OUCH!!!!

This mornings workout brought back visions from when I was a collegiate swimmer.

I didn't have to wear a speedo, I didn't have that distinctive aroma of having jumped into a vat of bleach once the workout was over, I didn't have to sport the oh-so attractive swim cap, and there wasn't actually any swimming involved (thank goodness, I wouldn't want to start up again too soon. It's only been five years since the last time I swam laps; but I do think I'll be ready to get back in the water soon - like in about.....oh, I dunno, another decade. Or two. Wouldn't want to rush things).

No, this mornings workout reminded me of swimming because it was so freakin' hard and the lactic acid built up so freakin' much that I wanted to keel over and die.

If that isn't a PSA for swimming or CrossFit, I don't know what is.

TWO (2!) one mile runs? ONE HUNDRED pull-ups? The only "reprieve" was the 150 sit-ups, and they only felt like a reprieve because for the tiniest, splittiest of seconds, you get to be lying down and fool your body into thinking that it could rest.

It started out well, I suppose. I was out the gate with a seven minute mile. Not bad, I thought but I clearly didn't think of the lasting repercussions. Now the coaches might actually think that I am not god-awful at running. Which, if you asked any of my teammates from my days as a water creature, is actually hilarious. 

I did finish all of the pull-ups and all of the sit-ups and managed to not die on the final run. But after it was all over, my body HATED me. The familiar cramp of lactic acid, the refusal of your lungs to intake any oxygen, the desire to lie down but your body's refusal to stop moving because stopping would only make you pinpoint the pain, the desperate scan of the terrain for a cliff to hurl yourself off of....

Just when you think you have a handle on the things CrossFit slings at you, they kick you in the ass.

Well played, CFC, well played.

Ugh. SQUATS!!

Apparently, word got out and squats heard that I was talking smack about them. 

Well, they got the last laugh. I may not love every movement we do in CrossFit, but there are very few of them that I am so inept at that I feel like crying out of frustration. 

Overhead squats almost made me cry this morning. My squats were absolutely pathetic and, even though I could lift the prescribed amount, I had to keep going down in weight because my body doesn't like and would not do the overhead squat portion of the DB Snatch. 

Grrrrrr....

Damn you squats! 

Almost Paleo

I follow a really good diet. 

True, that's not the most objective comment I've ever made. Guilty as charged. But I do go through great pains to make sure that every meal is zoned. I am certain that if my apartment were burgled (burgled=a much more fun way of saying "robbed") and the thieves felt it necessary to steal my kitchen scale and my measuring cups, I could eyeball the amounts just fine. 

But since I have big goals that include losing inches and fat percentages and I have those things at my disposal, i figure, why risk being wrong? 

Through the zoning process, I've also gone almost completely paleo. Almost. So, so, so close...but I'm having trouble going all the way. 

Fats are incredibly simple for me, and I pretty much only have avocado, nuts, and olive oil. Simple, delicious, satisfying. Done.

For protein I alternate between steak, chicken, fish and eggs. I find all of them to be equally deliciously.

Carbs are not a problem. I'm all fruits and veggies all the time. I don't need or crave bread or pasta and I'm I can resist sugar with the best of them (I've always been a salty girl, anyway). 

I've even been able to be amazingly good about the amount of alcohol I drink. I do love beer and wine so those, I think, are extremely big sacrifices. Sure, I slipped a little the week of my birthday/unexpected lay off, but I feel like those were completely justified slips. 

To give you an idea of the magnitude of that sacrifice, allow me to offer an anecdote. 

When I backpacked through Europe after college, my best friend Chrissy and I did our absolute best to try the best that each country had to offer: Beer in germany and belgium, wine and champagne in France, Sangria in Spain, and of course, wine, wine, wine, wine, wine in Italy. We were fresh out of college and were doing our best to ensure that our Liver's were adequately damaged. 

At the end of our trip, we promised each other that when we retire, we would retire as wino's in Italy. I know what you are thinking, "those are lofty goals," and "but Shannon, you speak French! Not Italian!" 

First of all, Italian and French are both Romance languages, so I think I'll be able to pick it up AND I remember that "Prego" and "Scuzzi" were really the only two words that I needed. Secondly, I've always been one to aim high! Don't be jealous of my goals! 

Besides, I figure that by the time I retire, I'll have decades of CrossFit, zoning and other sacrifice behind me, so why not enjoy the Tuscan countryside with some delicious wine in my golden years?

Anyway, I digress.

So, except for the occasional slip up with alcohol (which, at 27 years old, I'm not going ot apologize for), WHAT is my problem? WHY can't I go all Paleo?

CHEESE!!!! Dagnubit! I love cheese! All cheese. Block, string, melted. Cheddar, Brie, Feta, Parmesan, Mozzarella, Pepper Jack, Cream Cheese....

It's not that I eat a lot of it. Just a little bit here and there: one or two tablespoons sprinkled on eggs or vegetables, a sliver or two of brie with a few grapes, a string cheese when you need protein in a pinch! It is especially good sprinkled on top of some pan roasted veggies that are mixed with a quarter cup of tomato sauce and then stick it under the broiler until it gets all beautifully brown and bubbly....yum!

(*Sigh*) cheese is like a bad habit. I think it was put on Earth to make people happy. But, in my quest to be better and achieve my goals, I think it is something I'm going to have to bid a temporary "Ciao" to. 

Ciao, Cheese. I'll miss you.

I Am....

I am a hard worker.

I am klutzy. Fact.

I am a great friend. 

I am smart, though not a genius; although I will sometimes claim to be in my rare insightful moments.

I am insecure about my body and am fighting a battle to accept it, but find that I lose on most days.

I am insecure about said insecurity. 

I am jealous of my sisters' ability to be effortlessly thin.

I am sarcastic, much to the chagrin of my british grandmother.

I am really good at sudoku and am addicted to Sumdoku. Try it, you will be too.

I am stressed about my future. 

I am a big dork who fronts as a cool person. 

I am not so sure I am successful at pulling it off.

I am obsessed with shoes. I don't care that I am almost six feet tall, I will rock 5 inch heels. 

I am clearly not insecure about my height.

I am competitive. 

I am not a bad loser. I just don't like losing. Big difference.

I am a horrible singer, but that doesn't stop me from singing on top of my lungs when no one is listening.

I am a wealth of knowledge of all things pop culture.

I am undefeated at six degrees of Kevin Bacon.

I am certain that I am meant for big things.

I am not sure what those things are.

I am an animal lover. They have the ability to warm and break my heart all at once.

I am getting better at pull-ups. 

I am still completely a girl about how they hurt my hands.

I am always willing to try something new. 

I am actually a really good cook. But while following the Zone, I tend to eat the same things every day. 

I am a twelve year old at heart, because my favorite foods ever ever in the entire world are pizza, french fries and ice cream. No joke. You know what I haven't really had since I've started doing the zone? Pizza...french fries....and ice cream. 

I am pretty sure I am the last one of my friends to get married. 

I am looking for new single friends. 

I am scared of open water. I am convinced that I will get eaten by a shark.

I am obsessed with the Discovery Channel. It's why I know so much about sharks. 

I am not entirely unsure that my cat isn't part ocelot. He is HUGE! 

I am tired of people lying. 

I am a big advocate of telling people the truth. Even hard truths can be said in nice ways. And it's better to hear it than to believe in lies.

I am trying to be a better person. 

I am trying to be more genuine.

I am trying to let down my guard and be more vulnerable.

I am scared of being vulnerable.

I am still figuring things out. 

I am a so much more than I can put into words or a single blog post.

I am Shannon.

Take THAT squats!

Every once in a while, I actually feel like I am making progress with CrossFit. 

I am not shy about admitting that squats are a major weakness of mine. One time I was asked, "which squats? Overhead, front, back....?" 

Yes. All of the above. I feel myself struggle even with the warm-up squats sometimes. Lance and JDP are constantly reminding me to push my knees out, get my chest up and to keep my weight in my heels. I try, really I do, but coordination (or lack thereof) has always been a bit of an issue for me.

I'd like to attribute it to having long legs and the sheer distance I need to drop just to get below parallel seems like miles more than the average bear (or crossfitter...whatever).

I don't know if that is valid reasoning or just an excuse I let myself believe so I don't feel so bad when I inevitably suck at squats.

So when I saw today's workout was 150 wall balls, my brain immediately said, "great. Squats." You see, 'squats' is one of those words that is seemingly innocent but is really a bad, horrible, nasty word. Like 'math' or 'work'. 

For example:

Would you like us a to add tip to that? 

Yes please!

OK, how much?

(*crickets*) Ugh! MATH!

Or:

Hey! We are all going out for drinks and a concert!

But it's Wednesday....

Yeah, so?

I can't. I have (*gulp*) WORK tomorrow...

See? Bad words! All of them!

Considering how much I abhor squats, I surprised even myself when, upon realizing there were more women in the class than there were prescribed fourteen pound balls, I actually volunteered to use the eighteen pound ball. 

What? Why??!?! Whhhyyyy did I do that to myself? 

I mean, I know why. Because I can't back down from a challenge. There is something inside of me that doesn't like being told I can't do something. It senses a challenge, jumps to attention, kicks common sense and reasoning in the shins and takes over. Zach was barking at the group saying 'which one of the ladies is going to step up and be hard core?' 

Oooh! Me! Pick me! I'm hard core! I promise! Yesssssssssss! I win! 

Wait. What did I just do? Crrrraaaaaaaap! Squats!

The first repetition wasn't that bad. Butt to ball, eighteen-friggin' pound med ball to the gray square. Nice. The first twenty-five weren't horrible. Even the first fifty went a little smoother than I thought. It was the last one hundred that really sucked. I kept asking Cindy, repping it out next to me, "are you sure the board said 150? Not just 50?"

I finished. I knew that I would finish, I had to. I just didn't finish very fast. Zach said something about getting it done in six minutes would be rock star. I finished in over twelve minutes. What does that make me? Washed up rock star? Indie singer? Jazz Saxapohonist? Karaoke champion? 

But here's the positive. I never struggled getting my derriere below parallel. That's a big feat for me. (One small step for CrossFit, one giant leap for Shannon!) I touched my butt to the ball on the ground every single time. And I got the eighteen pound ball up to the gray box for all 150 reps. And I finished. Sometimes, finishing is enough, you know? 

Sometimes I can actually look beyond the speed and look at the big picture. Sometimes. I'm sure tomorrow things will be back to normal and I'll micro analyze my CF workout and try and figure out how I could have done it better. 

But for today, I'm in such a positive mood, I think I'll email Mel and sign up for the 100 push-up challenge. In a few weeks, if you here me muttering math! work! and squats! under my breath, you'll know why.

Getting Strong Hurts

It's funny how many times I delude myself into thinking the CrossFit workout might be easy. 

Five days a week I wake up, hit snooze, wake up again, brush my teeth, pull on my workout clothes (which almost always have mismatched socks), grab some Catalyst, and drive to the CF gym. Throughout my whole morning routine, there is a voice in the back of my brain that says, "The workout might be easy today."

The lies we tell ourselves, right? 

I've never left a CF workout thinking it was easy. Short, maybe. I've finished some workouts in about five minutes. And sure, there are days that aren't as sweat inducing as others. Those are usually max weight days, but I definitely wouldn't call those "easy". Between you and me, if I did call them easy, word might get out and I would be in big fat trouble on the next max lift day.

This morning I woke up a little bit sore and a little bit tired from yesterday's workout. The lying voice in my head said, "You ran yesterday, there probably won't be running today." 

"You're probably right, voice! Good call!" I responded.

So merrily (sleepily) I drove on autopilot to the gym. As I was signing in, JDP said to me, "Did you see today's workout? It's really easy."

The alarms went off in my head, my innate human lie detector spiked and I knew I was in trouble. "I don't believe you," I said. 

Here is what JDP said was "easy":

• 400m run, 21 KB swings (RX for women: 24 kg or almost 53 lbs (!) (I googled it), 21 sit-ups
  
• 400m run, 18 KB swings, 18 sit-ups
• 400m run, 15 KB swings, 15 sit-ups
• 400m run, 12 KB swings, 12 sit-ups
• 400m run, 9 KB swings, 9 sit-ups
• 400m run, 6 KB swings, 6 sit-ups
• 400m run, 3 KB swings, 3 sit-ups

I ask you, in what world, what realm, what Universe is that easy?

Then Lance says that we would all start on different things (I missed the reason, I was too busy wondering how I was going to swing 53 lbs over my head when it felt like I was dragging an anchor over to my spot). I thought, "OK, start with the run, finish with the sit-ups, no problem."

Except, I somehow managed to be standing in the position that was assigned to start on the sit-ups and finish on the run. Were the coaches trying to crush every ounce of my spirit?

So off we went. The 21 sit-ups didn't seem too bad. And that's where the "easy" part ended. 

Do you know how many times I had to swing 53 pounds over my head?!?! 84! Eighty-four times! That doesn't even count the warm-up swings or the half swings I had to do to get enough momentum going. 

And, in case you haven't been able to add the mileage up yet, I have, so I'll tell you. It was 1.75 miles - I think that may be the most running I've ever done in a single CF workout!

By the time I finished the second round, all I could think was that I had five more rounds to go. Still, I managed to push through and finished in just over twenty-four minutes. As I was gasping for breath and willing my legs to become less like cooked noodles and more like....legs I said to JDP, "you have a funny idea about what's easy."

"You made it look easy," he said, "you should use that kettle bell weight all the time!" 

JDP is lucky that my death stare doesn't actually render it's recipient dead. 

I should have known better. I've been coming to CrossFit for almost six months now, and 0% of the workouts have been easy. That's a pretty low percentage and yet, I still cling to hope every morning. 

Silly girl, Shannon, silly girl.

I think that's just shy of a coma

Despite having a more flexible schedule these days, I still get up for the 5:30 am CrossFit class. 

(Don't worry. I sense my own craziness, which is a good sign that I have only MOSTLY gone off the deep end.)

Of course other than being crazy, I also have a desire to maintain at least the semblance of a routine, and I also receive a daily threat of having a shoe thrown at my head by my CF buddy, Heather, should I switch classes. 

I don't know about you, but I don't want a shoe thrown at my head.

With my current schedule, I haven't had the sense of urgency to get to bed each night. Before the lay off, I used to get to bed at about 9 P.M. each night. I realize this puts me in the category usually reserved for the elderly and children under the age of ten, but a girl has to get her beauty sleep! 

Now, even though I'm not (nor have I ever been) much of a napper, there is a sense of freedom in my schedule. A sense that I could take a nap should I need one. So now I read a bit longer, talk on the phone longer, check my email longer, or watch TV longer without the "I-must-get-to-sleep-NOW" feeling I had before. 

I didn't think this was a problem. But this weekend I did something that I haven't done in a LONG time. From Saturday night to Sunday morning, I slept for over thirteen hours. 

THIRTEEN. HOURS. 

This was shocking to me. I didn't realize I was that tired. I didn't know my body was capable of sleeping past six am, let alone for a Baker's Dozen's worth of hours. In my groggy wake-up state, I did time math for about fifteen minutes to confirm that I had achieved what I thought was, for me, impossible. 

This was my body's very polite way of saying to me, "Shannon, you've been through a lot and need to get more sleep." 

OK. I hear you, me. More sleep. Got it. 

Attitude is EVERYTHING

If Self-Pity were a train, I have been hanging out at the station. If it were a concert, I have been listening to it's opening acts. If it were a sporting event, I have been tailgating out front. If it were a main course, I have been dining on the appetizer. If it were a guy, I've given it my number and we've been text messaging. 

I have been one step away from throwing myself the biggest pity party you've ever seen. I've been close. So close. I have the decorations and everything. There is a banner sitting in my living room right now that says "Congratulations, Shannon! Your Life Sucks Right Now!" (It's a long banner).

When I let myself, I can think of a lot of reasons to fall down the self-indulgent, slippery slope of self-pity. It's not that hard. Anyone can do it, really. You can do it too, if you let yourself.

This morning, though, I stepped away from the station. I left the concert, skipped the game, declined the main course, and blocked the guy's number. What brought about the sudden about face? I heard a news clip of Michael J. Fox talking about being a positive, optimistic person. 

That's it. A fifteen second sound bite from Michael J. Fox. Not the most Earth shattering event, I know. But, after I bounced the sound clip through my brain for a second or two, I thought, "You know, Michael J. Fox? You are right." 

He has a completely legitimate reason to ride the self-pity train. He has a disease that totally threw him off his life track and continues to progress and get worse every day. But, as he explained in the clip, he didn't choose the disease and he can't control it. He can, however, control how if affects him. He can control the activities he chooses to do each day, the people he surrounds himself with, whether to be happy or sad, whether to enjoy the moment or wallow in it. 

It made me feel silly. My problems, though seemingly big at this point in my life, are temporary. I have been making all of the wrong choices. Choices to be sad, to be upset, to focus on the negative. Well, now that I think about it, those were really crappy choices.

I've been so focused on things that aren't going perfectly right now that I've forgotten a few things. I am healthy, for example. That's good. (check). I have a great family that is endlessly supportive (check). I have wonderful friends who give me a kick in the rear when I need it (check). Thanks to CrossFit, I am well on my way to being in the best shape of my life (check). I have a kick-ass pair of purple high heels that just arrived (check). The guy at Jiffy Lube gave me my tire rotation for free (check). 

See? Things aren't so bad! I just need to keep keeping on and not let myself be negative. Pity City may be the easier destination to get to, but it's so much harder to leave.

Now, I know what you are thinking: "But Shannon! You spent all that time making your pity party banner for nothing!!"

Well, Negative Nancy's, to you I say "Au Contraire!" It wasn't for nothing. I have a very appropriate, necessary and immediate use for it. I needed a new liner for the kitty litter box.