It's all different now.

There is only one thing certain in our lives. . . Nothing will stay the same. Everything continues to change. And change isn’t always comfortable. In fact, I’d say in most situations, change isn’t something that we willingly embrace, no matter how it comes about.

There is change we choose. And there is self-serving decision. There is change we don’t choose. There is change that is selfish, and that is selfless. Change that is good, and change that is bad. It’s either chosen or imposed. Either way, it is defining in its existence.

Change is a tricky process. I know, because I have lived the last 18 years of my life with big changes. I have moved to seven different cities in the last 18 years. That means leaving and starting over a lot of times. Finding new friends, missing old ones. I have determined however, that although leaving is hard, the people you leave behind suffer more. No matter how the leaving comes about.

The person moving on has the benefit of experiencing new things. Even if those things are scary and unknown. The excitement comes with newness. It may not be easy, but it’s new. New is better than the “same old thing.” The person you left behind – they miss you. I’m not just imagining how this feels. I have lived both sides of this, too many times.

Sometimes we are the ones who are choosing the change. I’ve been told recently by a dear friend, “We need to constantly evolve.” Maybe that’s true. It goes along the lines of what I said before, that nothing will ever stay the same. But that one is hard too, when it involves two people. One person wants to “evolve” and one person was happy with the way things were. Or maybe not happy, but not willing to let go of something that was so great at one time. Why do we want to hang on to what was good, even it if isn’t anymore? Well, that’s another topic, I suppose.

I guess if I am really honest with myself, I tend to avoid change because it’s easier to stay the same, although, if you ask my Mom, she’ll tell you that “choosing to do nothing is making a decision in of itself.” I know I’ve shared this gem before, and I may again, because it seems to keep coming back at me in my life, over and over again.

Some types of change are harder for me than others. A change in a relationship is very difficult for me. What I’ve learned about myself, over the years, is that I am a keeper of people. I don’t “discard” people very easily. I can get rid of clothing I don’t wear, and that no longer suits me, was last season’s style, doesn’t fit well, not flattering, the reasons go on and on. . . but people? Well, I hold on to them for much longer. It’s a curse and/ or a blessing. I tend to love people beyond their “value” in my world. I hold on to people for what they “have meant” to me, what I “want them to mean” to me, what I “thought they meant” to me, what they “do mean” to me. You get the point.

So apparently, I choose to stay the same, a lot of the time, unless I have no choice. I choose to not make the hard changes. Why? Because, obviously, that’s hard! But that may change as well. . . because life is a work in progress, right?

They called me Popeye.

Definition: By Mayo Clinic staff
Chronic exertional compartment syndrome is an uncommon, exercise-induced neuromuscular condition that causes pain, swelling and sometimes even disability in affected muscles of your legs or arms.

Really? Who knew? Could this happen to me? YEP.

I’ll tell you a little story. Well, the “little” part won’t appy to size of my arms, they were HUGE. . . I did Angie on Wednesday morning. Thursday I was sore. Normally sore. I did heavy cleans that day. Thursday afternoon I was very sore. Abnormally sore. My biceps were slightly swollen. Mobility was tight. I said to Brady, “My arms have never been this sore, ever. Ever!” Friday morning I was in a lot of pain and my elbow started to swell. Friday the pain and swelling was worse. My arms were bent at about a 35 degree angle and wouldn’t budge. Saturday, worse. Sunday, worse. My arms were close to double their normal size. Minimal range of motion. I was scared. Monday, slight improvement upper arms, forearms getting bigger. Tuesday, swelling moving downward. Wednesday, huge forearms and wrists. Thursday, turning a corner. And so there it goes until finally looking “normal” the following Monday. Quite a process. My life for 12 days. . . pain, swelling, ice, elevation. And I was called "Popyeye" on several occasions. Luckily, I kept my sense of humor, most of the time. And let the record state, that I harbor no ill will toward Angie. It wasn’t her fault. It’s just life. Things happen.

Injury. It sucks. It hurts. It can be scary. It can feel like complete body betrayal. No one wants their training to halt because of unexpected injury. But isn’t injury always “unexpected?” It falls along the lines of “accident.” We don’t plan for it, we don’t think it will happen, but sometimes the body says “no more.” In my case last week, my body said at the top of its lungs, “HELL NO. NO MORE. NO MORE AT ALL!”

So what now? When injury occurs, your first thought is “why now?” I don’t have time for this now. And what you really mean is that you never have time for an injury. But try to focus on what you can do while you’re healing instead of all of the things you can’t. Easier said than done. I was literally envious today when the wod included “ground to overhead anyway.” I was the one holding the PVC pipe. Sad times.

We can be left feeling like we’re taking one step forward and three huge steps backwards when we suffer an injury. How long until we get back to where we were? How far behind will we be? Where could we could have been if it hadn’t happened? It can be disheartening to say the least.

Fitness isn’t always a steady course. It’s kind of like traveling on rolling hills. At times it’s a long steep up-hill battle, with rewards at the top. And sometimes you cruise along like nothing can stop you. Then sometimes you crash at the bottom. . .

It’s at that moment when you have to get up, brush the dirt off and do what it takes to begin the long climb all over again.

It’s worth the effort. I do believe that.

Two-piece. No-peace.

Just say the words , “bikini season” and every women in ear shot will feel a chill down their spine. "Wait," the mind says, “Don’t I have more time?!” No! It is upon us, like a plague that comes around once every year. . .

Why is this season such a nightmare? It’s kind of sad that we wait all year long to get a bit of warmth and sunshine and then it's burdened by the feeling of doom. . . At some point we will be expected to shed the comfort and security of our pants and be forced to reveal what usually only our bathroom mirror is privy too. . . our fannies and backs of our legs.

And if you’re like nearly every woman on the planet, you tell yourself that by “June” you will be ready to bear your legs and midriff. It’s what most of us work for, all year long. It’s the time when we will reveal our months and months of hard workouts and good nutrition choices. We will strut our stuff in short shorts, tube tops, and bikinis. Rock our hard bodies. Own it. Like only CrossFit chicks can.

Right? Oh, wait. . . no, most of that is complete crap. Because even those of us who work out -- five or more days a week, watch our diets, and care about PR’s and WOD times, and obsess about our Oly form. . . are as insecure as anyone else.

At the core, the majority of women, are not satisfied with who we are. Our boobs are not perfect. Either too big, too small, too saggy. Or for some of us, they are almost non-existent (which is fun while living in the world of implants). Our tummy’s pose all sorts of issues. Extra cushion, which is quite stubborn. Stretch marks. Our little gifts from our babies. Crepe-paper-extra skin which doesn’t go away, even when the extra pounds do. Our assses. Well, I could write a whole page about asses. They are too big, too flat, too floppy, too droopy, too dimpled, too. . . well, you get the point. And don’t even get me started on the area we call the “saddle bags,” or the “butternut” as my dear friend refers to hers.

My point is, we all have parts of us that we don’t care for. Even hate, I suppose. And it’s a bit different for all of us. I hate my legs. My vastus-intermedialus, vastus-lateralus, and specifically, my vastus-medialis. In layman’s terms, I hate my quads. I am quite muscular. And although I appreciate what my legs do for me, I wish they’d have chosen to be a bit smaller in that area. I see other girls that lift and are strong. They don’t have legs like mine. Mine are big. I can’t do a dang thing about it. Except try to find a way to appreciate the benefits of my legs. And my small boobs. . . and . . . every other part of my body that I wish I could change.

You see, all of us struggle with body image. Even the girl that I watched at the 2010 CrossFit Games this weekend -- who I thought was “perfect.” She doesn’t believe that. She’d have a list all her own of all the things she wishes she could change. A list of self-imposed imperfections.

So what do I do with this knowledge? Knowing that none of us believe we are good enough? That all of us fall short of where are want to be?

As an intelligent woman of faith, I should know, without doubt, that “we” insecure women are all so very wrong. We don’t know how good we have it. We are bitching about little “things” while others are dealing with disease or birth defects. We are focused on “perfection” rather than “well-being.”

I should be grateful for my healthy body that I work so hard for. Embrace my legs for their strength. Be thankful for the tiny breasts that nursed both of my daughters for almost 5 years. (Yes, I said TWO daughters and FIVE years. Gasp. Different topic). I should know that the stretch marks on my body, mark time – time of a blessed life lived. I should know that my imperfections make me unique, not horrible. Being able to work out is a piece of good fortune and moving my body is a gift.

I should laugh in the face of bikini season. But even knowing what I do, the stupid, insecure girl in me. . . doesn’t.

Burpees are free.

Motivation, priorities, excuses. All of these things affect your workouts. We are either extremely lacking or highly motivated. We either make it a priority or we shove it to the end of the list. Excuses come in many, many forms.

Motivation, for me, comes in waves. Some people are motivated by failure. I am not. I am motivated by good things. A great lift, a good WOD time, a run that I didn’t hate. These are things that spur me on to have the same experience the next day. Of course every day can’t be a good day. I try to tell myself, “good days, bad days.” But I have to admit that my motivation begins to lack when I feel like I’m not doing well, or performing to my potential. That’s when the "inner quitter” in me says “who cares?” Who cares if I lose? Who cares if I am strong? Who cares how fast I run a mile? Who cares what my Fran time is? And then I shake myself and say, rather loudly, “I DO!” And that tends to get me back on track. Steers me back to being the motivated athlete I want to be. So, like I said, it comes in waves.

I also believe that setting goals helps me greatly. I sit down and make a list of what I want to accomplish and in what time frame. I don’t just think about it. I write it down. Everyone needs goals. Or else we’re purposelessly wandering through weeks of wods and lifts, never getting to where we want to be. We need purpose. With purpose, we’re motivated to meet our goals. And then we need to prioritize our lives to make meeting these goals possible.

Prioritizing our lives can be quite complicated, especially when it comes to working out. It’s often the first thing that people will push to the bottom of the list when they are busy. But not for me. I can honestly say that when it comes to working out, it’s very near the top of my priority list. I don’t schedule anything that gets in the way with my workouts. Some would say this makes me selfish. And I will agree that it is my choice to make it more important than other things in my life, but does that make me selfish? I don’t think so. Isn’t that what we all do? We all make time for the important things. It’s about finding a balance between the things we have to do and the things we want to do. On my “want to do” list, working out takes the top priority. And I’ve been blessed to make that work. My schedule is easier to manipulate than it is for some, I fully admit that. I also make choices with my time. But it may not always be such. I may not always have this amount of freedom. And then I will re-prioritize my time to make it work. Because it is that important to me. And if you want to be fit, really fit, then you have to make it a priority, you can’t make excuses.

Excuses, excuses, excuses. Rarely are they valid. But I will say that I thoroughly believe that all of us can make excuses for any and everything that we do or don’t do, and the way anything turns out. “I can’t workout because I am sick.” Not usually true. I’ve worked out sick many, many times. I use the rule of thumb, “would I call in sick if someone was paying me?” You may not be as good, but you will survive. Sometimes I think it even helps. “I can’t workout because I was up late and I’m hungover.” Sadly, I can attest to the fact that surviving a CrossFit wod hungover doesn’t rate high on my list of good times, but you will live. I promise you. “I’m too busy.” Can you rearrange your schedule to accommodate a workout? How many of hours of TV did you watch this week? Or talked on the phone? Find the time. Most of us can. Treat it like a very small part time job. Don’t negotiate when it comes to your workouts. “I’m too sore.” Never true. You’ll be fine. Unless you’re dealing with an injury, get your butt back in the gym. “I don’t have the money.” Add up your Target receipts. Then add your Starbucks receipts. Then add your fast food receipts. This one usually comes back to our talk about priorities.

Of course sometimes you are actually too sick, or too busy, or too broke. There are circumstances when all of the above reasons are beyond your control and you just simply can’t make it work. I totally get that. I am speaking for the majority of us. Not all of us. But just be honest with yourself. You’ll know if your reason for skipping a workout is valid. Just get back to it when you can.

Remember, 50 burpees for time is a great WOD. It’s short, maybe not-so-sweet, but it won’t cramp your busy schedule. And trying to get it done in less than 3 minutes is a great goal to be motivated to accomplish. You can do it at home or anywhere for that matter. And burpees are free.

Be motivated. Make working out a priority. Stop making excuses.

Taking a a break.

I haven’t had much to say lately. And that rarely happens to me. Just ask anyone who knows me very well. I can usually talk for two people at once. I may even talk over the top of you to get my point across – or a thought out. It’s not because I don’t value what you say, or that I don’t want to hear you. It’s just that when a thought arises, I feel like I need to get it out. Right then or I may forget. But that’s not really true, because I have an excellent memory. I can remember what you were wearing to a BBQ three years ago. But my mind does tend to jump around quite quickly, and I am apparently a very selfish conversationalist. I apologize for that. But I should warn you, it will not change.
Anyway, I’ve always been told that if you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all. I guess I have taken that advice to heart of late. I’m sure my Mother wishes I would have followed that advice several years ago. But we’re not talking about years ago, it’s now. And lately I’ve said nothing. At all.
Has it helped? No. I don’t think it has. I think being silent has not been good for me. I think that retreating in to yourself may not be a place where some of us should go. I’ve never been solitary by nature, so when my behavior goes in this direction, red flags go up everywhere. It’s a blessing and a curse. No, I suppose it’s JUST a blessing. I am very grateful for everyone in my life that knows me so well that when I deviate from the norm, it doesn’t go unnoticed. I am lucky.
I have had my quiet time. I am ready to talk again. I hope those of you who are still listening will continue to see what I have to say. And thank you for sticking by me and continuing to read whatever I write.
Until next time. Soon.

Little girl. Big personality.

Raising daughters can be challenging. And I am just at the beginning of what that means. . . It would be wonderful to ask my Mom what she thinks about this topic, but I will save that for another time. Today, I am going to talk about Stella.

My Stella. She is seven. She’s a spit-fire of a girl. She says it like it is. She doesn’t take no for an answer. She is loving and tender, but has a tough side that is ever present.

And she is so different from Sophia. Which isn’t a bad thing, and I suppose that I am quite different from my own sister. Actually, I am very different, but there are things about us that are amazingly similar that everyone doesn’t see. Anyway, that isn’t what this is about.

Recently I have become aware that my “baby” is wanting to be “older.” She is showing this to me in so many ways. For example, I have become “embarrassing” to her. In so many ways. I have been told that kissing her in the classroom is not allowed. Its embarrassing. Putting my hand down her shirt to feel her skin. That very embarrassing. Okay, maybe I can see her point there. But in my defense, she is my baby girl, and I have had access to her wonderfully soft skin since giving birth. Can I be blamed for wanting to touch it when I can? But I guess that time is passing. How sad.

She’s also become so aware of her “standing.” We bought her a new bike last weekend. Unfortunately for Stella, she is a bit short, which means that she has to choose from bikes that come with training wheels. Stella hasn’t used training wheels for years. She was mortified, to say the least, that she would have to purchase a bike that came with such wheels. We tried telling her that we’d take them off the second we got home. But that was not great consolation. In the end, Stella and I had to walk 100 feet behind her Dad to exit Wal-Mart, so no one watching would ever think that said bike would belong to her. And we had to purchase an after-market kick-stand to appease her!

Then she came home the other day and told me that “Wyatt is in love with me.” I told her I thought she was too young to be in love. She replied, and I quote, “Dude, I want to know what it’s like to have a boyfriend!” I repeated that I thought she was too young and that she needed to be friends with boys at this point. Next thing I know, she is coming around the corner with tennis balls tucked up in her shirt, representing breasts, and she declares, “I am nineteen. Now I can have a boyfriend.”

So today, Stella comes in the door from school with a bounce in her step. I say “What’s up baby girl?” She says, “I have a boyfriend now.” I said, “Wow. How did that happen?” She replied, “I asked Grace to ask Wyatt to be my boyfriend and apparently he said yes.” So I asked her if it had occurred to her to wait to have him “ask her?” She said, “ No, why would it?”

Well, Stella has begun a path for herself. A path of “I will get my own.” Is it a good path? I guess that remains to be seen. I think it’s a great thing to know what you want and go after it. But I also think there is something to be said for patience and all things happening in their own time.

One thing is for certain, she is one very determined little girl. And that alone will serve her well.

What was I going to do?

This is dedicated to my sister, Lisa. I am her “favorite blogger.” I am also the only blogger she reads. I love you. And thank you for being my biggest fan. . .

I washed my face with hair mousse last night. This of course wasn’t my plan. I had just gotten home from teaching a class at CFLT. I was tired. The girls were complaining about getting ready for bed. The cats were on my counter wanting a drink from the sink. All I wanted to do was get in to my pajamas, wash my face, put on my numerous wrinkle-prevention products and relax on the couch. And my mind was racing about all kinds of things I need to do and was trying not to forget. So after applied said “cleanser” to my face, my first thought was “wow, this is sticky.” It was about that time that I was trying desperately to scrub off mascara with no luck, that I realized that I was indeed washing my face with hair product! I looked in the mirror. My eyes were squinted at this point because, just so you know, mousse stings, and I said to myself, “You are losing your mind.”

I’ve been a bit distracted lately. A bit “off.” I’ve always thought of myself as highly organized – and not forgetful. Not like my sister, Lisa, or Trisha Brock “organized” – but pretty dang good. But when I really look at my life, I think that statement only applies to me as an employee. And that’s maybe because I put a “job” before my personal life when I have one. I can say that I am an exemplary employee. Never miss a deadline. Never had a poor review. Always did my job to the best of my ability. Was it because I got paid? Or because I felt appreciated? I don’t know.

Over the last 9 years, since becoming a Mom, I’ve tried to be my former “organized” self. But I think I’m finally ready to admit, that this isn’t the best job for me. Don’t get me wrong, I am doing it and getting it done. I keep a clean house, bills are paid, and the girls are where they need to be on time. They are well loved, and well mannered. I think by most standards, I do a good enough job, although I usually feel a bit crazy.

So maybe I’m not as “on it” as I thought I once was. Or maybe I only think about the stuff that I want to, and the other stuff just goes by the way side to be dealt with only when absolutely necessary. There is so much to remember and keep track of. Specifically when you have school aged kids. Do you know how much paper comes home with kids? I wish I was the Mom who always knew what was going on at school, but I’m not. I usually scan the kids’ folders and unless something really jumps out at me, then it gets a quick deposit to the recycle bin. And then Cari or Michelle reminds me about Skate Nights and Muffins with Mom. I should write this stuff down.

I’ve also determined that I am not good at remembering upcoming special occasions. If you’re my good friend and you’ve rarely received a birthday card over the last 10 years or so, well then, already know this about me. My sister has told me several times that if I kept an updated calendar of these important dates I’d be fine. Unfortunately, I do this some years and some years I just don’t. But don’t worry, it does work both ways – I really won’t hold it against you if you forget my birthday. I promise.

So I have decided to get things in order. Come up with systems to remember things – and places to put everything – from birthdays to school activities, CFLT business, and of course my personal life. I am capable of this. I just have to make the time to do it. Make organizing my life a priority, instead of just dealing with things as they present themselves. In the long run, I’ll be much better off having a true plan of action rather than having my, at times a bit flighty, brain clogged with all of the random things a women/wife/mother has to think about. It seems rather overwhelming and time consuming to try and come up with a better strategy, but what I am doing now certainly isn’t efficient and is clearly not working.

First line of business? Separate hair products from face cleansers on the bathroom counter!