Hands

When I was younger there were a lot of things about myself I would have changed.

I could go on a rant for days about my arm hair or my knees or my large Italian nose.

But the top of that list was my hands.



They were large and what I considered fat. I saw a thousand flaws and was so envious of those people with "piano player" hands. With dainty fingers that rings looked lovely on; or even fit. I tried to keep my nails long and pretty. Anything to make them seem more "feminine".

Or, at least, what I thought feminine should be.

Body image is a HARD THING.

It's so much more than just a skinny vs fat issue.


Well time has passed. I'm a different person. I love my nose.

The arm hair thing? Mostly in my head.

My hands?

I'm not going to pick up the piano any time soon but they are strong. They do what I need them to do when I need them to do it. Weights and punching and a dozen other things I torture them with and they never complain. They don't fail me.

They are covered in scars and callouses and yesterday, they were literally bleeding.

What they didn't do though, was fail me.

So who cares that they aren't going to be used in a ring commercial anytime soon. Who cares that They occasionally get referred to as "Man Hands".

The measure but which I find them beautiful is not the same as it used to be and I LOVE THEM.

I might be dead.

How long would I be dead before someone noticed?

Late last night I heard one of my kids call "Mom!".

So I yelled back "What?"  and waited.

And waited. 

And waited.

When nothing else happened I got out of bed. 

OH WAIT.

Did I forget to mention I was all snuggled in my bed getting closer and closer to dreamland? Because that is where I was after I told my children of my intentions to enter dreamland. Not that they ever pay attention to me but I sometimes like to scream into the void just to hear the sound of my own voice. 

So out of bed I go. 

Up the stairs. 

Into the lair that belongs to my teenage child. 

The door is, of course, locked despite my requests to not do that. 

So I bang on the door and the teenage zombie leaves his game for a moment to answer it.

Son- "What?"

Me- "You called me."

Son- "Oh yeah I thought I heard a gunshot."

Me- "And you didn't think to check on me? Save your sister? Escape to safety? Am I currently bleeding out while some thief robs us?"

Son-"You answered me."

Oh, that's right. I said 'what'. All the confirmation my kid needed after hearing what he thought was a GUNSHOT.

I heard no such thing. Again I was trying to enter dreamland but still his response to my attempted murder is not very comforting. 

So the question is how long would I be dead before someone noticed?

Motivation

I see a lot of posts about how people find motivation. Questions about how to start a new fitness routine or a healthier diet.

Most of the posts talk about how motivation is crap.

I agree. Sure you wake up on day one all jazzed and motivated to start a new path. You're ready. You lay everything out the night before. You have a plan.

Day two is probably more of the same. You're going to crush the day.

Maybe that lasts a week. Maybe two. But there will come a day when the alarms goes off and you think "one day of resting is fine.".

You can't count on being motivated all the time. You need discipline.

At least that is what people much smarter than me say.

I'm not going to tell you how to get motivated because I have no idea.

I only know what I do and it mostly involves name calling. By which I mean I call myself names when I think about skipping my workout.  Not nice names. Names not fit for polite company.

So this post isn't about that either.

This post is about how your mindset changes over time. Sometimes without you even knowing it.

Today's workout was rough. Like "dear god why?" rough.

20 minute AMRAP (as many rounds as possible)

7 power cleans #85
7 burpees
200 m run 

Does that sound horrible?

It should. You should see that and think "does no one love me?"

That is for sure what I thought.

I hate this kind of workout. The 20 minutes is a long time to work hard. Not to mention there was running and burpees. Two things I hate the most. Seriously I hate them. So So Very Much!!!

Here's where the mindset part comes in though.

I used to hate these workout because I was convinced I couldn't finish. Worse was the running commentary that would go through my head. Is now the time to quit? What about now? Surely the next round would be enough? everything hurts and I want to cry I can stop now right?

More often than not I would struggle till the end but it would be a constant battle in my head convincing myself I could go just one more minute.

Today though, I realized I hate this workout for a whole new reason.

I no longer think I can't finish it. I know I can finish it. I know I can make it to the end without quitting. I hate it now because I know it's going to suck every step of the way. 20 full minutes of misery. No break. No rest. Just 20 horrible minutes.

Realizing stuff like this makes me happy.

Sure motivation is crap and discipline is the key to any change but there are so many little milestones that mark your journey you just have to be aware enough to recognize them.

Sick AF

Last Wednesday night I was folding laundry in preparation for Triple S's return home. Because I certainly don't wait until the last minute to make it look like I keep a perfect house the whole time he is gone because obviously, that is ridiculous.

So as I was standing there folding my husband's 300 t-shirts when I suddenly started feeling like the floor of a taxi cab. Normally I push through. It's kind of my thing.

It's my one defining trait.

I'm tough.

I suck it up.

I have so many foolish stories about how I pushed through.

Did you know I didn't miss a single day of work when I had a metal plate put in my wrist?

Did you know I waxed my floor while I was unknowingly bleeding internally?

I have a hundred of these stories. All part of the "legend" that is me.

I can be stubborn and foolishly pig-headed when it comes to resting or taking it easy.

Of course, quitting the laundry doesn't count so I went to bed. Assuming that when I woke up the next day I would be feeling better.

That didn't happen of course. As I struggled with getting the kids ready I started to suspect I might have a small problem. It only got worse at airport pick up when I actually got out of the car and let Scott drive home. It was then that I promptly climbed back into bed.

That was five days ago.

I missed deadlift day, my BJJ belt promotion, a girls night out, a FREAKING competition, dinner with my awesome Lyft friends, boxing training, both my jobs, open workout 18.1 ARG. I'm getting annoyed typing this list.

With every missed event I argued in my head till the last minute that I could still make it. That I was just being a baby, that if I could just get moving I would be fine.

That didn't happen.

Nothing happened but a lot of sleeping and mass consumption of cold medicine.

So go screw FLU! How dare you show me that I'm human?

Sorry in advance to everyone who is going to have to put up with me in the coming weeks as I try and prove my invincibility to myself again. I feel a lot of bad decisions coming up.

Who's along for the ride?

The End of Summer: a Tale of Blood, Sweat, and Tears

I've spent the summer doing stupid things.

Things to test myself.

(like another NewBreed tournament)

Things to prove I'm not growing old.

Things to see just how good my insurance is.

(like an almost broken finger)

But before the Summer can end I wanted to add one more thing to the list.


I tried to exercise better than anyone else. 


I know that's a weird statement but I'm not sure there is a better way to describe Crossfit.

Yes, I said the dreaded C word.

I know Crossfit is like a lightning rod for people who want to be fit. Everyone seems to either know someone who got super jacked or super jacked up.

I have drunk the kool-aid though. I'm in 100% mostly because my coach is awesome.

You might be thinking that's my opinion but you are wrong. It's FACT.

Seriously, Check this guy out.

Just kidding.


Although that is him that picture is deceptive. I mean he only leaned back for like 30 seconds but I'm quick with the camera.

Whatever. That isn't the point.

Somehow this unassuming bearded gentleman tricked me into CrossFit. I just wanted to "lift some weights".


Thanks to him this past weekend I got 2nd best exerciser. **

** aged 40-44, scaled.

If you want to see me in action you can click on the links below. It's painful to watch. I mean even I want to scream at myself to go faster even though I know at the time I was thinking about murdering people. Or passing out. Or a combination of the two. I certainly wasn't thinking about writing this post to thank the sleepy guy in the picture above.

box jump burpees and high knees

400m row, 21 kettlebell snatches, and 12 ring rows

* note to self. Maybe less bending over when you are being videotaped.

It isn't just him though. It's the people who cheer each other on. Who tell you how awesome you are when you feel like you're failing. It's the people who laugh when you slip in your own sweat. It's the people who curse the work out of the day (WOD) with you because double unders are the worst except for maybe thrusters. Those are also horrible.

These people never have egos. Seriously, and some of them should, they are so badass.

Travel Musings

Have you ever seen these signs?

How is this still a thing?

Does anyone really think that there is an aircraft circling the highway using some form of long distance radar gun to track your speed?

I'm not sure what the cost of jet fuel is these days but I would imagine you would have to issue a lot of tickets to pay for an hour of airtime. Flight time? Flying time? Obviously, I am not a pilot.

Maybe we should check the state budget more carefully next time it comes up for a vote?

School is about to Start!

Even if you don't have small children don't pretend like you didn't know because every form of social media has been filled with all things back to school. Parodies about dancing parents, memes about sad kindergarten parents, jokes about making lunches, horror stories about dress codes and so very much more.

Now if you try and tell me you don't follow social media let me stop you there.

That is the new "I don't watch TV" 

Go screw! 

We know you are better than us with all your encyclopedias and the like but whatever! We like gifs showing cats falling in water and freaking out. 

Besides, that isn't a valid argument because every store every where has been advertising it. So unless you are going to tell me you are a home bound agoraphobe, with no internet access, I call LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE!

Whatever.

None of your lies matter. What does matter is that for the people in this house, (and for the purposes of this blog the most important people) school is starting back up. 

School supplies have been ordered. Normally a nightmare that I pawn off on the husband. Not this year though. I braved the stores, the lines, the crowds, the complaining, the fits over folders not coming in blue and took care of everything.

At least that is the story I'm telling everyone. The truth is it took 3 minutes.

Yup. That isn't even an exaggeration. 

Both the kid's schools uploaded their school lists to the local Target and all I had to do was find them on the website. 

Three minutes. 

Less than 200 seconds.

Less time than it takes to tie shoes.

Seriously!! I was so giddy I didn't even know what to do with myself.

SHHHHHHHHHH

So yeah it was super easy thanks to the fact that everything is linked in cyberspace and sure every time the internet makes something easier it means some tiny piece of my private life is now available for strangers but who cares?

School shopping is done. Now I just need to enforce a regular bedtime. Preferably at least a few days before school actually starts.

Let's be honest though. THAT AIN'T HAPPENING.