a teenager that needs me to point them in the direction of Cliff’s Notes. Can you believe his teacher actually wants him to READ Crime and Punishment? I’m telling you, the things schools ask for these days… So I’m gonna go. But, if you ever want to meet up again, just ditch those folks you hang with and I’ll find you…you don’t need to worry your little head about finding me!

I think this is good-bye, Easy. Life without you is just, more rewarding. So, bye! Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!

Doneskies

The I Am CrossFit challenge is over! O-ver! Done-diddly-done-done! And I am one happy girl!

I’m happy because (I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this…) it is over. Staying on point all the time is exhausting!

I’m happy because I did it! I set my goals, worked towards my goals and accomplished my goals.

I’m happy because for the first time in two years, I am actually seeing results from my workouts. Workouts, mind you, that aren’t two hour workout-until-you-drop marathon sessions. I know. Its nuts.

Happy because I dropped nearly 5% body fat! Of course I still have more to drop. I’d like to drop at least another 3-5% in the next two months. But this challenge was great because I now see what I can accomplish in just two months.

I’m happy because I don’t have to do the benchmark workout again. OUCH!!! That was NOT fun! And, who ordered the wind on Saturday? That made the running BRUTAL!

I’m happy because (and I can’t believe I’m saying this) CrossFit makes me happy. The thing that beats me up and down the gym every time I’m there, the thing that drags me out of bed at 5 AM, the thing that is by and large the most painful thing I do every day, actually makes me happy! Go figure – but I love it. I think it has something to do with workout endorphins…

And on a similar note, I’m happy because of the CrossFit community. Everyone is so incredibly supportive. I wanted to give up on the last run (I was hurting) but my fellow early-riser Jayson told me to keep going. My workout buddy Heather is a huge reason why I finally am getting the hang of (get it…getting the hang of?) Kipping Pull-ups; she really helps push and motivate me and is a constant ball of energy! And also Mel who I've never taken a class with, but have gotten to know through the CF community and she is awesome. I mean, really, what else do you need to know about a person but that they are a badass CrossFitter. It speaks volumes, doesn't it?

I couldn’t have finished the workout at all if it weren’t for Lance, JDP, Randal, and Mike talking me (ok, yelling me) through the entire twelve minutes. Twelve minutes can seem like a really long time when your entire body hurts! Lance REALLY had to get me through the last minute when I was down to the wire (finished in 11:54). He kept yelling “one more! Short breaks! Short breaks!” If I weren’t absolutely DYING I would have yelled back “YOU do one more, this IS a short break!” I think that’s why the coaches' yelling intensifies toward the end of workouts – you are simply too tired to yell back.

And of course I can’t forget Megan, who (silly girl) gave me her AIM name, so I could IM her all day every day about Life the Universe and Everything!

This is the first thing I’ve done for myself in a long time and for the first time in a long time I know where I am. I know the direction I want to go with my career, I know the people I want to spend time with, I know what I want to do with my free time...I just know things where there were question marks before. I know I’ve gotten cheesy sentimental, and it seems like I've won an Oscar and not just finished a twelve minute workout (and I promise I’m about to stop) but I feel like CrossFit has been really clarifying.

And when it comes down to it, that makes me a happy girl.