fitness and nutrition, hustle

I Felt the Drop…

It was crushing to say the least when I saw the 20.2 CrossFit Open workout. I felt the drop in the pit of my stomach immediately. If that wasn’t enough, I felt the drop again after my first attempt.

Double unders and toes-to-bars were listed as two of the three movements in 20.2. Both are hated movements by me and I got them both in one workout. How will I ever move past the mental mountain I created for myself?

It started with my normal Friday workout attempt accompanied by hundreds of failures. Not joking!

It took 20 seconds to complete 4 35-pound dumbbell thrusters and then I had 19 minutes plus to keep going. I only needed to get 6 toes to bar to move on. Well I got one toe, one shoe lace, and many feet above the bar but I couldn’t actually get my toes, shoes or any part thereof to hit the bar in unison to count a single rep per the Open standards. Talk about defeat. My hands hurt. My shoulder were fatigued. My lats were achy.

I was a bit ornery for a few hours after. To take my mind off of my poor performance, I watched some videos on strategies. I did some stretches. I thought about if I would try a second attempt. And luckily I had a Jell-O shot with friends that day so my mind maybe forgot about by failures briefly.

I had a weekend away from technology and the gym so I was able to recover and reset my mind. Fast forward to Monday. A redo is a thought but not a definite yes. Let’s see how my body feels in the morning. Met my buddy David at the box and he was going to do the workout again so I decided to give it a go along side him hoping to springboard off his momentum.

It worked. I got my six toes to bar one by one. They weren’t pretty and they were not strung together. Rather it took me 12 minutes to get them. What that meant was I got to proceed to the next movement which was double unders. Which guess what? I couldn’t do those either. Sigh.

Lord help me! I practiced some calming methods that I read about on the internet. I found a focal point and jumped in what seemed like slow motion. It somehow worked.

Lo and behold, I got one double under. Then 2 in a row. Three in a row. Back to one. Up again to 2. Somehow I made it to 24 and that was a personal best. Something to celebrate. I had many whip marks to go along with all the added attempts but who doesn’t appreciate battle scars?

Round 1 was complete. I chipped away at my mental mountain. I completed four more dumbbell reps which were easy for me. Then back it was to toes-to-bar. Can I get a few more?

My minutes were dwindling but every rep counts. I completed 5 more toes to bar. 43 total reps which isn’t a lot but but it was a lot to me. Another RX WOD for this girl.

I felt I was setup to fail by Mr. Castro. I didn’t let failure stand in my way. I fought back with pure devotion, strength and tenacity. I conquered my battle and set my personal bests.

This is what the Open is for me each year. It’s is a way to show my strengths, my weaknesses and my depth as an athlete. My ego hurt a bit this week. My ranking dropped significantly but I still have three more weeks of workouts to battle my way back up in the ranks.

I hope this story shares a level of me with you that some may never see. Some may choose not to see. But for me it showcases the lows and highs. Life is full of ups and downs just like sports. These examples or experiences are part of who I am. Nobody is perfect. What one shares online is optional. You can choose your filter. This story is raw and real. It’s authentic.

This is my Open book. My CrossFit Open story book. Year after year I write and I document my progress, my emotions, my highs, my lows, and my motivation.

One day somebody will be inspired by what they read. Until then, I will keep writing and working hard. I am in the Open. I am 47 and somewhat fit. I enjoy my Open challenges with friends in my gym community. Come on in and see what the fun is all about. You can find a CrossFit box in your area.

#intheopen
#crossfitmom
#fitisthenewfab
#hwpo
#kt247
#1095days

family

Words to my Mother

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I wrote a Mother’s Day poem for my Mom 27 years ago.  Just weeks before graduating from high school.  All the fighting and sneaking around and lying I had done.  All the awards and trophies and certificates, too.  So many things we had endured, loosely but inevitably connected.

I had chosen to go to college in Ohio, so I was facing being away from her for the first time.  I guess this poem, my gift to her, was my way of showing her that I had begun to understand what she had done for me.  What she had given up for me.  Our bond, which would now be stretched across state lines.

I remember crying as I wrote it, one line in particular.  I remember carefully writing the title in crayon, and smudging it with stuff to bring to mind the kindergarten creations of so many Mother’s Days past.

I laid it on her bed, always neatly made first thing in the morning.  On her paisley pillow, not far from her Pall Mall golds, her ashtray and lighter, the plastic tray filled with her earrings.  There was no fanfare.  I just left it there.

I don’t remember her reaction to the poem.  I’m sure she said thank you, but that may have been it.  With all the flurry of activity around my graduation, I’m sure it just got lost in the shuffle.

Nearly a dozen Mother’s Days came and went before my Mother passed away. At that time, I was pregnant with my first natural-born child and a new Mom to two toddlers. I was exhausted and overwhelmed trying to clean out my parents’ 25-year-old home.

I was sifting through the basket of papers she kept right next to her bed.  Underneath a few People magazines I found file folders with birth certificates, legal papers, these were important things…

then I saw the mauve paper peeking out.  And I knew just what it was. My poem.  Just next to some of the most important things in her life.  My poem.

My mother was not the type to gush.  I clearly got my sentimentality from my Dad.  But seeing my poem in with all her most important papers was all I needed to know.

I nearly lost that paper a couple of times, but eventually I had it framed and it still hangs next to my bed, just like where my mother kept it.  Some of it makes me chuckle now, the overinflated ideas and revelations of a too-big-thinking teenager.  But a lot of it still holds true.  I’ve shared a few lines from that poem below.

Hope you all are celebrating Mother’s Day in whatever way honors the women in your life the best.  Take some time to write words to a woman who has meant something to you.  Our words and our time are some of the most precious treasures we can share.

 

mother

I am born of you

out of a painful love that has

already outlasted my lifetime.

You surround me with your

words and your listening silence

and your arms…

 

mother

we are different stages of the same woman

who learn from each other like learning

from a separate self…

and that is why I say I am always with you – because

I am you

and happy to be, lucky to be

thankful to be

 

mother

what is to be is something we don’t know but I can see that it will involve distance

and I wonder how I will make it –

but I know your love can cover the whole world in its maternal infinity

and your wide arms will tuck me in each night even long after I am gone.

 

mother, (mom)

I would not have this future without the past you’ve so unselfishly given and given.

Thank you for my life. I love you.

-Beth

Mother’s Day, 1992

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