Hurray?

My quest to lose weight and lose fat has been an impossible one. Prior to joining CrossFit, I had tried dieting, marathon 2+ hour workout efforts, personal training and to reward my efforts I got.....nothing. 

This has always been odd to me, especially since I've always been careful about diet and have always worked out. Where did the extra weight come from anyway? I swear that one day I went to bed and *poof* the next day I had gained weight. 

To say that my last two years of weight loss efforts have been frustrating is an understatement. To say that they have been rip-your hair out, throw the scale against the wall, ready to just throw your hands in the air and let the fat percentage build up as your body sees fit, is a bit more accurate.

About a year and a half ago, I went to a doctor who told me that clearly the answer was that I am a depressed individual and that the seeming weight gain was in my head. 

REALLY? Soooo, the fact that my old clothes don't fit doesn't mean anything, then? Is that in my head too?

I told him that perhaps I was upset about the fact that I was spending more time in the gym than at my apartment and that I had become so masterful at counting calories that guessing the calories in everyone's food could be my new career should I ever want to join the carnival circuit, but I wouldn't call myself clinically depressed.

The next doctor I went to told me that I "looked great" and shouldn't want to lose anymore weight. Had I been anorexic and a walking skeleton, I may have heeded that advice. But since I was not, nor have I ever been, underweight, this advice was once again, supremely unhelpful. Why weren't the doctor's listening to me when I told them that something wasn't right?

So I joined CrossFit and became a master of the Zone diet with the food logs to prove it. Initially with the I Am CrossFit challenge, I got token results, but when the Spartan challenge started, I realized that those results were just that; token. 

My frustration level at this point was at an all time high. I couldn't improve my diet anymore, I had already cut out processed carbs, sugar and dairy. I couldn't work out any more than six-seven days/week I was already working out. I was ready to quit.

Then my mom implored me to go to her Endocrinologist. I figured I had nothing to lose, so I drove the hour and a half to see her doctor. One Doctor's visit, one blood test and five waiting days later I found out that I am hypothyroid. 

Sounds fancy and important, doesn't it?

Here are the common symptoms of hypothyroidism:

• Fatigue
• Weakness
• Weight gain or increased difficulty losing weight
• Coarse, dry hair
• Dry, rough pale skin
• Hair loss
• Cold intolerance (can't tolerate the cold like those around you)
• Muscle cramps and frequent muscle aches
• Constipation
• Depression
• Irritability
• Memory loss
• Abnormal menstrual cycles

How could the other doctor's have missed this? I was experiencing just about all of the symptoms to some degree AND I have a family history! 

Initially I was so happy and excited to find out that I wasn't crazy and that I did have something else going on (Hurray!). Then I realized that it meant I had to take a pill every day for the rest of my life (boo!), but that was immediately followed by the realization that I already take Advocare everyday, what's one more teensy-tinsy little pill? (hurray!)

So, fingers crossed that this is the solution. I know that it doesn't make weight loss easy, and heaven knows that CrossFit won't be any easier, but maybe it will allow me to get the results that I want! 

Ouch

Ouch! Ouchy, ouch, ouch, ouch! 

My entire body hurts. CF did it again!

It's OK, though. As long as I don't move or think about moving, I'm fine. 

Oh! The Humidity!

I think I'm in for a rough CF summer: Texas humidity is here. 

I started CF in the fall when you had to worry about wearing sweatshirts not completely sweating through your T-shirt, so doing the all outdoor all the time CrossFit workouts hasn't really been too much of an issue.

But these past couple of days have been like breathing into a giant bowl of split pea soup. The air is thick and my lungs DO NOT like it. "No thank you," they say, "we reject this thick version of oxygen you are trying to pump into us. We'd like some normal air, please." 

There is no reprieve from it, though! It is like a thick blanket that drapes over the world. I haven't really swum at all since I finished my swimming "career" in college, but I am beginning to think that maybe there will be some swimming in my future; I mean, the air is so heavy with moisture that we may have to be swimming our 400 meter runs.

And don't even get me started on how much it makes you sweat. I may as well jump into a pool fully clothed. At least I would feel a bit cooled off. But instead I get coated in sticky, blechy, sweat that seems to weigh down my clothing more than it cools me off.

If anyone knows of a magic humidity relief potion, please let me know!

Confessions

I don't like talking about my flaws and insecurities. To me, those are my burdens to bare and I tend to keep them as my little secrets. Everyone has their own issues to deal with, why bother them with mine?

I actually think (read: know) that is why I am such a sarcastic idiot - it's easier to be sarcastic about something and brush it off than it is to be real and let people in on the innermost workings of my brain. Maybe it's the athlete in me, or maybe I was traumatized as a child, or maybe in a former life I was a gabber and now I am destined to a lifetime of keeping things to myself (which would explain why I am such a super secret keeper. For real. I am like Fort Knox with a secret). I think it's probably the latter.

My biggest insecurity is definitely body image. I have a HORRIBLE body image. The only good thing about that is it is what led me to CrossFit, but unfortunately even after six months of CF, and four months of paleo-zoning and micro-measuring all of my food, my image hasn't improved. I keep waiting for the stars to align and inches to drop off of my body, but so far all of my clothes fit the same or even worse (mostly from muscle gain) and I never see a positive difference in the mirror. 

Months of no results has been niggling at my brain and my insecurities have lavished in it. To try to maximize my results, I discussed eating less with my coaches. Done. I did that for about six weeks and still....nothing.

And then about three weeks ago, I started falling into a horrible, horrible spiral of bad habits. I figured, if ten blocks were good, nine blocks were better. I'd already cut out all refined carbs (bread, pasta, etc.) so I cut out fruit - I figured that those are higher in sugar, so they would be better to drop, right? 

Early last week I plugged a typical day into a calorie calculator (another habit I personally shouldn't do because it just leads me into a downward shame spiral when I do it). I was eating about 1300 calories/day. I am almost six feet tall and am very active. I knew that wasn't enough, but I let myself believe that it was. 

I started doing more cardio workouts on my own in the afternoon. Then, to feel more full, I started taking fiber capsules. Heaven forbid I actually eat more! I was already struggling to lose weight!

That was rock bottom. Well, almost rock bottom. I don't want to talk about rock bottom. Let's just say that there was a bottom rock and I was on it. Luckily I smacked my head on that rock and it knocked some sense into me. 

So what did I do? I called up Megan. And we formulated a plan. An "Eat More" plan. Operation Eat More. Megan walks the walk, so I have a lot of faith that she knows what she is talking about. And clearly I need someone to tell me what to do.

But even still, I'm a bit scared. And I hate myself for having insecurities and even more for being stupid. Who would think that with all of the ass kicking, sweat inducing, muscle failing, lactic acid building, heart pounding workouts we do that the hardest thing for me would be....chewing.

"Easy"

Sometimes I think that our coaches speak a different language. However, over the past few months, I have been able to become a professional CF Speak to Normal Person translator. 

For example, this morning the workout was supposed to be 50 x Man Makers. Man Makers are horrible, horrible things that make you wonder why (WHY!?!?) you thought CrossFit was a good idea.

JDP said, "Easy workout, guys, easy workout!" 

Translation: "I hope you want to be a worthless pile of goo the rest of the day, because today's workout is going to SUCK!"

Then, if that wasn't horrible enough, we did 400 meter sprints. Well, 400 meter "sprints" - the 35 Man Makers I managed to finish  in the allotted time frame had rendered my legs to just about useless. 

Lance said we were doing "a couple." In normal terms, that means 2. In CF terms, that can be translated to, "as many as we can do in the time that we have left....or until you drop dead. Whatever comes first, but really we are aiming for death."

Some other common phrases that can be translated:

Short Workout = Not nearly enough time to finish the crazy amount of things written on the white board

Light Weights = We tested the weight with the competitors of the World's Strongest Man Competition, and they had no problem lifting it.

Short Breaks = You've rested more than .0001 seconds. Get back to the workout!

Fun Workout = Zero Fun. 

I think the CF coaches sit around at night thinking of ways to build us up just so they can knock us flat on our butts and say, "Haha! Suckers! You fell for it again!!! Chalk another one up for the coaches!" 

Sadly, I know this, yet keep coming back for more. 

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.