Tag: progress

fitness and nutrition, hustle

Sore is an Understatement

2chicksandapen

I am so sore after my last competition. My quads and my traps were literally on fire day 1 post-comp. By day 2 the traps moved to achy, but the quads were still flaming hot. As day 3 approached, the thought of working out those sore muscles was insane but a much needed step in the recovery process. At day 4, I was trudging along but at a turtle’s pace in most activities. The pain and recovery phase is nearing completion. Thank goodness.

I competed last week in the Jingle Bells and Barbells CrossFit competition with a bunch of my crazy CrossFit friends. It was an amazing experience like most competitions I do, but this one had had workouts programmed with heavy weights and overall grueling movement combinations to test your mind, body and soul. Yes, the soul. You had to dig deep into your soul to power through some of these workouts.

Up at the wee hours of the morning to make the drive for the early am check-in. First workout starts promptly at 8:30am. 22 minutes of movement with three team members pushing their limits. Each with different strengths and weaknesses. Round one left my legs shaking and my body craving fuel to endure the next round. 4th place out of 22 is where my team sat after round 1.

About 11:00 am round 2 was upon us. A heavy lifting ladder. 90 seconds for three team members to move up in weight on a complex movement (2 deadlifts, 1 squat clean, then 1 shoulder-to-overhead). I tapped out at 125 lbs, another team member 145 lbs and another 155lbs. Despite our strength, we were still in 4th place. There was some tough competition in our bracket.

Round 3 hit around 12:30 pm. A partner relay of sorts with pull-ups, push-ups and dumbbell snatches followed by a max combined number of 85-pound snatches. This was killer but one I was looking forward to. Well not really the relay part but the snatches part as that is a movement I like and am decent at. Over 14 minutes we worked hard as a team. 9 minutes dedicated to snatches. 128 snatches over head for team Katashie. We nailed 1st in this workout by a longshot but our bodies were depleted. This bumped us up to 3rd place overall. We were excited we would make the podium.

And then there was a curve ball. A final workout of sorts to see who really makes the podium. The first four teams in each division have to compete in one more workout that is a secret. An unknown workout when your body is already taxed. No time to prepare. What an awesome plot twist for those who like to compete.

We were nervous. We were in fourth place until the last workout. We didn’t have a big points differential with the team now in fourth place. That means they could take our podium spot. The pressure was on. GHDs, rope climbs and wheel barrows were our movements. 9 minutes is all you got. We were last off the GHDs – LAST – but somehow we picked up time on the rope climbs. We kicked it into high gear to finish 3 laps in a tandem wheelbarrow of people. We squeaked out 2nd place in this workout despite getting a rough start. What a triumph.

We actually made the podium in 2nd place overall out of 22 teams. What an accomplishment. As I say I am sore, I am also prideful. I am beaming with pride for my team who worked hard as a unit over time to reach the podium. I am also thankful for my physical ability to be able to compete amongst others who may be my age or even 20 plus years younger. Thank you to Erica and Tasha for partnering with me at this comp. It was a blast.

Whether I made the podium or not, I put in work. I did more than many others my age on that Saturday. I did the work among friends. I smiled. I laughed. I earned my carbs for that whole weekend, I promise. And to top it off, three of my friends competed for their first time. Congrats to Kim, Taco and Nicole. You killed it.

The added bonus is any time I can say I competed with my oldest son. Last month it was the Marathon. This month it was this competition. A year ago it was Super Team Comp where we shared the same coed team. Having the opportunity to share fitness and lifestyle goals with your kids is amazing. Next duo event for us is a 15k in February. I’m doing it for the swag bag, he is doing it for the run. #goals

One day I may not be able to compete but I will always have this blog to relive the memories as an CrossFit athlete. Competition is good. It lets you see where you can grow and lets you see how you stack up to others who choose to compete as well. Not every time is a success story on the podium, but for me every time I cross the finish line I will celebrate my individual accomplishments.

Until next time, check out some of my comp pics. The first two are courtesy of Davison Wheeler Photography.

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awareness, featured

The trigger. The seize. The aftermath.

2chicksandapen

 

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He was clearly upset. Withdrawn. Facing away from us when they finally arrived after going around and around and around again trying to find us. So much effort and time trying to relax at the beach. Environmental conditions created stress. A lot of stress.

The trigger: stress in his environment. Unknown factors lurking. A racing mind.

Recently he had been doing so well with helping and navigating and being responsible in life and on this trip. I know he is growing up and takes such pride in his adult successes… he’s achieving and as he achieves new challenges come. He is growing up.

Miscommunication leads to frustration adding to elevated stress levels. Triggers in his world. Triggers that can spark negative thoughts and emotions that make his mind race. The peace in his brain turns to excitement or sparks.

After staring into the ocean, silent, for a while, I could see he was trying to manage those feelings. Those sparks that agitate him. He finally just turned over and laid down, head down, on the beach blanket. No sunscreen, no words, no nothing. He was trying to settle him. I know that feeling!

Every few minutes he would pick up his head and pound the sand where his face would lay as hard as he could. I figured he was trying to carve out a resting spot for his ears and cheeks. But he was also still working out that ball in his stomach. He probably popped up three times to pound the sand. I offered him our shovel but he didn’t respond. He was in his own space. His own head space. He was battling his inner demons.

A turbulent mind I would explain to most. Filled with why me? Why now? Why in public? What did I do to deserve this life? At one point he got up and went to put his feet in the water then went right back to sleeping, wrapping a shirt around his head. he just laid there silent and still in the sun. One may think this is no big deal.

I see it. I see the challenge. I see the mental burden. I see the chaos lurking. I see the pending explosion. The seize is here. The seize is happening.

It was the sound that hit me first. It was a guttural scream, a groan, a call. A shout. And then he was jumping, lunging, arms out reaching for the closest object or person of comfort.

5-8 seconds seems like a lifetime in this moment. Passers by freeze. Judgment is silent. An eerie feeling is in the air as those close say nothing.

The girl who was sitting next to me in our low beach chair was the support. I knew what was happening and tried to jump in between them. Told him who I was and where he was. I used his name. It’s ok. It’s me. You’re on the beach. You are safe. Put my hand on his arm to try to calm him. He was still confused. He said his ribs were hurting and grabbed his side. That’s when I got scared since I didn’t know what that meant. I got help.

She was in in the water just feet away. Not out too far. I ran out to her and she was calm. She asked me what happened and just coolly walked back to him. She knew it was coming just didn’t know when.

At least she seemed cool compared to my jumpy insides. She called him over about halfway to him. Come get in the water with me. And he did. He went with her and they walked out together and a minute later he dove in the waves. I just watched silently as she cared for him and walked through it with him as she had a million times before. Then they called for boogie boards and I brought them quickly. Then off they went just laughing and swimming and hitting the waves.

When he came in you could tell he was a little quiet. Self conscious. She said he surveyed to see who noticed, who saw his episode. Like he has done many times before. Then the day just wore on. He threw the football and flew a boogie board like a kite and laughed and smiled his special radiant smile.

Did I do anything right? Did I help? His seizures are so different than the ones I had seen in the past. I thought I would help him get to the floor and try to cushion his head and protect him from hurting himself as the seizure ran its course. None of the that happened.

This was quick but violent. I wasn’t prepared. It was unexpected. If I was startled I could only imagine what this felt like for him. I understand he fears the seize daily. The unknown. The perceptions of others in the aftermath.

How would I feel living this way? Would I even want to live this way? I admire this boy for overcoming this challenge and the many challenges he will see in his future. Life isn’t easy. Adding a medical challenge like seizures to your life as you enter adulthood may be one of the toughest hurdles he will have to overcome.

I, like many others, admire this young man. He is so strong and so determined but also so tender and kind. He’s a caring soul. He loves kettle corn and kinder chocolate, he gives amazing hugs and is so generous with family and loved ones. He has also endured so much but never takes advantage. He works above and beyond and without drawing attention to it or complaining. He cares so hard for others, keeps a warrior’s heart while weathering storms in his own brain. New love new admiration. And a new desire to understand and cheer for him in ways that matter.

And then his Mom, who had taught him all of this with courage and resilience and determination. Who fights for him and expects him to become his best self. Uncompromising in her belief in him and advocacy for him.

I’m in awe and amazed constantly and more so now than ever. If you ever come across a family who battles daily with a medical challenge, offer kindness and hope your way.

You never know if it’s a good day or a bad day for them. They are most likely shielding their life struggles like most put a bandaid on a cut. Kindness matters. Never judge unless you can walk a day in that hero’s shoes.

He is my hero. Our hero. He his one tough cookie. Today we celebrate him and where he is going in life. Tomorrow is never guaranteed. Seize today.

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celebrations, dare to be different

The Extra Bling

2chicksandapen

What girl doesn’t like bling?

Well apparently the group I travel with is not willing to settle for one medal when they can get another to earn the bonus bling. What’s next….a 5k the morning after!

Sunday was planned to cheer on two of our group running the 5k before we hit the road for our return leg. And then the next not-so-good idea hatched.

The smarty pants of the group read the fine print. The fine print nobody else read because we all focused on the headline….the Marathon. Nope, she read that if you run the smaller race on day two you get a medal for that race and a bonus medal for accepting the challenge.

None of us registered in advance for that. Most of us were sore. Why on earth would we run a 5k? Well, because we are crazy.

Beth, aka Chick 2, sent the email to verify we could register onsite. One by one we agreed this is a very bad idea but we can do it. It’s only 3 miles. That’s a fun run compared to the day before. We pop the Aleve. We whip out the extra set of running clothes. We hydrate again. We giggle.

We have zero preparedness. We grab a quick bite to eat on the way. I got the last bagel at the shop. It wasn’t my favorite flavor but it was a carb and I needed it for fuel. Let’s face it, I needed rocket fuel.

This is us. A group of fit-ish people spending time together making memories. Pain is only temporary, I said to myself. If my calves hurt when it’s time to run I’ll walk. I’ll just keep moving. Isn’t that what life is about? You keep moving through whatever obstacles get in your way.

Port-o-potty time again. Oh, how I hate port-o-potties. They are one of the nastiest places to go voluntarily. You can not unsee what you see inside of them. You can’t not smell the rancid smell that comes with them when the contents are baking for hours in the hot sun. It’s absolutely foul.

Moving on to the race line. The national anthem plays and there is a sense of calm in the air. One by one we line up. We are moved like cattle through the corral. 5-4-3-2-1 time to get this run done.

One mile complete. That wasn’t so bad. 33% complete. The scenery was amazing. A park setting with beautiful trees. Less spectators but off to the streets we go. Houses rich in history. Roundabouts to run. Corners to turn. Mile two was there before you knew it.

Running back to the park you see some running mates. You hear the cheers from friends. The final stretch ends in the minor league stadium. A grand entrance of sorts.

Crowds of people in the stands cheering as run the edge of the field to the finish line. It’s over. We did it. We earned the bonus medals. We didn’t die. Life will continue.

The irony of this story is the bad idea was actually a great idea. The short run loosened us up for the long car ride home. We ran with friends who cheered us on the day before. We did something spontaneous. We made more memories.

The Bad Idea Club is open for membership. Are you ready to join or will you create your own club with likeminded people?

This post series goes out to my tribe. My tribe of strong friends who push through life with me. Thank you for an amazing great story, awesome memories, and adventures to look forward to.

I added some unexpected medals to my collection this weekend. So glad I have friends to remind me to step out of my comfort zone to conquer what seems impossible in the moment. Reflection is key to development. I am always raising my bar to foster my own personal growth.

This post is the third of a series. Be sure to read about the PJ party and the equation post. They go together like peanut butter and jelly.

fitness and nutrition, friendship

3.1 + 13.1 + 20.4+ 20.3 =

2chicksandapen

A bunch of hard work, a ton of memories and few checks off the to-do list is the sum of the above workouts.

That’s right folks, in seven days calendar days I completed the CrossFit open 20.3 WOD Monday, then went on to complete the 20.4 WOD on Friday just hours before traveling to Savannah, GA to complete my very first half Marathon (13.1 miles), The Rock n’Roll Marathon to be specific. If that wasn’t enough, I took the Remix Challenge and did a 5k as a bonus the following day.

Talk about a wild ride. An adventure to say the least. On my journey I had many of my CrossFit besties competing along side me in the Open but a handful took on the marathon event too. Ten in total hit the road for an adventure.

We traveled as a group and rented a beach house for the weekend. We planned an amazing pj party for the night before the race or that was the original plan. Traffic, dinner, race number pickup and other things seemed to get in the way. Sleep called our names but somehow we didn’t get to bed until close to midnight.

That 4:44am wake up call came entirely too early. “This is a bad idea” crossed my mind several times but I just kept moving with the plan. It was cold. We were tired. It was to be expected, I suppose.

Up way too early to get to the start line. It felt like a marathon before we even started. Driving. Parking. Layering up. Port-o-potties. Hydration. More potty breaks. Anticipation. Warm-up. Giggles. Selfies galore. This went on until we hit the corral At 7:30am and peeled off the layers to literally pound the pavement.

It was .25 miles in the corral, full of excitement with friends and strangers. 13.1 on the road and cobblestone and lots of music to soothe the soul or soles. That 13.1 miles was under three hours but seemed never ending at times. Am I there yet? crossed my mind a few times. Another one down was a level of excitement with each passing mile marker. I can do this!

I’m doing this. I’m almost done. This isn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I say that like it wasn’t hard, it was. It just wasn’t impossible. Rather, it was possible and I was the only one who made it possible. This might be the one thing that I learned this weekend about running and myself. I decide. I decide the start and stop. I decide the music. I decide the distance. The duration. The tempo. I am the one that pushes myself over that finish line. My drive. My perseverance. My strength.

The run/walk/jog was a combination of beauty, commitment, community and just raw emotions. Savannah is breathtaking in the scenery department without question. I had plenty of time to be in the moment with the beautiful homes, trees, and community.

I vividly remember a cop at mile 2. He was cheering and giving high fives to runners. He voice was strong and encouraging yet firm and distinct. He made you want to keep going. He said the runners motivate him. That was crazy to me. But I thought about that for a bit on my run.

I also remember running through a small community that wasn’t a well off neighborhood but it had a very populated street of cheerleaders. Strangers cheering on others. I even saw a small child in his Spider-Man suit cheering while holding his mom’s hand. This was simply amazing. They were handing out water to keep the runners hydrated. Would I be out of bed at 8:30am on a Saturday to cheer on a stranger? Another thought to ponder on my run.

6 miles was upon me before I knew it. And I was met there by my three amazing friends. Ali caught my eye first, screaming keep going from a pole if I recall. Guess she wanted me to see her. Kim was snapping pics at the corner and Chris was somewhere nearby. I heard his voice. Just what I needed at the mid way point. Some friendly voices saying keep pushing yourself. These three won my heart for being so supportive.

I can’t leave out the virtual reminders/pushes that were pretty cool. All of our running group put each other in the tracker app. This might have been the best thing next to sliced bread. Chirp, chirp, chirp. I would get a ding every time one of my running mates passed a check point. This was virtual motivation. Mindy was ahead. I could see her pace. I could adjust as I needed to based on how she was doing. This worked for me. I could see Nick. My oldest who was running the full 26.2 marathon on a slightly different course.

Nick was inspiring all by himself. Doing his run his way. Me being able to experience with him from a distance. Talk about a proud Mom moment. I watched him hit the same pace for almost 20 miles. Holy cow he was doing amazing. How could I not keep going. I mean I was only doing 1/2 the race he was.

The chase. The chase to the finish line. I did it. I’m sore but I did it. I met my goal injury- free. I earned my medal and my 13.1 sticker!


This weekend was so full of adventure that I must split my posts. You read my PJ party post, and next I will continue with my bonus medal chasing experience. A series is warranted because this weekend was just that amazing and it’s a story worth sharing.

If you have ever wanted to run half marathon, do it. My tidbits above are only a glimpse of the amazing journey. I chronicled some of my training sessions previously as well. The bottom line is you can do whatever you put your mind to. Plan. Prepare. Put in effort. Repeat. You can make your own memories. It all starts with the sign up form!

fitness and nutrition, hustle

I Felt the Drop…

2chicksandapen

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