"...The Iron is the great reference point, the all-knowing perspective giver. " Henry Rollins

Louis Cyr - Strongman

So this, Blogland, is my great great grandfather, Louis Cyr.
Louis Cyr was a French Canadian strongman, (still) holding the title of "The Strongest Man in Recorded History."
He did had a long and interesting career, with feats like lifting a fully grown horse off the ground, or lifting a 220# barbell with one hand, or lifting 1,075kg (that's literally like a ton) on his back. He even became a circus performer with his wife!
(Other pretty awesome notes, here...)

In my family, we've always joked that we've got some weird mutant muscle genes, as my mother's whole side of the family had some weird predispositions to being strong. My grandmother - at 94 years old - was still picking up her chair (a sturdy reclining wingback) and moving it around the room. At 93, we finally convinced her to stop trying to flip her mattress by herself... Although, who knows, maybe it's just scrappy french-canadian farm family genes. Women gotta get shit done, weight/strength be damned?

In any case, I always found this to be an amusing part of my lineage (I mean, geesh, he's got multiple statues of himself erected in Quebec!).  Yesterday, though, I finally really "connected" with my heritage a bit and competed in my FIRST Power lifting Competition.

The lead-up to it was pretty awful. I mean, obsessing about how much like a sausage you're going to look like in your singlet, plus the concept of having a ton of people stare at you (in your singlet)... plus the phobia of missing a lift or something like that.... It is all very abstract and terrifying if you've never done it before, so I was decidedly nervous. Thankfully, not only was I going to have a buddy - my stellar nutritionist and gym-buddy Charity was also competing - but it sounded like we'd have a cheering section from the gym, too! My Man was coming to spectate and support, as well, so I figured that no matter what happened, I'd be in good company to deal with it.

We arrived at Burlington CrossFit just after 11am, to a room full of people. I was shocked at how many people came out for a power lifting meeting. Not just competitors, but spectators! Apparently, watching people lift things up and put them down is interesting stuff.

As I was getting checked in, I was suddenly asked a ton of questions - what were my opening weights, in kilograms? Oh lord. Thank you for the handy conversion chart on the table. I stuck with the plan - Opening Squat Weight at 286# and Opening Deadlift Weight at 320#. Then, off to find my squat-rack height. Funny enough, the resident heavy-lifter and squat rack master was a dude that I went to school with. He'd also be the squat spotter for the day (more about that later..), but just funny to see a "familiar" face. I've been a spectator at highland games and MMA fights where he's competed, so it was interesting to run into him in yet another burly sort of sport.

Warming up - 225#

All checked in and ready to go, the day was going to start with squats, so Charity and I got around to warming up a bit. I'd been called to Boston for work for the previous two days and was a little worried my legs would be unhappy from sitting in the car so much, but the warm up went well and everything felt like it was working as planned.

When lifting began, the energy became really electric. All the women would go first, as there was only maybe 8 or 9 of us. (C'mon ladies! Where are the rest of you?!)

The squat rack was in the center front of the room, with competitors and spectators forming a ring around the edges. We were announced 3 at a time, so you'd have plenty of time to take deep breaths and get ready to go. The announcer struggled with my name ALL DAY (story of my life), but was a pretty cool guy that really made everyone feel welcome.

When there's only like 8 women ahead of you, it becomes your turn really quickly. Suddenly, it was my turn (ohshitohshitohshitohshit).

New Squat PR: 314.6 pounds! 

I got called up to the rack ("bar is loaded!") and tried to zone out and just take my time to set myself up, just like any other day in the gym.  You certainly do not feel "alone" during this process, because outside of the head judge/announcer staring at you, and the ring of spectators, you also have two burly dudes to either side of you, ready to help catch the bar if you need help, and the rear spotter, all up in your business behind you - just in case. Oddly, it does feel pretty safe, because you never have to worry about getting out of the way or anything, if you can't make it/need to dump it. With a few deep breaths and good thoughts to calm my nerves (I needed to remind myself that you can't lift heavy if your knees are shaking......), I stood it up out of the rack and got the SQUAT! command. Dowwwnnnnnnn..... and Up! No problem. Back in the rack.  Goal Achieved! My major goal coming into this was to just show up and get some numbers on the board. Even if I missed the rest of my lifts, I was going to be okay.  Another couple of rounds and I successfully hit my second lift (303 pounds) and went up to the table to declare what my last lift would be..... oh man. What to do!? I was in totally uncharted territory at this point. 305 was the heaviest I'd ever successfully managed in the gym, although I *almost* stood up 315 the other day... so, what the hell?, I thought. I put my last lift in for 314.6 (kilogram conversions are annoyingly often not round numbers, I found.).

Two lifts on the board, solid lift at just over three hundred pounds, and I was happy, no matter how this last lift went. Although.... being a hugely competitive sort, I wanted to get it. It would mean a new personal record for me, and put me at decidedly the highest women's squat of the day by solidly 40 pounds, I think. Granted, it's probably more impressive when a 125# lady squats 250#, as it's like 2x her body weight... but, still moving 315 up and down would be a pretty solid performance.
AND... awesomely, it worked. And it wasn't bad! I didn't have to fight to get it up. I was working, for sure, but I never got stuck. SUCCESSSSsssss! (Could I have done more? Ooo. Next time.)

Now, with like 2 flights of 10 men (or something like that) to go, then bench presses for men and women, there would be plenty of time for me to rest up, stretch and get ready again before dead lift time. I took the opportunity to eat a protein bar and drink a bunch of water, while watching all the other competitors (note to self: Powerlifting meets are a LONG DAY. Bring more snacks.).
I watched Charity kill her bench presses (my arms were crying, just watching that...) and sat in awe while some of these dudes benched 300 pounds. NUTS I tell you.
That said, I definitely need to get practicing my bench, so that in November I can do a full powerlift (Bench, squat and deadlift).

Finally, the day wore on, and it was dead lift time! Dead lifts may be my favorite (although they're close with squats... just depends on the day..), so I was ready to go for this one. I'd worked through the jitters that morning, and felt a lot more comfortable in the gym.

My opener was a successful and easy 320 pounds. It seems that what Charity told me is true - the dead lifts feel just a little lighter at the meet. Maybe it's the bar (it's more bendy?), maybe it's the grippiness... maybe just the adrenaline you have... but it went up pretty easily.  So, I was right on track with the plan: my second lift would be my former max lift - 340 (although in kilograms, I ended up at like 342 or something like that). That one stood up also pretty smoothly.... uh oh. NOW WHAT? Again, uncharted territory... I didn't want to pick a number I was going to fail, but legitimately had no idea what my capability might be. As I was agonizing over the conversion chart, Charity came running up to me, telling me that was way too easy and I needed to add at least 20 pounds to the bar. Uhm WHAT? my brain said.... but, again... What the hell? right?

I set my third lift to be 358.2 pounds (the closest conversion I could see to 360), and then I went back to my place in the crowd to quietly freak out and watch the other ladies lift, until it was my turn again.

"Bar is loaded!" sounded the announcer, and I stepped up to the bar. Lifting crowds become oddly similar to golf crowds, as they go -completely silent- until you start lifting. I was a little worried about this one, but was feeling strong, so I took a few deep breaths, sat back into my hamstrings and just let it rip.

358.2 pounds for a new PR Deadlift!

This one fought me a little bit - I believe the lingo is that it was a little "hitch-y" - but nonetheless, I got that bad boy stood the eff up. Knees locked, shoulders behind bar, good form. Commence a jersey fist pump celebration. WOO.
I was definitely proud of that one. That is a new PR by 18.2 pounds. YEAAHHH buddy.

I couldn't be happier on finishing that last dead lift. Seriously.

My first meet, I survived the singlet-wearing AND got two new personal records (by significant amounts - 10 pound PR on my back squat and 18. 2 on the deadlift!). You really can't ask for more than that.

I thought I was going to have pulled the heaviest squat and deadlift (for women) for the day, then this woman - Kim - walked out of the crowd. Kim hadn't squatted as heavy as I had, and her opening dead lifts were lighter than mine, so I assumed (very wrongly) that I would out dead-lift her.

Well. Kim walked up to that bar and pulled 385.6 pounds, like it was nothing.

Hot. Damn. You go, girl!

I got the chance to congratulate Kim after, to hear that her goal is to come back in November with a 400 pound dead lift. YIKES.  Looks like I've got a new goal to chase! ;-)

Dead lifts (because of the sheer amount of weight) seem to be the fan-favorite. The men's dead lifts got ridiculously heavy. I got to watch a 17 year old absolutely CRUSH at 600 pound dead lift, to set a new state or national (not sure) record for his age group. Let me tell you - the crowd gets pretty psyched up to see lifts like that happen. I know all the fellow lifters were "lifting" along with him, chanting "up up up!!!" as we watched it sloowly come to height.

As the day wrapped up, I gotta give it to the organizers. Awards were ready and lifts tallied, less than 5 minutes after the last lift of the day.

Charity grabbed a trophy for an age-group first place (Happy Birthday!), and *drumroll* I ALSO got a first-in-my-age-group trophy!
... now, I will say, I'm pretty sure there was no one else in my age group... but. Screw it. LOL.
I'm choosing to use this trophy to commemorate:
1) conquering my fear of the singlet
2) crushing all my lifts that day and
3) Putting up the biggest women's squat for the day. BOOM.

April 2, 2016: Vermont Powerlifting, Age Group Champion 30-34

So, BlogLand, what have we learned here?

Well, it was a good chance to again remind myself to keep taking risks and pushing limits. I feel like I'm doing pretty good so far this year, and it's only April! YEAH.

I have to say though, I found this to be a pretty cool experience. This was legitimately the first time in my life that I've been involved with some sort of "athletic" competition and didn't feel huge and out of place. I've competed in a lot of things - horseback riding, running, obstacle racing, crossfit, etc. - and no matter how well I may do in the scheme of things, I always feel like the biggest chick in the room, or wildly "robust" among long, lean people. I'm just not made that way. Even at my fittest a few years back, running half marathons, I'd be running along side 120 pound chicks that had legs as big around as my arm. I'm telling you BlogLand, it gives you a little bit of complex.

But yesterday, at the power lifting comp, I never felt that way, ever. There were a lot of big people - and I mean big in a variety of ways, tall, muscular, athletic, chunky, etc. - but they were all moving some big weight. If you were there, making an effort, they were right behind you and supportive. After standing up my 314.6 back squat, I got applause and a hearty round of congratulatory "nice lift!" that I never expected. This is a "skill" that comes somewhat easily to me, but it was really cool to be in a room full of people who didn't diminish that skill, or underestimate me, just because I was squishy around the middle. I like these people. :-)

After a pretty intense few months - finishing up my Hatch squat program, completing all the WODS for The Open and gearing up for this competition, it's nice to be returning to my regularly scheduled programming, so to speak.

Tomorrow, I start Week 1, Day 1 of the Couch to 5K program with Holly. This week, I'll get back into the "routine" - restarting Hatch with some bigger weights, getting back to bootcamp a couple times a week and personal training with Robyn (where I fear she's going to go on a mission to wreck my arms.). No particular "big" things on the horizon, other than long term goal of revisiting this Powerlifting comp in November.

Now, I simply wait for/enjoy the arrival of Spring (Dear VT Weather, WHY did you snow today? WTF.), get back to training, and see what happens next!
#newadventures

"Continuous effort - not strength or intelligence - is the key to unlocking our true potential." -Winston Churchill

Blogland, I'm happy to report that I finished the 2016 CrossFit Open this weekend, by surviving the last workout - 16.5. 

16.5 was announced on Thursday night, and I was glued to the live announcement. I felt really good coming off of 16.4 (ALL THE DEADLIFTS!) and was hoping for another WOD that I would be able to do as prescribed (Rx). What I got.... was not exactly what I wished for. 

16.5 was announced as:

(reps) 21-18-15-12-9-6-3

Thrusters

Burpees

at 95# (m)/ 65# (f)

My immediate reaction was, "NOoooooooooooooooOOOOOoooo!!!" due to the extreme dislike I have of burpees. I do, in fact, recognize their training value, but literally, there is no single exercise that makes me want to die more, or faster, than burpees. I had a brief moment of triumph when I realized I could do it Rx (got my wish!) because I know I can do 65# thrusters... and realistically, why wouldn't you go RX, if there's no "scale" for the burpee? You're going to die either way, might as well get more "points" for going RX?

Then, I watched the pro athletes tackle it.... 8 minutes and change was the fastest time... which meant mine was going to be a grueling workout of 25 minutes, I guessed. Oh. Shit.

The feeling in my house after that was not one of calm readiness.... my track record with burpees sucks pretty bad, and I just envisioned myself flopping around on the floor through like 84 of them. I was not beaming with positivity. Further, my Inner Fat Kid had a freak out about how that was going to work on competition day.... I knew I'd take SOOOOOO much longer than everyone else, I just saw the scene in my head.... everyone else done, and waiting on stupid slow Aja to drag herself out of another burpee... Needless to say, I was not looking forward to it. 

I had a little strategy talk with Robyn and a pep talk from my long-time GT... and tried to get my head in the right space. What that turned into was approximately 36 hours of me arguing with myself in my head. Well, emotional side would freak out, rational side would try and outline the plan... and back and forth and back and forth. 

Friday afternoon arrived, and I was in a better headspace... or maybe just a "determined" one? Or a resigned one? Like, I'm going to do my best... and whatever happens, happens. 

Off to the gym I went. 

I got to judge and watch a couple of rounds of people tackling this ugly wod, and it was good (for my mental state) to see that EVERYONE was struggling hard with it. To varying levels of miserableness, but everyone seemed to be hugging the floor, starfishing or sitting like they had just died, after the workout. The end of the workout burpees for everyone were universally not pretty either. I knew mine were going to be.... rough.... but it was comforting to see even the fittest people dragging through those last sets. 

Then suddenly, it was my turn. 

3....2.....1.... GO. 

The initial round of Thrusters (and really, all subsequent rounds of thrusters...) were no problem. I broke it in half, just for good pacing, and I think I broke the 18, 15 and 12 up in half or sets of 5, too, just to pace. 

Thrusters!

The burpees were another story. I tried so hard to keep an even pace.... but that looked like 1 burpee... 2 burpee... (maybe) 3 burpee... stand and huff and puff. Repeat. It was not good. Although, realistically people, I'm peeling 300# off the floor with every burpee. I bet if you put that kind of weight on a fit person, they'd look pretty rough doing them, too. 

Burpees... 

It was a relief every time I got back to the Thrusters - they were my break, where I could kind of catch my breath (...said no one ever... except for me?).  65# thruster was more than manageable for me, so I was able to pace these nicely and breath -which was a pleasant change from BurpeeLand.

Somehow, those thrusters seemed to go by SO quickly though. It felt like all I was doing in this damn WOD was burpees. More burpees. Burpees again. 

Every time I'd hit the floor for a burpee, a refreshing cold breeze from the door would wash over my face and it was so incredibly tempting just to stay there, face down on the floor. But I had to keep getting up. Uuugh burpees. 

Over the bar!

By some miracle, I hit the single digits. 9 reps. 9 burpees sounds less bad too. Just keep going. 

At this point, the entire rest of my heat had finished. I had some staunch supporters around me, screaming encouragement. 

Denise (the queen of enthusiasm) at one point reminded me what my bracelet said - "Unbreakable."

Just what I needed to hear in the moment. My unbreakable bracelet is a Spartan Race bracelet that always reminds me I've done harder things.... like, 160 burpees, in sets of 30, admist 30 obstacles while hiking 14+ miles for the VT Spartan Beast a few years ago. If I can do that... I can surely keep moving until I finish these damn burpees.  

 On and on I went. All fears realized, I was the last one, everyone was waiting on. And yet... my CFW community was not exuding judgement, but just a lot of cheers, encouragement and support, that really helped me get through those last burpees. I wanted to stop and just lay there, SO badly... but how can you stop, when you have the support of all those people pouring in at you? 

"The Starfish"

I finished, with a whopping 30 min, 16 sec. Definitely not what I was hoping for, but I got it done, regardless. I didn't cry, I didn't die..... I DID starfish for like 5 minutes after, like a champ.... 

And with that... the 2016 CrossFit Open was over. 

What a ride. To recap:

16.1: Where we lunged, burpee'd and did some variety of pullups. 

16.2:  Toes to Bar, jump rope (uughh!) and Squat cleans

16.3: 7 minutes of power snatches and me throwing myself at the bar to get a Chest to Bar pull up. 

16.4: All the deadlifts!! (and some wall balls, rowing, and HSPU)

16.5: Thrusters and Burpees. 

So, I sweated (a lot.), I cried (a little), and I learned an immense amount. It was really cool to do the open with CFW and meet a lot of the members that I otherwise might not, as well as suffer together on things that we wondered if we could even survive. 

I also got to see that I did have some "value" as a crossfitter, even if it wasn't in burpees. LOL. Just because I can't burpee to save my life, I'm proud to say that I crushed every movement that came up with a barbell. 16.4 was a GREAT WOD for me.... where many other people struggled really hard. 

The lesson? The Open is there to test you. I learned quite a bit about what I was good at, what I definitely still needed to work on, and was able to put it in a much bigger perspective. I also learned quite a bit about my headspace coming into some of these events, and what I need to work on there.... Yeah, I cried in 16.3, for example.... but out of frustration because I couldn't. quite. get there. BUT... now I have a goal for next year - fix the Upper bod and get some "ups". 

The biggest lesson? In my head, I'm the failing fat kid who struggles every. single. time. with the workout, looking totally stupid in comparison to all the fit and fancy people who frequent my crossfit gym. 

The reality? Everyone struggles at CrossFit, in their own ways, to become better and stronger. We're all fighting the inner demons, and we all hate burpees. LOL. On a serious note though, despite being the biggest person at my gym and competing in the open, I never ONCE felt like I didn't belong - which was one of my fears... that I'd feel out of place. Apparently, my sacrifices of sweat to the gym mat god, were just as valuable as everyone else's. 

If you're wondering if you should do the open next year, you should. Even if you're last on the leaderboard (I'm NOT LAST!!! YESS!!! #Goalachieved), you're still ahead of everyone who was too afraid to try. 

Besides, I did it... what's your excuse?

(And with that, tomorrow I'm testing out my maxes in squat and deadlift with Robyn, so we can get ready for my powerlifting meet on Saturday! YES! )

UPDATE: Here's the leaderboard for CrossFit Waterbury... I'm not LAST!!!

"It doesn't have anything to do with how the world perceives you. What matters is what you see." - Gabourey Sidibe

Blogland, I've had a challenging week.

It all started last weekend, when I competed in my CrossFit box's in-house partner comp. I was decidedly nervous going in - having never competed in something like that before - but I had a stellar partner and felt like there were at least a few sections of it that I could excel at.

The day opened with a WOD that consisted of 5 minutes (each) to hit your 1 rep max in two lifts. For me it was back squats and dead lifts. I felt good going into this, and was really charged up by the community and friendly-competitive atmosphere and pulled some new personal records for myself - not to mention just some straight up respectable lifts: 263# back squat and a 340# dead lift (and, I'm happy to say I think I could've gone a little further with both of those, in a situation without the time constraint). I was beyond thrilled with both of those, as that was like a 15# gain on my last back squat PR and a 10# PR on my dead lift, that I hadn't really been working on. It was a GREAT way to start the day.

Although I was a little self conscious - being literally the heaviest person there that day - I felt like I had demonstrated some value with the lifts. Over the course of the day (and 3 more WODs), my partner and I worked really well together and complemented each other's strengths and weaknesses. Before the last WOD of the day, we sat in a solid 6th place out of 22 (fit people!) teams. Our last WOD was one that I knew I would struggle with... it was a long "chipper" that you just had to work through a little at a time with your partner. However, it had a large amount (for me) of burpees, which are my Achilles heel. I can keep moving all day, carrying heavy weight, but burpees immediately cut me off at the knees, so to speak. BUT... I kept working, I got through them (it wasn't pretty..), and I felt like I left everything out on the table by the end of it. It was literally all I had left.
That said, as ugly as it was, it was enough to finish us in 11th place (out of 22 teams) for the day.

For a fat chick, who's struggling with fitness, I called that a DAMN good victory.

Following the comp, I found myself looking forward to checking out the pictures... I was hoping beyond hope that there would be ONE picture of me doing something that looked strong or powerful. I was under no illusion that I'd look thin, or fit, or they'd catch my good side, but I was really hoping to be able to counter it by saying - eh, well, there's a shit ton of weight on that bar!

Then.... the pictures came out. They were beautiful (their photographer had a great eye for faces and moments). However, there was not a single picture of me in action. There were many pictures of me sitting with my partner, standing around waiting for our heat, etc.  I saw myself in these pictures and was HORRIFIED. I think we've probably all been there, right Blogland? I feel heavy, I know that I am heavy (and frustrated about it), but sometimes seeing that one picture feels like a concrete block to the face.

I won't lie. I didn't have a graceful reaction. I didn't think of what a good day it was, I didn't try and focus on just seeing my strong legs, I didn't feel happiness for having gotten out and done it.... I hardcore cried my eyeballs out, for a solid 15 minutes.

It was working so hard, following "the plan", working with a nutritionist, doing all the "right things"... and then seeing those pictures that confirmed all the things I was feeling - huge, uncomfortable, and no where near fit. I suppose it didn't help that all the people in the pictures around me are fit competitive crossfit types, either. The tears poured out of my face for a while I reflected on how frustrated I was on the lack of noticeable progress I've made in the last 2 years, because my body just isn't on board.

I've made progress - I lift a lot more, my cardio is much better, and my doctors gave me a "surprisingly healthy!" (not kidding) decree... which is all good. But it doesn't help what I'm seeing in the mirror. It doesn't help when I have to go clothes shopping and buy the biggest sizes I've ever bought.

Fast forward to yesterday.

I headed up to B-town to go shopping with my friend, Holly. The Man and I have a semi-fancy dinner date tonight for Valentine's day, so I was hoping to find something a little nicer to wear (when you work from home, somehow your waterbed morphs into a lot of yoga pants...).
I tried on a bunch of things, and then sat in the dressing room and worked through some quiet sniffling. The biggest size I've ever tried on didn't fit right, all the tops I put on seem to put giant glowing neon arrows at my ginormous spare tire, and none of it made me happy. There was a time that I really enjoyed shopping.... and let me tell you, this was not it.

Since then, I've been trying to reflect on all this and find a way to make peace and move forward. To add insult to injury, there's a Powerlifting comp I've been pondering entering in April. However, applications are due in tomorrow. I'm not afraid of the lifting, or the competition.... but I'm terrified at the concept of having to wear a weightlifting singlet. Literally, I kid you not BlogLand, the singlet is the ONLY thing holding me back from entering, and considering not entering.

BUT.... I don't want to be that person. I don't want to be the heavy person that stops doing things, and lets their weight prevent them from enjoying life and the things they want to do. However, I am not sure I can fully express to you how incredibly unimpressed with my body I am right now.

I will admit, I am proud of it that it has gotten so strong (340# Deadlift - you go, legs!). I feel accomplished there.
... but I don't like to look in the mirror. It seems to somehow diminish all the "gainz" I'm making at the gym, by emphasizing all the gains I've made on the scale. Ugh.

I'm in a place of frustration right now, Blogland. Angry at my body for not getting on board with the weight-loss plan. Sad that I can't do a lot of the things I could do a few years ago. Angry that stupid, superficial things (spandex singlet...) are holding me back.

Now, I know this is temporary. I'll figure a way through this. And hell, everything feels a little bit less significant once the sun starts coming out again, and the day time highs are once again above zero. Right now, though... I'm in a self-image hole. I feel shitty.

I have gone to all my workouts this week, got my squats in today, and I'm still putting one foot in front of the other.... But I don't know how to get my brain out of stupid, self deprecating mode, when I look in the mirror, or put on clothes.

Further more... How do I get over my fear of the singlet, so I can get my ass into this powerlifting comp and get myself a cool trophy?
(Because we all know it's about the bling, right?)

UGH. So, tell me, Blogland..... how do you get through your bad self-image spots? How do you learn to appreciate the things about yourself that are not where you want them to be?
What's your advice?