I've been workin' on my fitness

I've never been athletic in the slightest bit. My parents signed me up for peewee soccer when I was young to make me more social. I was so bad, they made up a position just for me- I had to make sure the ball from the other game going on didn't cross over to our game. After my mom saw me take a ball to the face, she let me quit. I did ok in swim lessons in that I never had to be resuscitated and I was pretty far behind the rest of my ice skating class- the instructor had me just skate around by myself without holding on to the wall. I was always slower and more uncoordinated. And that was ok with me. Between gym class bullies and my own neuroses and self confidence issues, I was able to find other outlets like reading and theatre. Unfortunately, lack of movement + poor diet= not good.

So after years of half assed attempts at places like Curves and Bally's, crash diets that lasted about 2 weeks, thinking "I went to the gym today, so I deserve a treat!" and basically just putting myself last, I decided to make some permanent changes. I wanted something extreme- like krav maga or jiu jitsu. This was also around the same time I discovered old school MMA fights on dvd. So it was pretty cool when this girl at work was talking about a kickboxing class that was a great workout and about 5 minutes from where I work! I was so excited about getting to kick some ass. But when I showed up, there was no punching. I didn't get to learn upper cuts or roundhouse kicks- not even with a punching bag. I put on a pair of boxing gloves that smelled bad and did your average aerobics class. Super let down. I asked the owner if there were any other classes I could do and he said, "There's some kind of strength training class that meets in the basement. The first class is free if you want to check it out." I read about how strength training is a vital part of any fitness routine, so I figured I'd check it out.

I showed up and the guy in charge that day looked at me pretty nervously. I said I was there for the strength training class and he then he looked a little annoyed. He corrected that this was something called "Crossfit" in a superior way. He was friendly, though. He explained the warmup to me (which was more of a workout than anything I'd done in years) and then I did a super scaled down version of the workout of the day (WOD.) It was the hardest thing ever. There were weights and pullups and pushups. I couldn't even squat all the way down. They told me to make sure to walk around the next day because I will be sore. And I was sore. I couldn't even get out of my bed until 2pm the next day. I knew I had to walk, so I went to the mall near me so I could move around while stayin indoors. I did some sort of granny shuffle because that's all my legs could handle. My boyfriend at the time thought I was going to give up because of all the pain I was in. But I was resolved. I did the wod. And, even though it was scaled down so much compared to the others, I didn't feel like I sucked. In fact, I felt that bad ass feeling I wanted so much.

I researched the Crossfit thing and found a lot of info. It promoted elite fitness- it sounded very technical and used phrases like "modal domains" but the idea was to promote a more general idea of fitness. It points out that people who focus so much on marathons aren't really fit because they're not necessarily strong. And weightlifters aren't neccessarily fit because they can't run. It promotes functionality over vanity- how often in real life do you take a heavy object from your side to your shoulder, just to put it down? What they were saying made sense in a way, but I don't think I really got the point just yet. All I could pick up on were that there are a lot of different workout combinations and they were all named after women or men that died while serving. One particular WOD, "Fran," seemed to strike fear into the biggest guy while only lasting about 5 minutes, while others, like "Murph," seemed to be big mental challenges as well as physical.

Once I could actually move my legs, I went back again. And again. And it became a habit. The soreness lessened each morning after, but I could still feel it. I still couldn't do a single movement quite the right way like everyone else, but never once was I discouraged. I used weights in the form of barbells with bumpers or dumbells or kettlebells. There are no elliptical machines or spin classes here. The only digital age equipment were a rower and the stopwatch. When we ran it was in the parking lot around the shopping center past the dumpster for a chinese restaurant and a dirty mattress. I felt like a misfit. It was kind of gross and makeshift and the ceiling was so low that we couldn't really jump rope or do a lot of overhead lifting and it was a little more expensive than the Bally's, but I didn't care. This was the most awesome thing ever. And I was improving quicker than I could've imagined. I started getting lower on my squats, could start doing pullups (with a band) and I could add more weight to my barbell. I could do cleans and push jerks. My body comp was changing and I was dropping clothes sizes faster than I can afford. My boyfriend hated it. It took time away from him, and I think he felt threatened that other guys started noticing me. It might have been the seed that started forcing me to choose myself over him. I really don't regret that choice, though, despite all the ranting about lonliness in my previous post.

Today that little gym has grown. Last year we moved out of the basement and into a storage facility that's about 3 times bigger and now even that's getting crowded. Classes have gone from 3 people to 13. And I've gotten better, too. My diet's changed (that might be a separate post), I'm a ton stronger and faster. I can move 120lbs from the floor to over my head. I can get almost 300 off the ground. I'm able to run longer and faster. I can do some WODs as they're "prescribed." There are still a lot of things I can't do fully yet- I still use a band for pullups and I can't do a handstand on my own, but even that stuff is getting better. And while I'm still not seeing the vanity perks of this, the fact that I'm proving 29 years of negative thinking wrong is something to hold onto.

I quit this bitch.

It's been brought to my attention that people are more likely to read your blog if you write stuff. Sorry, dudes. I tried to do a post about kittens on youtube, but it won't let me post videos.




I've been trying to write something on here that doesn't make me sound like a Smiths song, but to be honest, my life has been about 98% suck lately. Don't get me wrong, there have been some highlights- an awesome weekend in Chestertown was able to work its magic for a while, and kick ass cupcakes were cool. And work isn't unbearably awful or anything. But something needs to change. Like, now before I lose my shit.

First of all, I'm learning that I suck at being alone and this is really surprising to me. I always loved my alone time. I wasn't the most social growing up and every roomate I've ever had has gotten on my nerves. I love not having to deal with all the roomate problems and I wouldn't go back to that, but this is hard. I've also never had a problem going out alone or eating in the dining hall by myself, but going to one of the 3 bars right across the street from me on my own is now a paralyzing fear. I've tried a few book club type groups, and the CrossFit gang is always there, but nothing's getting rid of the lonlies.

Speaking of CrossFit, I've been kicking some ass in the workout department. One of my aweosme trainers has been helping me with correcting my diet and I've been doing a good job with it- it's becoming habit. And while I increased strength, can run longer and faster, and can do more pullups and pushups, I haven't lost a damn pound. This is not a plateau. This is not halfassed whining that this is hard. I've been working my ass off. I'm not doing anything wrong, no inordinant amount of cheating and trying to make up for it later. It's all been legit. And nothing's happening. I've been ok and trying to keep positive because my workouts were awesome until last night. Last night was terrible. I had to go down in weight, my form was terrible, some guy that's only been there a week was running circles around me and I had the slowest time. I made an appointment to have my thyroid looked at, but doctors never listen to me, so I don't have the greatest hopes of that playing out well.

Don't even get me started on dating. I had to tap out of that game for a bit.

It may seem like petty things, but they're big for me. I'm really making an effort to turn myself around nothing is budging for me. I've done all the hard things- I got out of a toxic relationship, I put myself out there for help with the things I can't figure out on my own, I made decisions that were for the best and not because they were easy or just simply what I wanted. I laugh off all the small things like falling down in a puddle of mud an hour before a meeting and having to go around with the most godawful hickey on my neck that I got before I was told that I'm "too nice." And I think I've done it all with finesse. I've been good- more than good. I've been downing shit sandwiches like it's my part time job and with little complaint up until now. When are things gonna go my fucking way!?

Is it too soon to bring out the soap box?

I love that my friends post articles on facebook. It gives a good insight as to what's a priority to them, their thought processes, and what's considered entertainment for them.This one comes courtesy of my friend, Jessie. If you don't have the time, it references a Self Magazine cover on which Kelly Clarkson is airbrushed to within an inch of her life and the horrifying blog post from the editor in response to it ("Did we alter her appearance? Only to make her look her personal best" is a direct quote.)

Now, I don't want to go down a common road and use this post to whine about how unfair it all is and how Marilyn Monroe was a size 14 and all that. So I'm not going to rail against Anna Wintour, Karl Lagerfeld, Hollywood Producers and Keira Knightley for continuing to make "normal" girls feel like crap. What I want to do ask why this happens. It seems to me that the issue is much deeper than this.

A few years ago I was shopping for a dress online. The site boasted "real clothes for real women" while having your size 0 women model them. I wrote an angry and kind of snarky letter in the Contact Us section, not really expecting anything but feeling I did my part.

I did get a response. It was polite and regretful and full of marketing jargon and pie charts. Basically, it said that they used to have actual plus sized women model (usually a size 14, just under what's termed "plus" but more real than a 0), but when they switched to smaller model types, their sales went up 40%. Even the target demographic for "real clothes for real women" responded better to a size 0 than a size 14. We can't pin that on the fashion industry or advertising execs. The magazine tried to adhere to our ideals, but we neglected them for it.

We don't want to look at a pair of jeans and see an accurate depiction of how we would look in them. We want to look at what we want to be. As angry as that magazine cover makes me, how much better or worse would Self Magazine sell if a cute Kelly Clarkson was on the cover without being airbrushed down 3 sizes? My guess is it wouldn't sell as much. I'm sorry, but I really can't blame a magazine for doing this if they'd all fail for listening to our idealistic rants and campaigns for real beauty. Isn't it misplacing blame or deflecting a much deeper problem? What is the deeper problem? Is it something chemical in us? Genetic makeup? Do we blame our mothers? The history of oppression against women?

We want to be supportive of the "normal" woman and embrace our curves, freckles, height challenges, and any imperfections as a generalization; but we're scared shitless of ourselves. I'll celebrate you being less than perfect, but I settle for nothing less in myself. Why is that? Am I wrong?

Since deciding to switch to a more healthy lifestyle a little over 18 months ago, I've been noticing this other side to body issues more and more. I get asked why I'm making that sudden change. I tell them about how I felt out of control, weak willed, and scared to death of all the diseases that come with being overweight. These are my motivations. Most would still assume it's to get a man or to get myself in prime baby making condition. But I was already in a committed relationship when I started. And while I don't want to be dangerously unhealthy, I honestly have no desire to lose my boobs or hips or to be a size 8. Regardless of my size I will love my curly hair and I love having full lips. I will always be a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. Of course I have a ton of insecurities- my glasses, my pores, my stomach to name a few. But it's not magazine covers that make me feel down on myself for them, it's other women and, ultimately, myself. Why do we do this to ourselves and each other? Or am I off base? Let me know what you think.

I have a blog! Now what?

Hello.

I've been thinking (probably too much) about what to write on here. I've been staring at the dashboard for 3 days expecting ideas to jump out. I've thought about coming at it from a certain angle, but couldn't decide what. My journey in diet and Crossfit? Cooking blog? My cats? popculture and politics? Music? Most of the feedback I received about angles is that "angles are bullshit."

But I feel the need for structure because it feels safer. I'm selective with my risks. I'll gladly stumble and make an ass of myself for the sake of humor. I'll stand on stage and act or recite. I'll even sing. Slowly, but surely, I've become more confident of my physical abilities through Crossfit while acheiving a ton more confidence in the whole body image area despite not being a size 8. I'm an adventurous eater. I'll try pretty much anything once. But writing is something I've never taken a risk with. I was going to take a creative writing class in college, but I chickened out after I stumbled on a few of the "literary elite" making fun of the creative assignments some students left in a professor's mailbox. I had a blog a few years ago, but that consisted mostly of lists and surveys. It quickly fell to the wayside. I never really wrote anything that anyone other than a teacher saw.

It's a confidence thing. I want to be a talented writer so much, but don't feel I am. I feel like I fool everyone by letting them think I'm smarter and wittier than I actually am. It's silly, really. And it's not like I think I'm an idiot or even that my lack of confidence in this is uncommon. I just need to get over it.

This blog will put an end to that. I'll get past the fact that this post is more self deprecating than funny, I won't pigeon hole myself into themes and I won't get too too wrapped up in the fact or idea that my structure isn't the tightest or most solid. I hope.