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.

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. 

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.