2013 was a phenomenal year! It was my first full calendar year clean and sober. And with all of the wonderful drunken holidays, oh hell, who am I kidding...every day used to be a good day to drink. But without alcohol, I have seen and experienced so many changes in my life...all for the better. I would have never thought or said that at the beginning of 2012. If nothing else, I truly believe I have become a more well rounded and better person in general.
It was a year filled with many emotional ups and downs, but instead of picking up a bottle of booze, I chose to face each moment head on. There have been plenty of learning experiences, such as my trip to California, where I was so overcome with emotion from simply getting on a plane, and having so much support for my endeavours, that it became impossible to perform my best in competition. But given time to reflect, the competition was only a small part of why I was on that trip in the first place. The kindness and generosity shown to me by the strongman community far outweighs bringing home a duffle bag full of free stuff...although, the duffle bag was pretty cool! And I can't even begin to explain everything I learned about myself in one blog.
The year was also full of physical changes that were not necessarily in my original game plan, but game plans have a tendency to change by halftime anyway. I really didn't have any specific goals, except to lift heavy (and never, ever squat again). After my first strongman competition in March, all of that changed. Strongman competitors are passionate about what they do; not for the all mighty dollar (with the exception of a select few), but for the love of the sport. With each contest came bigger goals, and the desire to learn anything and everything about the upcoming events; which also meant facing the challenge of changing all of my lifting techniques...starting from scratch. But hey, how hard can it be after deciding to start my life over. I will be able to answer that in 2018...if I am lucky. :)
So, on the final day of 2013, I thank everyone that has been a part of my journey. From the simple words of encouragement, they mean the absolute world to me; to those who have guided me on this windey ass road, I will never stop listening and learning; and to those who are a part of my daily routine of work, lifting, and enjoying life. It will be difficult to top this amazing year, but I will do my best. My journey is far from over. I still have a lot to learn, even more weight to lift, and definitely more writing to do!
LIVE, LOVE, & LIFT in 2014!
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Free Time
So, now that you are sober, what the heck do you do with all your free time? I know, personally, that thought crossed my mind quite a few times, especially in my early days of sobriety. By now, if you have read any of my blogs, you know that lifting is my passion, obsession, and non-paying side job. The one thing that helped bring me back to life! But honestly, lifting was not even in my thought process during my first weeks of sobriety; a time when there is a necessity to fill the gaps between work and sleep.
I was told multiple times by more than one person, you need to find a hobby. Hobby? My hobby was sitting on a barstool! Although true, that answer did not get me very far in my new way of living. Sitting on a barstool drinking diet soda will only make you the butt of every drunk guy's jokes. I know because I tried it. So, the next best item on the list was sports and lifting.
At first, I was pretty well set, and in fact, happy with my decision to never touch a weight again. It brought back to many memories of perceived failures. I went from being a top area crossfitter to an unhappy, over-weight crossfit coach...a transformation paved by injuries, depression, and lots of alcohol. So, in my mind, a return to lifting would bring failure. And failure would ultimately lead me back to alcoholism. Drinking was the only way I knew how to deal with those situations.
Ulitimately, you do have to find something to fill those moments of boredom, aka put something in your hands besides drugs or a cold one. And the sooner the better. For me, it took some convincing that failure was not directly related to any type of athletic endeavour. The most important thing to remember is that alcoholism is a disease; a preoccupation with a substance, lack of control, and a way to hide from the world. So, I started with early morning rowing workouts, and the rest is history. There are many people that use lifting as a way to relieve stress, but I use it for pure enjoyment and peacefulness. It helps me clear my mind, re-focus my energy, and reach for goals that don't include an eighteen pack.
It is hard enough to try and help someone turn away from a life long addiction, but helping someone stay sober is more or less a monumental task. There are typically multiple emotional responses that trigger the knee jerk reaction to reach for a beer or a bottle of pills. Addicts have to have something else to reach for...a book, pen and paper to write, music, or a stack of weights. Finding that one hobby is essential in the recovery process. And it doesn't have to be something your good at, or used to enjoy. If your chosen hobby is something new, you will have plenty of time to perfect it. In addition, my last year of competeing in strongman and powerlifting has taught me how to deal with a lot of emotions, ups and downs, that I would have previously tucked away in a bottle of beer. It hasn't been easy, in fact, a lot has been pretty hard, but it has all been well worth the fight.
FYI...I really wanted to answer the initial question with "I'm going to Disney World". ;)
I was told multiple times by more than one person, you need to find a hobby. Hobby? My hobby was sitting on a barstool! Although true, that answer did not get me very far in my new way of living. Sitting on a barstool drinking diet soda will only make you the butt of every drunk guy's jokes. I know because I tried it. So, the next best item on the list was sports and lifting.
At first, I was pretty well set, and in fact, happy with my decision to never touch a weight again. It brought back to many memories of perceived failures. I went from being a top area crossfitter to an unhappy, over-weight crossfit coach...a transformation paved by injuries, depression, and lots of alcohol. So, in my mind, a return to lifting would bring failure. And failure would ultimately lead me back to alcoholism. Drinking was the only way I knew how to deal with those situations.
Ulitimately, you do have to find something to fill those moments of boredom, aka put something in your hands besides drugs or a cold one. And the sooner the better. For me, it took some convincing that failure was not directly related to any type of athletic endeavour. The most important thing to remember is that alcoholism is a disease; a preoccupation with a substance, lack of control, and a way to hide from the world. So, I started with early morning rowing workouts, and the rest is history. There are many people that use lifting as a way to relieve stress, but I use it for pure enjoyment and peacefulness. It helps me clear my mind, re-focus my energy, and reach for goals that don't include an eighteen pack.
It is hard enough to try and help someone turn away from a life long addiction, but helping someone stay sober is more or less a monumental task. There are typically multiple emotional responses that trigger the knee jerk reaction to reach for a beer or a bottle of pills. Addicts have to have something else to reach for...a book, pen and paper to write, music, or a stack of weights. Finding that one hobby is essential in the recovery process. And it doesn't have to be something your good at, or used to enjoy. If your chosen hobby is something new, you will have plenty of time to perfect it. In addition, my last year of competeing in strongman and powerlifting has taught me how to deal with a lot of emotions, ups and downs, that I would have previously tucked away in a bottle of beer. It hasn't been easy, in fact, a lot has been pretty hard, but it has all been well worth the fight.
FYI...I really wanted to answer the initial question with "I'm going to Disney World". ;)
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Non-Traditional
Gone are the days of the cheap plastic snowman on the front porch, faded orange lights in the windows made to look like candles, the boxes and boxes of meaningless Hallmark collectable ornaments, and the extra creepy angel with bed head that topped our tree. It was all very materialistic for the most part. Christmas still has plenty of meaning without these things.
Since high school, fall and winter holidays were more about spending quality time with friends and coaches. Commiting yourself to a sport, specifically basketball, meant that these holidays fell right into a big holiday tournament or the tune-up games before conference play started (the games that really count). As a collegiate coach, holiday tournaments were the optimal recruiting tool; which meant hitting the road to see as many players as possible before the team returned to campus.
In college, I learned to appreciate the non-traditional holiday festivities. One year I was stuck on campus due to really large chick from Trinity University clocking me in the eye. My vision was so blurred, I was unable to make the three hour drive home. A teammate invited me to her apartment, where her parents delivered some of the best homemade South Texas food I have ever had. Being stuck in Gettysburg, Pa during grad school, I enjoyed a traditional meal with my roommate's girlfriend (now wife) and her family, and then traveled back to G-Burg to see Toy Story at the movie theater. A movie?? Unheard of in my family.
And gifts...well, I always got loads of crap for Christmas, nothing memorable, with the exception of the one present I received from my grandparents every year. They worked hard for every dime they earned, and the fact that they would save up to spend money on me, well, it made every gift special. The year that my grandfather declared that my bike from Santa was the hardest thing to put together still makes me smile...Santa delivered it built. The only other thing I truly enjoyed was hanging the house lights with my dad. It was the one on one time, once a year, that I cherished...especially since it was a rarity.
Now days, the tree, collectable ornaments, and lights stay packed away in the attic. As long as I have the one person that means the world to me by my side, and the zoo of animals, I don't need all those other things. And I don't need a specific holiday to appreciate what I have. In the last eleven years, every holiday has been different...from cooking a turkey on an open fire at the Frio River and making a tree out of beer caps, to eating tamales at the lake house and smoking a Liga cigar, to doing absolutely nothing. Each and every holiday is just as special as the last...no decorations required.
Since high school, fall and winter holidays were more about spending quality time with friends and coaches. Commiting yourself to a sport, specifically basketball, meant that these holidays fell right into a big holiday tournament or the tune-up games before conference play started (the games that really count). As a collegiate coach, holiday tournaments were the optimal recruiting tool; which meant hitting the road to see as many players as possible before the team returned to campus.
In college, I learned to appreciate the non-traditional holiday festivities. One year I was stuck on campus due to really large chick from Trinity University clocking me in the eye. My vision was so blurred, I was unable to make the three hour drive home. A teammate invited me to her apartment, where her parents delivered some of the best homemade South Texas food I have ever had. Being stuck in Gettysburg, Pa during grad school, I enjoyed a traditional meal with my roommate's girlfriend (now wife) and her family, and then traveled back to G-Burg to see Toy Story at the movie theater. A movie?? Unheard of in my family.
And gifts...well, I always got loads of crap for Christmas, nothing memorable, with the exception of the one present I received from my grandparents every year. They worked hard for every dime they earned, and the fact that they would save up to spend money on me, well, it made every gift special. The year that my grandfather declared that my bike from Santa was the hardest thing to put together still makes me smile...Santa delivered it built. The only other thing I truly enjoyed was hanging the house lights with my dad. It was the one on one time, once a year, that I cherished...especially since it was a rarity.
Now days, the tree, collectable ornaments, and lights stay packed away in the attic. As long as I have the one person that means the world to me by my side, and the zoo of animals, I don't need all those other things. And I don't need a specific holiday to appreciate what I have. In the last eleven years, every holiday has been different...from cooking a turkey on an open fire at the Frio River and making a tree out of beer caps, to eating tamales at the lake house and smoking a Liga cigar, to doing absolutely nothing. Each and every holiday is just as special as the last...no decorations required.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Bend the Bar
Imagine for a moment:
Sixty or so people gathered around the platform, most have their phones in hand with cameras turned on...your name is announced, you wait at the back of the platform, hands chalked up...the bar is loaded and lowered to the floor...the judge lets you know the platform is ready, his hand is raised in the air...the crowd starts to cheer and yell your name...your eyes lock in on the bar, you take three steps to the bar and set your feet, you quickly bend and set your grip...you take a big deep breath and begin to pull.
With 551# loaded on the bar, an all-time world record is now in your hands.....
(Insert the sound of screeching tires)
Yeah, I was good with the visualization right up until the 551 pounds. I was one of the people in the crowd with my phone in hand and cheering loudly. And I have realistic goals, which currently do not include that kind of weight or any world records. Maybe some day.
At 41 years of age, Jill Mills made the most amazing deadlift attempt I have ever seen. It is one pull that people will talk about for months...maybe longer. Since the video and pictures have made it to the masses via Facebook, you probably know that the bar slipped out of her hands just shy of a full lockout. I watched the live version and have since watched the video at least twenty times. And each time, I quietly cheer for her to lock it out and set the record...like it is all happening for the first time. Even though the lift will not go into any record books, it was one hell of an ending to a long meet!
The best thing about it...officially retired or not, Jill is not done. Call it a comeback, call it perfect timing, call it what you want...but that record will be broken in the upcoming year. And personally, I can not wait to see it!!!
If you have not seen the lift, here it is...
http://youtu.be/Vq4_wIuWFkE
Kids do not try this at home...no matter how strong you think you are, you are not Jill Mills.
Sixty or so people gathered around the platform, most have their phones in hand with cameras turned on...your name is announced, you wait at the back of the platform, hands chalked up...the bar is loaded and lowered to the floor...the judge lets you know the platform is ready, his hand is raised in the air...the crowd starts to cheer and yell your name...your eyes lock in on the bar, you take three steps to the bar and set your feet, you quickly bend and set your grip...you take a big deep breath and begin to pull.
With 551# loaded on the bar, an all-time world record is now in your hands.....
(Insert the sound of screeching tires)
Yeah, I was good with the visualization right up until the 551 pounds. I was one of the people in the crowd with my phone in hand and cheering loudly. And I have realistic goals, which currently do not include that kind of weight or any world records. Maybe some day.
At 41 years of age, Jill Mills made the most amazing deadlift attempt I have ever seen. It is one pull that people will talk about for months...maybe longer. Since the video and pictures have made it to the masses via Facebook, you probably know that the bar slipped out of her hands just shy of a full lockout. I watched the live version and have since watched the video at least twenty times. And each time, I quietly cheer for her to lock it out and set the record...like it is all happening for the first time. Even though the lift will not go into any record books, it was one hell of an ending to a long meet!
The best thing about it...officially retired or not, Jill is not done. Call it a comeback, call it perfect timing, call it what you want...but that record will be broken in the upcoming year. And personally, I can not wait to see it!!!
If you have not seen the lift, here it is...
http://youtu.be/Vq4_wIuWFkE
Kids do not try this at home...no matter how strong you think you are, you are not Jill Mills.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
the Mental Game
For some odd reason, I chose to pursue psychology for my undergrad degree. And not your typical educational or lab-rat variety...my program was based in phenomenological psychology. It is what happens when psychology meets philosophy. I can feel my dumb jock image slipping through my hands as I type. Yes, I admit, I have fifteen plus hours in philosophy.
During the late '90's, my small University still had issues in various departments, psychology being one, with accepting athletes as "normal" students. There were still quite a few professors that did not want athletics on campus, and wanted to penalize student-athletes for missing class, or did not want them in their class at all. So, when I decided to write my thesis on "being in the zone" and achieving "peak performance" in sports, I was not sure if I was putting the final nail in my coffin or if I could make a subtle statement for change and acceptance for student-athletes.
The basis of my research came from descriptive accounts of professional athletes being in this particular moment during competition. I relied heavily on Greg Louganis' book "Breaking the Surface". Even if you don't particularly like Greg Louganis, or elite-level diving, his first hand accounts of the performance mind-set are well worth the read.
In any case, I could sit here and type out eight thousand factors that are required to achieve peak performance. And you would read through them, agree with some, and think about others...hell, you might even think some are complete crap. Ultimately, it would be a pretty boring and useless blog. Why? Because everyone is always searching for the missing piece, the one factor that will help carry them to the top of their game. The problem is this...there are so many factors, both intrinsic and extrinsic, that the piece usually missing is "you". In some ways, it is kind of like a diet, or training method...what may work for one, may not work for anyone else.
The "you" is the factor of knowing yourself; from your abilities, to what motivates you, to what helps you tune into your highest level of performance when needed. Knowing yourself also includes understanding and accepting your limitations, to what distractions may inhibit performance. When I played college ball, I had no defensive skill what so ever...with the exception of committing fouls. But what I didn't have, I made up for in scoring and rebounding. Going into a game, I would set the tone by knocking down 3pters in front of the other teams bench. I did this primarily to play a mind game. Was the coach now going to over look aspects of the game while worrying about me going off for forty points. It was worth a try! With that being said, I had enough faults in my game that it was possible to get in my head, and completely shut me down through frustration alone. A smaller player with quick hands and feet was the easiest way.
The simple fact is once you figure youself out, you are more likely to find those moments in competition where you are locked in and completely absorbed in your actions. You see things in slow motion. Movements seem to flow and appear effortless. And you can't recall anything around you, with the exception of your own skills at work. It is quite an experience yes, but takes a lot of preparation, work on and confidence in your skills.
I was always a team sport athlete, until I began competing in CrossFit in 2008. For me, the mindset is completely different, and something I am still getting used to. When you are surrounded by a team, your individual performance can be offset by the performance of those around you. But as an individual, you are on your own to get the job done. However, to achieve a high level of performance, it still begins with knowing and having confidence in your abilities, which is built through years of practice. I didn't become an accurate three point shooter overnight...that's for sure.
During the late '90's, my small University still had issues in various departments, psychology being one, with accepting athletes as "normal" students. There were still quite a few professors that did not want athletics on campus, and wanted to penalize student-athletes for missing class, or did not want them in their class at all. So, when I decided to write my thesis on "being in the zone" and achieving "peak performance" in sports, I was not sure if I was putting the final nail in my coffin or if I could make a subtle statement for change and acceptance for student-athletes.
The basis of my research came from descriptive accounts of professional athletes being in this particular moment during competition. I relied heavily on Greg Louganis' book "Breaking the Surface". Even if you don't particularly like Greg Louganis, or elite-level diving, his first hand accounts of the performance mind-set are well worth the read.
In any case, I could sit here and type out eight thousand factors that are required to achieve peak performance. And you would read through them, agree with some, and think about others...hell, you might even think some are complete crap. Ultimately, it would be a pretty boring and useless blog. Why? Because everyone is always searching for the missing piece, the one factor that will help carry them to the top of their game. The problem is this...there are so many factors, both intrinsic and extrinsic, that the piece usually missing is "you". In some ways, it is kind of like a diet, or training method...what may work for one, may not work for anyone else.
The "you" is the factor of knowing yourself; from your abilities, to what motivates you, to what helps you tune into your highest level of performance when needed. Knowing yourself also includes understanding and accepting your limitations, to what distractions may inhibit performance. When I played college ball, I had no defensive skill what so ever...with the exception of committing fouls. But what I didn't have, I made up for in scoring and rebounding. Going into a game, I would set the tone by knocking down 3pters in front of the other teams bench. I did this primarily to play a mind game. Was the coach now going to over look aspects of the game while worrying about me going off for forty points. It was worth a try! With that being said, I had enough faults in my game that it was possible to get in my head, and completely shut me down through frustration alone. A smaller player with quick hands and feet was the easiest way.
The simple fact is once you figure youself out, you are more likely to find those moments in competition where you are locked in and completely absorbed in your actions. You see things in slow motion. Movements seem to flow and appear effortless. And you can't recall anything around you, with the exception of your own skills at work. It is quite an experience yes, but takes a lot of preparation, work on and confidence in your skills.
I was always a team sport athlete, until I began competing in CrossFit in 2008. For me, the mindset is completely different, and something I am still getting used to. When you are surrounded by a team, your individual performance can be offset by the performance of those around you. But as an individual, you are on your own to get the job done. However, to achieve a high level of performance, it still begins with knowing and having confidence in your abilities, which is built through years of practice. I didn't become an accurate three point shooter overnight...that's for sure.
B double E double R U N
I almost caved...to stress, to pressure, to searching for a resolution under time constraints...but I didn't. It would have been the easy way out, yes. But would I have taken the correct steps in helping to rectify the situation, no. In fact, beer would have only made the situation worse, and deep down I knew that. I just had to take time, sit down, and sort through all of my feelings and thoughts.
When a loved one is put into a potential dangerous and harmful situation, for me, there is nothing I wouldn't do. Literally. Although I can not go into any detail about the events, just take a moment to think about your worst fears coming true. And those fears directly affecting your best friend, the one person you love more than any thing in the world.
Anger is my achilles heal, which I will discuss more in another blog. It is typically my first response, my first reaction, if you will, to a situation in which a friend's well-being is threatened. I have battled with anger for the majority of my life. Let me define my anger for you. First, it is not linked in any way to frustration. Missing a lift is frustrating, cleaning up after people at work is frustrating, forgetting to dry your work clothes is frustrating. For me, anger is an emotion that occurs like the flip of a switch, some times resulting in irrational responses such as punching the closest inanimate object, to uncontrollable tears and trembling hands. Other times, clinching my jaw so much that it hurts the next day. The majority of the time, I get blind-sided by my anger. I am a very laid back person by nature, but when a certain button gets pushed repeatedly, I let it build up, although I have no feelings of it building up, and it ends in a grand explosion. It is all a very quick process. How long does it take your vehicle to go from zero to sixty? That is how my anger works.
For example, years back I was with three friends at a bar playing pool. Three chicks sat down at a table close to the pool table, and immediately started making rude comments about my friends. Granted we were an odd four-some...two of us in workout clothes and two in business suits, with an age difference of about 10-12 years. One chick would not stop with her comments, just loud enough for me to hear. Before anyone else knew what was going on, I threw my pool stick on the table, leaned down in her face, and asked her what the fuck her problem was. I told her to fucking stand up if she wanted to say anything else, and before I knew it her 5'4" boyfriend was in my face...or chest rather. Her boyfriend, the bouncer, told me to leave. I insulted her and her boyfriend a few more times, turned and punched the back of a chair, knocking almost everything on the table to the floor, and headed for the door. Once outside, I threw a handful of quarters into the parking lot and then drove home...cooling down on the way.
Last weekend my protective nature leading to an explosion of anger was exposed again. This time I had no control of the situation, and once I began to put the pieces together that lead to a very unexpected outcome, my car door paid the price. And then my tires, as I peeled out of the parking lot like some teenager showing off a newly discovered talent. During moments like this, my first thought is that beer will help. I actually went as far as to pull off at a gas station with the intention of purchasing beer. And it wasn't a moment of rationality that stopped me...it was, instead, the tears streaming down my face. Hell, I can't expose my soft side in public! :)
This day ended with a good outcome, partially because there always seems to be someone out there slapping me in the back of the head when I face moments like these, and partially because of the support system that surrounds me. If it were not for a great friend from Dallas and one man that cares more about people than making a shit ton of money, I am not sure where I would be or what would have happened. As far as my anger goes, it is something that I work on every day...to understand and control. And if you read this far, don't worry, it is highly unlikely that you will ever see me explode...most people haven't.
When a loved one is put into a potential dangerous and harmful situation, for me, there is nothing I wouldn't do. Literally. Although I can not go into any detail about the events, just take a moment to think about your worst fears coming true. And those fears directly affecting your best friend, the one person you love more than any thing in the world.
Anger is my achilles heal, which I will discuss more in another blog. It is typically my first response, my first reaction, if you will, to a situation in which a friend's well-being is threatened. I have battled with anger for the majority of my life. Let me define my anger for you. First, it is not linked in any way to frustration. Missing a lift is frustrating, cleaning up after people at work is frustrating, forgetting to dry your work clothes is frustrating. For me, anger is an emotion that occurs like the flip of a switch, some times resulting in irrational responses such as punching the closest inanimate object, to uncontrollable tears and trembling hands. Other times, clinching my jaw so much that it hurts the next day. The majority of the time, I get blind-sided by my anger. I am a very laid back person by nature, but when a certain button gets pushed repeatedly, I let it build up, although I have no feelings of it building up, and it ends in a grand explosion. It is all a very quick process. How long does it take your vehicle to go from zero to sixty? That is how my anger works.
For example, years back I was with three friends at a bar playing pool. Three chicks sat down at a table close to the pool table, and immediately started making rude comments about my friends. Granted we were an odd four-some...two of us in workout clothes and two in business suits, with an age difference of about 10-12 years. One chick would not stop with her comments, just loud enough for me to hear. Before anyone else knew what was going on, I threw my pool stick on the table, leaned down in her face, and asked her what the fuck her problem was. I told her to fucking stand up if she wanted to say anything else, and before I knew it her 5'4" boyfriend was in my face...or chest rather. Her boyfriend, the bouncer, told me to leave. I insulted her and her boyfriend a few more times, turned and punched the back of a chair, knocking almost everything on the table to the floor, and headed for the door. Once outside, I threw a handful of quarters into the parking lot and then drove home...cooling down on the way.
Last weekend my protective nature leading to an explosion of anger was exposed again. This time I had no control of the situation, and once I began to put the pieces together that lead to a very unexpected outcome, my car door paid the price. And then my tires, as I peeled out of the parking lot like some teenager showing off a newly discovered talent. During moments like this, my first thought is that beer will help. I actually went as far as to pull off at a gas station with the intention of purchasing beer. And it wasn't a moment of rationality that stopped me...it was, instead, the tears streaming down my face. Hell, I can't expose my soft side in public! :)
This day ended with a good outcome, partially because there always seems to be someone out there slapping me in the back of the head when I face moments like these, and partially because of the support system that surrounds me. If it were not for a great friend from Dallas and one man that cares more about people than making a shit ton of money, I am not sure where I would be or what would have happened. As far as my anger goes, it is something that I work on every day...to understand and control. And if you read this far, don't worry, it is highly unlikely that you will ever see me explode...most people haven't.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
The Continuous Battle
I began training a client about a month ago on the north side of town. For those of you familiar with San Antonio, it is up in Stone Oak. So, every tuesday and thursday morning, before the sun comes up, I drive on the quiet, dark roads to train, and then return home during the beginning of rush hour. Typically, on the return trip I am thinking about the day ahead and what I need to get done...as well as enjoying watching all of the tired, angry people headed to work.
Today, I don't know what was going through my head, but I started thinking about all of the drinking I used to do up there. I always pass by the store I used to work at which sits directly across from Stone Werks. I spent countless lunch breaks there and many evenings with friends running up a tab. SW also played a huge part in entertaining me and my co-workers at Office Depot. From finding people passed out in their cars, men dropping off their drunken hook-ups in the morning, to finding wedding rings in the parking lot, and having the resident drunks come into the store after happy hour.
On the other end of the shopping strip is a giant liquor store...they knew me by name. I knew them so well, in fact, that if my store ran out of one dollar bills at the register, I could always count on them to help me out. In the same strip center used to be a wine bar that denied my friends and I entry one late night, and an Applebee's that always had a good happy hour. Their food sucks but beer was always served in ice cold frosty mugs.
Just down the road is a brewery that serves brick oven pizza. You can not go wrong with that combination. They also serve $2 Lone Star sixteen ouncers. If your on a tight budget, you can't go wrong with the $5 lunch special and some Lone Star. Their in house beers are also fantastic.
Do I miss it? Unlike most recovering addicts, I truly don't. It probably helps that my life is finally heading in a good direction, and I don't feel the need to cover up my feelings anymore. The only time I do miss having an ice cold beer is after a really hot day of yard work or sweating my ass off at the gym...but even that is rare. I also don't mind being around people that are drinking. I am not bothered by it at all, nor do I sit there consumed by thoughts of drinking. I do occasionally wish I could enjoy one with a group of friends, but I know that would be a huge step in the wrong direction ...and quite possibly have serious consequences. Life is not worth that risk any more.
The risks that are worth taking is a continous pursuit of success and happiness...in my life, with my family, at work, and with lifting. Nothing is guaranteed in life, I could get hit by a car putting the trash out in the morning. But adding additional external factors, such as alcohol, only leads to failure and missed opportunities. This is by no means an anti-drinking blog, hell, I am all for people enjoying themselves! Instead, it is just more of a reminder to anyone that battles addiction...you will always face challenges, whether it be driving by your old hangouts or fighting off cravings. But face them head on, almost stubbornly, and fight like hell because life is way more important than an ice cold brew.
Today, I don't know what was going through my head, but I started thinking about all of the drinking I used to do up there. I always pass by the store I used to work at which sits directly across from Stone Werks. I spent countless lunch breaks there and many evenings with friends running up a tab. SW also played a huge part in entertaining me and my co-workers at Office Depot. From finding people passed out in their cars, men dropping off their drunken hook-ups in the morning, to finding wedding rings in the parking lot, and having the resident drunks come into the store after happy hour.
On the other end of the shopping strip is a giant liquor store...they knew me by name. I knew them so well, in fact, that if my store ran out of one dollar bills at the register, I could always count on them to help me out. In the same strip center used to be a wine bar that denied my friends and I entry one late night, and an Applebee's that always had a good happy hour. Their food sucks but beer was always served in ice cold frosty mugs.
Just down the road is a brewery that serves brick oven pizza. You can not go wrong with that combination. They also serve $2 Lone Star sixteen ouncers. If your on a tight budget, you can't go wrong with the $5 lunch special and some Lone Star. Their in house beers are also fantastic.
Do I miss it? Unlike most recovering addicts, I truly don't. It probably helps that my life is finally heading in a good direction, and I don't feel the need to cover up my feelings anymore. The only time I do miss having an ice cold beer is after a really hot day of yard work or sweating my ass off at the gym...but even that is rare. I also don't mind being around people that are drinking. I am not bothered by it at all, nor do I sit there consumed by thoughts of drinking. I do occasionally wish I could enjoy one with a group of friends, but I know that would be a huge step in the wrong direction ...and quite possibly have serious consequences. Life is not worth that risk any more.
The risks that are worth taking is a continous pursuit of success and happiness...in my life, with my family, at work, and with lifting. Nothing is guaranteed in life, I could get hit by a car putting the trash out in the morning. But adding additional external factors, such as alcohol, only leads to failure and missed opportunities. This is by no means an anti-drinking blog, hell, I am all for people enjoying themselves! Instead, it is just more of a reminder to anyone that battles addiction...you will always face challenges, whether it be driving by your old hangouts or fighting off cravings. But face them head on, almost stubbornly, and fight like hell because life is way more important than an ice cold brew.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Overlooked Evidence of Alcoholism
Every article published these days about alcoholism and/or alcoholics will give you a list of ways to recognize a person with addictive behavior. The one always listed that I particularly enjoy is "does this person drink two beverages to your one". Well, maybe you are just a slow drinker. Yes, it could be an indicator, but in real life situations there are people that sip on one drink for hours on end. To me, the former professional drunk, it would be better stated as, does this person drink four beverages to your one. Or does this person have a glass of vodka with a splash of soda to your one shot and soda, if they are a smart alcoholic, they would have vodka and "water" anyway. Better yet, why has this person gone to pee eight times and I have only gone once? Probably because they loaded up before coming out to the bar, and/or are sneaking shots and chugging other drinks.
What I am getting to, eventually, is the fact that most of the lists don't give the typical alcoholic enough credit; and with these lists you could easily accuse someone who is just letting off steam from a bad day. So, I offer you a better list, some might state the obvious, but the obvious is often overlooked in many situations; while others just might make you think.
1. When they open their car door, do beer cans fall out? My car was a mobile recycling center. Yes officer, I was just headed to recycle these cans and the bag busted open. Right. Those who occassionally leave the house with a drink in hand will almost always get rid of the evidence at first chance. Alcoholics (a) don't care/don't think they will get caught and (b) cleaning out the car everyday is a given that you are trying to hide something. I would typically have a minimum of 18 crushed cans hidden under a blanket on the back floorboard.
2. How many "mini" refrigerators can be found in their house? Every good alcoholic has one or more mini friges for convenience...the closer to the tv or beer pong table, the better.
3. Do the household animals sit at your feet when you hold a beverage instead of food? I had one dog that would sit at my feet until she got a sip, as well as a cat that could smell liquor a mile away and would stick her paw in the glass. A slight indication that these drinks are around alot.
4. How many debit or credit card transactions have the name of a liquor store or a convenience store for around $18-20 bucks? Convenience stores are the best cover because you could always be getting gas or picking up snacks. But check the amount on the transactions...are they all similar? And how many are there in a weeks time?
5. Does this person have a stack of "around the world" club cards for local bars and pubs? If a person opens their wallet and there is a stack behind their ID, you might be on to something. And why behind their ID? Convenience.
6. Is a cooler a permanent fixture in their car? Unless they are shipping body parts to the local hospital on a daily basis, what else is a permanent car cooler for?
7. Does this person frequently smell like they have eaten a whole onion or a clove of garlic? Many people use strong perfumes or cologne in attempt to cover up the smell of alcohol, amateurs. FYI, mints, candy, and gum are only good while they last. The professional will eat foods consisting of strong ingredients or seasoning. They last a lot longer, and come back every time you burp. Gross? Yes, but it works!
8. Is the kitchen pantry full of snack food, but the fridge is bare? Alcoholics will at some point lose their appetite for food. Their drink of choice becomes the food, but they will snack on various, usually salty items. Plus, the fridge is reserved for alcohol...duh.
9. When they shop at a warehouse store, such as Sam's or Costco, do they purchase trash bags, advil, and chips? Or like me, purchase six to eight cases of beer? I never really hid my problem with alcohol until the last year or so when it really got out of control, so someone with a basket full of beer is usually stocking up for a party. But with alcoholism come a shit load of empty containers, a lot of hangovers and annoying headaches, and as I mentioned earlier the need to snack on salty food.
10. Does this person have a better relationships with bartenders than friends? And not just at one restaurant or bar. In the places that I frequented, which stretched all over town, there would be an ice cold Miller Lite on the bar before I even sat down. Additionally, if the bartender delivers all of his/her mis-pours to this person...you might have identfied an alcoholic.
What I am getting to, eventually, is the fact that most of the lists don't give the typical alcoholic enough credit; and with these lists you could easily accuse someone who is just letting off steam from a bad day. So, I offer you a better list, some might state the obvious, but the obvious is often overlooked in many situations; while others just might make you think.
1. When they open their car door, do beer cans fall out? My car was a mobile recycling center. Yes officer, I was just headed to recycle these cans and the bag busted open. Right. Those who occassionally leave the house with a drink in hand will almost always get rid of the evidence at first chance. Alcoholics (a) don't care/don't think they will get caught and (b) cleaning out the car everyday is a given that you are trying to hide something. I would typically have a minimum of 18 crushed cans hidden under a blanket on the back floorboard.
2. How many "mini" refrigerators can be found in their house? Every good alcoholic has one or more mini friges for convenience...the closer to the tv or beer pong table, the better.
3. Do the household animals sit at your feet when you hold a beverage instead of food? I had one dog that would sit at my feet until she got a sip, as well as a cat that could smell liquor a mile away and would stick her paw in the glass. A slight indication that these drinks are around alot.
4. How many debit or credit card transactions have the name of a liquor store or a convenience store for around $18-20 bucks? Convenience stores are the best cover because you could always be getting gas or picking up snacks. But check the amount on the transactions...are they all similar? And how many are there in a weeks time?
5. Does this person have a stack of "around the world" club cards for local bars and pubs? If a person opens their wallet and there is a stack behind their ID, you might be on to something. And why behind their ID? Convenience.
6. Is a cooler a permanent fixture in their car? Unless they are shipping body parts to the local hospital on a daily basis, what else is a permanent car cooler for?
7. Does this person frequently smell like they have eaten a whole onion or a clove of garlic? Many people use strong perfumes or cologne in attempt to cover up the smell of alcohol, amateurs. FYI, mints, candy, and gum are only good while they last. The professional will eat foods consisting of strong ingredients or seasoning. They last a lot longer, and come back every time you burp. Gross? Yes, but it works!
8. Is the kitchen pantry full of snack food, but the fridge is bare? Alcoholics will at some point lose their appetite for food. Their drink of choice becomes the food, but they will snack on various, usually salty items. Plus, the fridge is reserved for alcohol...duh.
9. When they shop at a warehouse store, such as Sam's or Costco, do they purchase trash bags, advil, and chips? Or like me, purchase six to eight cases of beer? I never really hid my problem with alcohol until the last year or so when it really got out of control, so someone with a basket full of beer is usually stocking up for a party. But with alcoholism come a shit load of empty containers, a lot of hangovers and annoying headaches, and as I mentioned earlier the need to snack on salty food.
10. Does this person have a better relationships with bartenders than friends? And not just at one restaurant or bar. In the places that I frequented, which stretched all over town, there would be an ice cold Miller Lite on the bar before I even sat down. Additionally, if the bartender delivers all of his/her mis-pours to this person...you might have identfied an alcoholic.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Why Not Me?!
If there is one thing I truly believe in, it is that everything happens for a reason. Did I have a less than perfect childhood? Sure. Do I have a crappy squat? Definitely. Did I almost drink myself to death? Absolutely. But I am somehow still alive, constantly working to improve my squat, and striving daily to gain a better understanding of my life with and without alcohol. Now, is it possible for me to define that specific reason, for example, why I decided to give up alcohol cold turkey after so many years?! Nope, I don't have a damn clue...at least not yet. But I will keep you posted.
A little over a year and a half without a tall frosty mug, and I am still surprised and amazed when good things happen to me. I am also extremely thankful. Thankful to be alive, thankful to be given yet another shot at life, thankful for having people that never gave up on me and continue to support my progress, and thankful for each and every new day...even when the alarm goes off at 4am.
One of the most difficult things I have faced during my sobriety is learning how to live life again. And, honestly, I still struggle with it. From the early days of re-learning how to fuel my body, to developing goals, to dealing with all the "new" emotions that come with sobriety. And there are many times that I ask, why me, in the sense of why do I get a fresh start. There are a ton of people that fail miserably at trying to attain a successful life through sobriety. But some how, with the help of and encouragement from quite a few friends, my mindset is slowly changing to, why not me?! People believe in me and my capabilities, which in turn, have provided me the opportunity to learn to appreciate success and appreciate failure...because ultimately any failure only provides the fuel to create success. And with 20+ years full of drunken failures, thats a lot of fuel.
So why go through all the ups and downs, why fight for sobriety, why change my life at almost 40 years old? Besides the fact that I wasn't quite ready to be dropped into a six foot hole in the ground, and just being physically and mentally exhausted from keeping so much of me covered up, I really could not tell you the motivation behind my life changing decision. Was it a need to be successful again? Maybe. I have always had a strong internal drive which pushes me when I set my sights on something.
In the last month or so, I have been given several unexpected opportunities to pursue the things I truly love. I have spent countless blogs talking about my pursuits in lifting, and another one about the changes at work. But recently, I have been asked to start covering specific crossfit events as a blog writer. I also began training clients again. Additionally, I have been offered an opportunity to do more training at a new (opening soon) weight loss and wellness center. With all of the upcoming opportunities, it is time to accept that all of this has happened due to my fight to become...well, to become me. As a professional drunk, I would have squandered these opportunities one way or another; but I intend to put as much passion into these pursuits as I do my lifting. I believe these opportunities to be a once in a lifetime chance to be successful again. They exist for a specific reason, and all provided by people who believe in me. There is and can be success through sobriety. So spread the word to anyone you know that is fighting to regain life through sobriety, and tell them, why not you?!
A little over a year and a half without a tall frosty mug, and I am still surprised and amazed when good things happen to me. I am also extremely thankful. Thankful to be alive, thankful to be given yet another shot at life, thankful for having people that never gave up on me and continue to support my progress, and thankful for each and every new day...even when the alarm goes off at 4am.
One of the most difficult things I have faced during my sobriety is learning how to live life again. And, honestly, I still struggle with it. From the early days of re-learning how to fuel my body, to developing goals, to dealing with all the "new" emotions that come with sobriety. And there are many times that I ask, why me, in the sense of why do I get a fresh start. There are a ton of people that fail miserably at trying to attain a successful life through sobriety. But some how, with the help of and encouragement from quite a few friends, my mindset is slowly changing to, why not me?! People believe in me and my capabilities, which in turn, have provided me the opportunity to learn to appreciate success and appreciate failure...because ultimately any failure only provides the fuel to create success. And with 20+ years full of drunken failures, thats a lot of fuel.
So why go through all the ups and downs, why fight for sobriety, why change my life at almost 40 years old? Besides the fact that I wasn't quite ready to be dropped into a six foot hole in the ground, and just being physically and mentally exhausted from keeping so much of me covered up, I really could not tell you the motivation behind my life changing decision. Was it a need to be successful again? Maybe. I have always had a strong internal drive which pushes me when I set my sights on something.
In the last month or so, I have been given several unexpected opportunities to pursue the things I truly love. I have spent countless blogs talking about my pursuits in lifting, and another one about the changes at work. But recently, I have been asked to start covering specific crossfit events as a blog writer. I also began training clients again. Additionally, I have been offered an opportunity to do more training at a new (opening soon) weight loss and wellness center. With all of the upcoming opportunities, it is time to accept that all of this has happened due to my fight to become...well, to become me. As a professional drunk, I would have squandered these opportunities one way or another; but I intend to put as much passion into these pursuits as I do my lifting. I believe these opportunities to be a once in a lifetime chance to be successful again. They exist for a specific reason, and all provided by people who believe in me. There is and can be success through sobriety. So spread the word to anyone you know that is fighting to regain life through sobriety, and tell them, why not you?!
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Slacker
Let me go ahead and tell you the ending to this blog...when your job becomes work, it is time to move on. I am lucky enough to be able to work part-time with a good retail company. And by part time, I mean 30+ very flexible hours doing manual labor. I am well respected for what I do, and will be one of the first people called when a store needs assistance with any type of physical labor or cleaning up a receiving area, including vendor returns.
Almost two months ago, I chose to leave the store two minutes from my house and transfer to one on the south-side. I have to get up earlier, drive further, and do a lot more work on a daily basis. And, I know, some people would say, you must be a glutton for punishment. When in fact, I guess in some ways I am; but the main reason I did was to enjoy working again.
There are one million and one different types of managers in the retail world. From the ones who sit on their ass in the back office, to the hands on, to the delegaters, to the ones who have no control over their employees. I have been extremely lucky, due to the fact that Office Depot rotates managers fairly frequently, and have, for the most part, worked with really good ones. There is always that one exception, but she was just a horrible human being put into a position of authority under false pretenses...but I digress.
At my last store, I was slowly losing motivation to bust my ass day in and day out. For me, it was hard to get up in the morning to go do the same thing over and over again...clean up everyone elses crap. And at the same time, get behind on the things that really needed to be done. In my last weeks leading up to my transfer, I was working the least amount of hours possible...just to get the basics done and get out. If you know me, this is not at all how I operate. I will stay extra hours in order to complete things in a timely manner. I will work split shifts if necessary as well as overnights. Last year for inventory, I counted almost every item in our overstock...because I wanted it to be as accurate as possible and I could get it done quickly.
Since my transfer, I have found that passion, that work ethic which I am known for. My job is fun again and I don't see it as a job or work. It is what I do to make one location and its manager function more efficiently...and take un-needed stress off the management team. And it always helps when they tell you how happy they are that you are there. I love my job! And the bossman that has stuck with me through thick and thin...aka when I first stopped drinking...well, I kinda like him too. I gave him plenty of chances to throw in the towel on me, but he never did. He believed in me and in return, I bust my ass for him. I guess you could call it....respect.
Almost two months ago, I chose to leave the store two minutes from my house and transfer to one on the south-side. I have to get up earlier, drive further, and do a lot more work on a daily basis. And, I know, some people would say, you must be a glutton for punishment. When in fact, I guess in some ways I am; but the main reason I did was to enjoy working again.
There are one million and one different types of managers in the retail world. From the ones who sit on their ass in the back office, to the hands on, to the delegaters, to the ones who have no control over their employees. I have been extremely lucky, due to the fact that Office Depot rotates managers fairly frequently, and have, for the most part, worked with really good ones. There is always that one exception, but she was just a horrible human being put into a position of authority under false pretenses...but I digress.
At my last store, I was slowly losing motivation to bust my ass day in and day out. For me, it was hard to get up in the morning to go do the same thing over and over again...clean up everyone elses crap. And at the same time, get behind on the things that really needed to be done. In my last weeks leading up to my transfer, I was working the least amount of hours possible...just to get the basics done and get out. If you know me, this is not at all how I operate. I will stay extra hours in order to complete things in a timely manner. I will work split shifts if necessary as well as overnights. Last year for inventory, I counted almost every item in our overstock...because I wanted it to be as accurate as possible and I could get it done quickly.
Since my transfer, I have found that passion, that work ethic which I am known for. My job is fun again and I don't see it as a job or work. It is what I do to make one location and its manager function more efficiently...and take un-needed stress off the management team. And it always helps when they tell you how happy they are that you are there. I love my job! And the bossman that has stuck with me through thick and thin...aka when I first stopped drinking...well, I kinda like him too. I gave him plenty of chances to throw in the towel on me, but he never did. He believed in me and in return, I bust my ass for him. I guess you could call it....respect.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Think??
There have been so many blogs, stories, and videos pertaining to fitness and qualified/under-qualified coaches and trainers. My response is simply...do your damn homework! Try it out before you commit and use some common sense...all of it if you are lacking in that area. And for the love of all things...ask questions. In my opinion, if you fail to do these things, then you are responsible for what happens. And if you choose to continue in that environment, and get injured...that is also your responsibility.
A CrossFit L1 certification is just an expensive piece of paper. The same can be said for the certifications held by globo gym trainers. That piece of paper doesn't mean they know jack about teaching specific movements, nutrition, or even how to use the equipment in their own gym. I will be the first to tell you that I am not the best choice for nutrition advice...unless you want to know about cookies and Big Red. And I can definitely help you pick out a good cigar. Oh, and did I mention that I have a CrossFit nutrition certification. Did I make my point?!
Here is a solid piece of advise...if you are new to training or a specific sport, and you walk away after one session having learned absolutely nothing...move on. If you walk away with a whole bunch of questions, then you missed a key part of the first paragraph above. If you happen to be the person that joins a gym because your friends think it is cool, then you are on your own...you have other problems to worry about. But if you leave wanting to learn more, then you probably found what you are looking for.
As far as injuries go, guess what, shit happens. You could break your toe walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night. You could injure your rotator cuff in a battle over cheap socks on Black Friday. Hell, something could fall out of the sky and crack you on the head. So don't be surprised or point fingers at someone else, for that matter, when you pull a muscle exercising. No one ever wants to get injured, but if you are serious about working out or fitness in general...the bottom line is, it is going to happen. If you pull your hamstring on the way to the fridge during a commercial of your favorite television program, who are you going to blame for that...the people on tv?
Summary: If a trainer or coach is good at what they do, they will show you...they will teach you.
A CrossFit L1 certification is just an expensive piece of paper. The same can be said for the certifications held by globo gym trainers. That piece of paper doesn't mean they know jack about teaching specific movements, nutrition, or even how to use the equipment in their own gym. I will be the first to tell you that I am not the best choice for nutrition advice...unless you want to know about cookies and Big Red. And I can definitely help you pick out a good cigar. Oh, and did I mention that I have a CrossFit nutrition certification. Did I make my point?!
Here is a solid piece of advise...if you are new to training or a specific sport, and you walk away after one session having learned absolutely nothing...move on. If you walk away with a whole bunch of questions, then you missed a key part of the first paragraph above. If you happen to be the person that joins a gym because your friends think it is cool, then you are on your own...you have other problems to worry about. But if you leave wanting to learn more, then you probably found what you are looking for.
As far as injuries go, guess what, shit happens. You could break your toe walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night. You could injure your rotator cuff in a battle over cheap socks on Black Friday. Hell, something could fall out of the sky and crack you on the head. So don't be surprised or point fingers at someone else, for that matter, when you pull a muscle exercising. No one ever wants to get injured, but if you are serious about working out or fitness in general...the bottom line is, it is going to happen. If you pull your hamstring on the way to the fridge during a commercial of your favorite television program, who are you going to blame for that...the people on tv?
Summary: If a trainer or coach is good at what they do, they will show you...they will teach you.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
History: Part 2
Due to years and years of drinking, there are a lot of parts of my childhood that have either temporarily or permanently disappeared from my memory. I may stumble on a picture and recall the events that took place, or a dream might bring back some forgotten moment in time. But otherwise, I remember the negative parts of my family life, and believe it or not a lot of my completely obliterated moments. My assumption is that when you spend most of your time drunk, you are inevitably going to remember quite a bit of it.
Right around the years that I began to explore the world with a buzz, one of my most negative and unforgiving moments occurred. It also led to an increased volume in drinking. I was still a few years shy of becoming a teenager, and spent my Saturday mornings as any child would...in front of the television watching cartoons. I can even remember that I was laying in front of the tv on my left side with my head propped up in my hand. My mom had been on my case all morning about taking some left over Christmas boxes to the storage shed out back of our house. "In a minute, mom."...the infamous catch phrase that typically ended in an arguement or excessive sreaming match. Things quieted down and I continued with my saturday morning entertainment.
Several minutes later, I heard a faint cry for help. I went to the back door to find my mom sitting in the grass, angry and in tears. She told me to go find help. I went to the neighbors house and found their yard guy. He followed me to the back yard and subsequently called an ambulance as well as my dad. Both arrived at the house right around the same time and my dad and I followed the ambulance to the hospital. I don't remember anything about the car ride except for my dad running red lights.
My mom had decided to take one of the boxes out to the shed. She stepped in a rather deep hole in the back yard and literally crushed her ankle. In surgery, the doctor said the bone fell out like saw dust...quite an image for a kid. Six screws, two pins, and a steel plate later it was rebuilt. The horrifying screams from the emergency room still ring in my ears.
It is a moment in life I will never forget...and wasn't allowed to. Everyone in my family blamed me for the accident. "Why didn't YOU take the boxes to the shed?"...or "if you had just done what your mother told you to do". And, in turn, I was very unforgiving to myself. I spent my mom's recovery time catering to her every need as well as drinking whatever I could get my hands on.
"This would have never happened if it wasn't for you."
It would not be the last time I heard that phrase, which turned into a "you owe me for life" understanding within the walls of my house. For all the physical pain I had caused, it would be returned time and time again in the form of mental pain. And drinking allowed me to be happy.
Right around the years that I began to explore the world with a buzz, one of my most negative and unforgiving moments occurred. It also led to an increased volume in drinking. I was still a few years shy of becoming a teenager, and spent my Saturday mornings as any child would...in front of the television watching cartoons. I can even remember that I was laying in front of the tv on my left side with my head propped up in my hand. My mom had been on my case all morning about taking some left over Christmas boxes to the storage shed out back of our house. "In a minute, mom."...the infamous catch phrase that typically ended in an arguement or excessive sreaming match. Things quieted down and I continued with my saturday morning entertainment.
Several minutes later, I heard a faint cry for help. I went to the back door to find my mom sitting in the grass, angry and in tears. She told me to go find help. I went to the neighbors house and found their yard guy. He followed me to the back yard and subsequently called an ambulance as well as my dad. Both arrived at the house right around the same time and my dad and I followed the ambulance to the hospital. I don't remember anything about the car ride except for my dad running red lights.
My mom had decided to take one of the boxes out to the shed. She stepped in a rather deep hole in the back yard and literally crushed her ankle. In surgery, the doctor said the bone fell out like saw dust...quite an image for a kid. Six screws, two pins, and a steel plate later it was rebuilt. The horrifying screams from the emergency room still ring in my ears.
It is a moment in life I will never forget...and wasn't allowed to. Everyone in my family blamed me for the accident. "Why didn't YOU take the boxes to the shed?"...or "if you had just done what your mother told you to do". And, in turn, I was very unforgiving to myself. I spent my mom's recovery time catering to her every need as well as drinking whatever I could get my hands on.
"This would have never happened if it wasn't for you."
It would not be the last time I heard that phrase, which turned into a "you owe me for life" understanding within the walls of my house. For all the physical pain I had caused, it would be returned time and time again in the form of mental pain. And drinking allowed me to be happy.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Out of Retirement
I am freakin' exhausted from two consecutive weekends of competition, travel days, and long days of work inbetween. I sure don't bounce back like I used to! So yesterday, for one single day, I came out of retirment to compete with a few long time CrossFit friends at the Alamo City Throwdown. The last time I competed was at regionals in 2010. And the last time I did a WOD at a CrossFit gym was well over a year ago...and 50lbs heavier...and probably drunk.
The Throwdown consisted of three team workouts and an individual two minute max effort workout. Our day began at 8:45am with the two minute max WOD where each team member was randomly assigned one of three movements. There was a one legged burpee over a bar, backward jump rope (singles), and my two minutes landed me on the bike. There was a sixty second transition period between teams, which went so fast, I forgot to adjust my bike. So for two minutes, I racked up 32 calories on a bike in which I could barely reach the pedals. My bad! Next to me, my teammate Art pedaled well into the 60s. It was a good warm-up for sure.
Our first team WOD was approximately an hour later. For the first portion, the three men shared a bar to reach a max snatch and the women shared a tiny 35lb bella bar to max out on the clean and jerk. I have to say going from training with an axle to lifting with a bella was not ideal. We started with a weight of 105lbs and increased five pounds after each lift. Once you were at failure, you were out and could not assist in loading/unloading. There was also a ten minute time cap. Erica went first and completed a 130lb lift...a 15lb PR. Misty hit 140lbs. And I was left with time to hit 150lbs. I failed at 155 with seconds remaining, and my rushed jerk got tossed straight over my head.
The second portion consisted of three people doing alternating kettlebell snatches and three doing burpee pull-ups. Since the kettlebell was a "hefty" 35lbs, I opted for that movement. Each person had to complete reps beginning with one and go up one each round. My team ended with 10 complete reps each and got almost halfway into the round of 11. It was by far the most fun WOD of the day.
The "Cuatros" were next. Each movement was a four minute max effort, alternating four reps at a time with a partner. I have to give my partner Q mad props for getting me through this WOD. He was non-stop and never dropped the bar on the back squat, so I was determined to match him. We started on hand release push-ups and killed it. The light back squat was next, and I have never wanted four minutes of my life to end quicker. It was more of a mental challenge to keep the bar on your back than to actually squat...and my shoulders were on fire from the push-ups. The third station was toes to bar. Epic fail on my part. Q was still killing it, but after two sets of four, I was down to doing singles and had no kip to help me out. The final station was a team shuttle run. With some solid runners on our team, not me, we got through 3-4 sprints each.
The final WOD of the day started with a one mile time trial. I was actually hoping to get hit by one of the semi's traveling up and down the main road. I couldn't even tell you the last time I ran a mile. But I pushed through it and we finished the day with 20 deadlifts, a 40ft lunge with the bar on your back, and 20 rack to overhead. I honestly thought I would roll the final 20 presses but had to pause with 5 reps left. Erica finished off the last set and we were done!!
My team, the Scalenators, finished in twenty something place, and I could not be happier with the determination and competitive fire that my team showed. It was an absolute pleasure to compete with Erica and Art again! Meet two newer crossfitters, Misty and Mike. And the last minute addition of Q made our team complete! On a side note, I was there the day that both Art and Q started CrossFit...and they have both made huge strides in the time since. It was a great day with friends, catching up with all of the old skool crossfitters, and best of all...it was a FUN event!!!
The Throwdown consisted of three team workouts and an individual two minute max effort workout. Our day began at 8:45am with the two minute max WOD where each team member was randomly assigned one of three movements. There was a one legged burpee over a bar, backward jump rope (singles), and my two minutes landed me on the bike. There was a sixty second transition period between teams, which went so fast, I forgot to adjust my bike. So for two minutes, I racked up 32 calories on a bike in which I could barely reach the pedals. My bad! Next to me, my teammate Art pedaled well into the 60s. It was a good warm-up for sure.
Our first team WOD was approximately an hour later. For the first portion, the three men shared a bar to reach a max snatch and the women shared a tiny 35lb bella bar to max out on the clean and jerk. I have to say going from training with an axle to lifting with a bella was not ideal. We started with a weight of 105lbs and increased five pounds after each lift. Once you were at failure, you were out and could not assist in loading/unloading. There was also a ten minute time cap. Erica went first and completed a 130lb lift...a 15lb PR. Misty hit 140lbs. And I was left with time to hit 150lbs. I failed at 155 with seconds remaining, and my rushed jerk got tossed straight over my head.
The second portion consisted of three people doing alternating kettlebell snatches and three doing burpee pull-ups. Since the kettlebell was a "hefty" 35lbs, I opted for that movement. Each person had to complete reps beginning with one and go up one each round. My team ended with 10 complete reps each and got almost halfway into the round of 11. It was by far the most fun WOD of the day.
The "Cuatros" were next. Each movement was a four minute max effort, alternating four reps at a time with a partner. I have to give my partner Q mad props for getting me through this WOD. He was non-stop and never dropped the bar on the back squat, so I was determined to match him. We started on hand release push-ups and killed it. The light back squat was next, and I have never wanted four minutes of my life to end quicker. It was more of a mental challenge to keep the bar on your back than to actually squat...and my shoulders were on fire from the push-ups. The third station was toes to bar. Epic fail on my part. Q was still killing it, but after two sets of four, I was down to doing singles and had no kip to help me out. The final station was a team shuttle run. With some solid runners on our team, not me, we got through 3-4 sprints each.
The final WOD of the day started with a one mile time trial. I was actually hoping to get hit by one of the semi's traveling up and down the main road. I couldn't even tell you the last time I ran a mile. But I pushed through it and we finished the day with 20 deadlifts, a 40ft lunge with the bar on your back, and 20 rack to overhead. I honestly thought I would roll the final 20 presses but had to pause with 5 reps left. Erica finished off the last set and we were done!!
My team, the Scalenators, finished in twenty something place, and I could not be happier with the determination and competitive fire that my team showed. It was an absolute pleasure to compete with Erica and Art again! Meet two newer crossfitters, Misty and Mike. And the last minute addition of Q made our team complete! On a side note, I was there the day that both Art and Q started CrossFit...and they have both made huge strides in the time since. It was a great day with friends, catching up with all of the old skool crossfitters, and best of all...it was a FUN event!!!
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Nutshell
Since I have added a lot of new people to my facebook and have new blog readers, I figured a short recap was appropriate. I post a lot about powerlifting, strongman, my past life as a crossfitter, and my life as an alcoholic. I am very open and honest about my addiction issues, and do not want to scare or suprise anyone by those particular blogs. It was a large part of my life that I still battle with and I know there are quite a few people that only know me as a strongman or powerlifting competitor. So, here in a nutshell is...well, me!
1980's: introduced to alcohol in grade school; a few drinks on the weekends quickly turned into daily consumption and getting obliterated on the weekends; I chose alcohol to "deal with" family issues, imperfections, and cover up feelings and emotions.
1990's: I was drinking bottles of vodka at a time...and not the airplane size bottles. It was in the late '90's that I switched to beer, or should say added beer. But at this point in my life, I did start taking my athletic career a little more serious and took breaks from drinking during basketball season and during the summer months that I worked for the Girl Scouts.
2000's: My drinking got worse as I began my coaching career and experienced several failed relatioships, as well as dealing with increasingly difficult family issues. I found CrossFit in 2008, and with that I also found of bunch of partiers. I would workout drunk or with a good buzz more times than not. And weekends were one long party in which I didn't begin to sober up until monday afternoon.
2011: I began having health issues because of my excessive drinking, but ignored it and kept going with my professional drinking career. By this time, my drinking included a minimum of thirty beers a day and either vodka or rum. I could kill a large bottle of either in a day easy, and still drink beer. In October, I started to hit bottom with my drinking. My body was literally rejecting alcohol, but still I continued. I started drinking almost 24 hours a day in order to keep a buzz. I quit Crossfit completely and in three years went from a 160lb athlete to a 215lb sloth.
2012: I woke up one morning in March and said "I'm done". I quit cold turkey. I also began counseling to deal with the 20+ years of drinking cover-ups. I started lifting again in late summer and found a great trainer in October. My first powerlifting meet was in December and my first strongman comp in March 2013.
And as they say, the rest is history. I am back to being a 155lb athlete, and a much happier sober person...just living life one day at a time!
1980's: introduced to alcohol in grade school; a few drinks on the weekends quickly turned into daily consumption and getting obliterated on the weekends; I chose alcohol to "deal with" family issues, imperfections, and cover up feelings and emotions.
1990's: I was drinking bottles of vodka at a time...and not the airplane size bottles. It was in the late '90's that I switched to beer, or should say added beer. But at this point in my life, I did start taking my athletic career a little more serious and took breaks from drinking during basketball season and during the summer months that I worked for the Girl Scouts.
2000's: My drinking got worse as I began my coaching career and experienced several failed relatioships, as well as dealing with increasingly difficult family issues. I found CrossFit in 2008, and with that I also found of bunch of partiers. I would workout drunk or with a good buzz more times than not. And weekends were one long party in which I didn't begin to sober up until monday afternoon.
2011: I began having health issues because of my excessive drinking, but ignored it and kept going with my professional drinking career. By this time, my drinking included a minimum of thirty beers a day and either vodka or rum. I could kill a large bottle of either in a day easy, and still drink beer. In October, I started to hit bottom with my drinking. My body was literally rejecting alcohol, but still I continued. I started drinking almost 24 hours a day in order to keep a buzz. I quit Crossfit completely and in three years went from a 160lb athlete to a 215lb sloth.
2012: I woke up one morning in March and said "I'm done". I quit cold turkey. I also began counseling to deal with the 20+ years of drinking cover-ups. I started lifting again in late summer and found a great trainer in October. My first powerlifting meet was in December and my first strongman comp in March 2013.
And as they say, the rest is history. I am back to being a 155lb athlete, and a much happier sober person...just living life one day at a time!
Sunday, October 20, 2013
America's Strongest Woman: Day 2
Day two kicked off at 10am, originally scheduled for an 8am start, under cloudless skies but with a cold breeze that cut straight through my bright pink shirt. Most athletes arrived by 9:15 and began warming up for the first event, the yoke. With the announcement that the women would compete after the men's heats, the women then warmed up again at around 10:15. The yoke was slightly lighter than originally planned, but my quad refused to participate in this event. The pick up was easy and felt a lot lighter than my practice runs, but I was unable to make it the length of the course. I did get some distance which at least added a few points to my total.
The second event of the day was the press medley. Four implements: the axle, the log, a circus dumbbell (an oversized dumbbell with a huge grip), and a keg had to go from ground to overhead one time each, in any order. During the warm-up, I picked up a keg and realized that it was loaded with sand instead of water, which makes the lift slightly more difficult. The axle was not an issue and the logs were the same ones I used in a previous contest, so I decided to save my strength with those. But, a huge mistake I made was not picking up the dumbbell. I have never worked with one of those and should have made a few attempts with the light ones.
I started my medley with the axle and immediately noticed that it was lighter than originally planned, so it was an easy lift. For my next attempt, my plan was to tackle the keg, but for some unknown reason my judge pointed to the dumbbell and said that I must go around. So after several failed attempts, I moved to the log which again he pointed to, and with one failed attempt, time expired before I even got my hands on the keg. I allowed myself to get so distracted by the judge's incorrect interpretation of the rules, that I did not stay focused on the task at hand. I ended with one completed lift, and the time I spent arguing with the judge cost me one if not two other lifts.
The final event of the day and the end of the competition was, of course, the atlas stones. Three stones of increasing weight were lined up fifteen feet from the bar, and all had to be carried to then loaded over the bar. A lot of competitors had issues with tacky because of the cold weather, and some even complained about dirt on the stones. Never the less, a lot of the women completed all three stones in less than thirty seconds. I loaded two stones rather quickly, then took the final 200lb stone 15ft, and in four attempts was not able to get enough leg drive to get it over the bar. Game, set, and match. America's Strongest Woman 2013 was in the books.
The evening was filled with athletes throwing back drinks and shots at Smitty's while waiting for the announcement of the final standings. The host bar/grill also provided a buffet full of fajitas. The top three in each weight class received plaques and prizes, pro-cards were handed out, as well as medals for those that qualified for the Arnold.
My first time participating in America's Strongest Woman will not be my last. I had a great time, got a better grasp on what it will take to be a top level competitor, and best of all got to meet some top notch athletes and catch up with others. AND I survived.
The second event of the day was the press medley. Four implements: the axle, the log, a circus dumbbell (an oversized dumbbell with a huge grip), and a keg had to go from ground to overhead one time each, in any order. During the warm-up, I picked up a keg and realized that it was loaded with sand instead of water, which makes the lift slightly more difficult. The axle was not an issue and the logs were the same ones I used in a previous contest, so I decided to save my strength with those. But, a huge mistake I made was not picking up the dumbbell. I have never worked with one of those and should have made a few attempts with the light ones.
I started my medley with the axle and immediately noticed that it was lighter than originally planned, so it was an easy lift. For my next attempt, my plan was to tackle the keg, but for some unknown reason my judge pointed to the dumbbell and said that I must go around. So after several failed attempts, I moved to the log which again he pointed to, and with one failed attempt, time expired before I even got my hands on the keg. I allowed myself to get so distracted by the judge's incorrect interpretation of the rules, that I did not stay focused on the task at hand. I ended with one completed lift, and the time I spent arguing with the judge cost me one if not two other lifts.
The final event of the day and the end of the competition was, of course, the atlas stones. Three stones of increasing weight were lined up fifteen feet from the bar, and all had to be carried to then loaded over the bar. A lot of competitors had issues with tacky because of the cold weather, and some even complained about dirt on the stones. Never the less, a lot of the women completed all three stones in less than thirty seconds. I loaded two stones rather quickly, then took the final 200lb stone 15ft, and in four attempts was not able to get enough leg drive to get it over the bar. Game, set, and match. America's Strongest Woman 2013 was in the books.
The evening was filled with athletes throwing back drinks and shots at Smitty's while waiting for the announcement of the final standings. The host bar/grill also provided a buffet full of fajitas. The top three in each weight class received plaques and prizes, pro-cards were handed out, as well as medals for those that qualified for the Arnold.
My first time participating in America's Strongest Woman will not be my last. I had a great time, got a better grasp on what it will take to be a top level competitor, and best of all got to meet some top notch athletes and catch up with others. AND I survived.
Friday, October 18, 2013
America's Strongest Woman: Day 1
Well, here we are in small town Texas. Almost 200 strongmen and women have gathered in Denison, (a town you would never know about unless you live here or are on your way to Oklahoma), to battle it out in a best of the best competition. Yesterday, all the athletes rotated through the official weigh-in, most of the men covered in layers of sweats in order to drop those last few pounds and carrying jugs of gatorade to rehydrate; picked up the Easter egg colored competition t-shirts; and attended a rules meeting in which the event start time changed yet again. Speaking of which, I am not really even sure when we start tomorrow. After being jammed into a shoe box sized room for an hour, most people lined up outside in the cold to get their height on the yoke, while some of us split for dinner.
The competition kicked off this morning with a group picture of pink and purple clad athletes, fans being asked to exit the event in order to pay $5 and re-enter, and finally Event #1, the axle clean and press away. There were four bars set across the fence line facing the fans loaded with 135 for the light weights, 150 for the middle, and 185 for the heavy weights. Personally, my goal was to get five reps, but I had trouble maintaining control at the top of my press and ended with only two.
Event #2 was the frame carry. The light and middle weights shared the same frame and almost all of the athletes completed the forty feet without a drop. Including the two heats, one of which was mine, that also had to beat the elements, a short rain shower. Event #3 was a slightly altered deadlift event. The light and middle weights lifted 275 and 300lb axle bars while the heavy weights returned to the frame for deadlifts. I am not sure what happened to the original car deadlift event, but after watching the men struggle with the cars, I am perfectly ok with the axle bar.
Day 1 ended with a brutal medley. Three kegs were lined up at different distances along the forty-ish foot course. All three kegs had to be hauled to an oversized metal wheel barrow, loaded, and then hauled together back to the starting point. The final kegs were heavier than originally planned and a lot of women were unable to load them...including myself. I have never in my life attempted to haul or load a 200lb keg and that shit was heavy. In fact, on my first pick up attempt, I almost dropped it straight back down on my foot.
All in all, I may be sitting near the bottom of the middle weights, but I have had an incredible day being a part of this competition. Simply being able to watch some of these athletes compete is motivation to continue training and come back bigger and better. And I have enjoyed hanging out, laughing and joking with my Cali competitors as well as meeting new ones. Bring on day 2!!!!
The competition kicked off this morning with a group picture of pink and purple clad athletes, fans being asked to exit the event in order to pay $5 and re-enter, and finally Event #1, the axle clean and press away. There were four bars set across the fence line facing the fans loaded with 135 for the light weights, 150 for the middle, and 185 for the heavy weights. Personally, my goal was to get five reps, but I had trouble maintaining control at the top of my press and ended with only two.
Event #2 was the frame carry. The light and middle weights shared the same frame and almost all of the athletes completed the forty feet without a drop. Including the two heats, one of which was mine, that also had to beat the elements, a short rain shower. Event #3 was a slightly altered deadlift event. The light and middle weights lifted 275 and 300lb axle bars while the heavy weights returned to the frame for deadlifts. I am not sure what happened to the original car deadlift event, but after watching the men struggle with the cars, I am perfectly ok with the axle bar.
Day 1 ended with a brutal medley. Three kegs were lined up at different distances along the forty-ish foot course. All three kegs had to be hauled to an oversized metal wheel barrow, loaded, and then hauled together back to the starting point. The final kegs were heavier than originally planned and a lot of women were unable to load them...including myself. I have never in my life attempted to haul or load a 200lb keg and that shit was heavy. In fact, on my first pick up attempt, I almost dropped it straight back down on my foot.
All in all, I may be sitting near the bottom of the middle weights, but I have had an incredible day being a part of this competition. Simply being able to watch some of these athletes compete is motivation to continue training and come back bigger and better. And I have enjoyed hanging out, laughing and joking with my Cali competitors as well as meeting new ones. Bring on day 2!!!!
Monday, October 14, 2013
Inspiration
This weekend when I am competing in America's Strongest Woman, it will be exactly one year that I made a life changing decision. About four or five months after I quit drinking, I decided to try and get my big 215lb ass back in shape. I began with simple rowing workouts early in the morning before work. Since I was dealing with a lot of anger issues at the time, I also put my punching bag to good use...usually after work. I immediately dropped about 10lbs as a result of simply giving up beer and alcohol...mixed with a little bit of cardio.
It wasn't long before the early morning rowing got old. I needed something different, so I began to clean up the garage and dust off all my gym equipment. I was quite apprehensive about lifting again because I knew how much strength I had lost in the last year alone; especially in my legs, since I had stopped squatting several years prior following some recurring injuries. My first week consisted of fairly light weight and lots of reps. I soon built back up to a 135lb bench and a 225lb deadlift...not exciting numbers but a starting point none the less. About a month and a half into lifting, I thought to myself, where am I trying to go with this? I really had no desire to return to CrossFit, but loved to lift heavy, so I began to research the sport of powerlifting. Squatting was still not on my "to do" list...air squats alone caused pain. But focusing on training a heavy bench and deadlift, well, I could definitely do that.
Both my bench and deadlift were progressing little by little, but I knew if I ever wanted to compete, I would need help. So, one afternoon I sat down at the computer and began searching for knowledgeable trainers in San Antonio. I read dozens of profiles and had no interest in any of the young bucks claiming to know more than the other about lifting. Since I have no patience what so ever, I began to watch videos on youtube...what can I say, I was bored. I ran across a World's Strongest Woman video and it occurred to me that the 2x champion had once lived in town. I went back to my search and found her website and contact information...and wouldn't you know it, she was still training here in town. I fired off an e-mail to her about training, sat back in my chair, and thought...oh shit, what did I just do?!?! I talked myself into the fact that she probably wouldn't respond to an old ass has-been anyway. Not to long later, she responded. Well, double shit.
In a matter of no time, my first session was scheduled at Olympic Gym. Now, I just had to figure out what the hell I was going to say to the 2x World's Strongest Woman. Hi, I used to be a drunk crossfitter came to mind, or I was a three sport collegiate athlete that can't squat for shit...yes, the list goes on. As the day approached, I was anxious, nervous, but excited about learning to lift again. The meeting went well and I went home with new knowledge, that my lifts sucked ass, a lot of soreness, and a new trainer.
A year later, with Jill Mills as my coach and inspiration, I have done what I thought was virtually impossible. I have lost a shit ton of weight, I have learned correct lifting techniques that do not cause pain, I have become stronger mentally and physically, and have become a powerlifting and strongwoman competitor. For the record, I didn't say I was great at these sports...just one who likes to compete. The nearly impossible task of turning a 2x has-been into a competitor again could have only been accomplished by one person...a 2x World's Strongest Woman. Every training session continues to bring new challenges and new expectations. And with Jill as my coach, the possibilities are endless. My goal is simple...continue to improve and meet all the challenges, one by one.
A year ago, I was at a crossroads in my life. Constantly debating whether to continue lifting or go back to life with alcohol. The latter is no longer even a possibility, and I truly look forward to another year with Jill as my coach and what it will bring. Besides the soreness...I can do with a little less of that. :))
I thank you Jill for all of your support and belief in me, as a coach...and a friend!...even when I didn't quite believe in myself.
It wasn't long before the early morning rowing got old. I needed something different, so I began to clean up the garage and dust off all my gym equipment. I was quite apprehensive about lifting again because I knew how much strength I had lost in the last year alone; especially in my legs, since I had stopped squatting several years prior following some recurring injuries. My first week consisted of fairly light weight and lots of reps. I soon built back up to a 135lb bench and a 225lb deadlift...not exciting numbers but a starting point none the less. About a month and a half into lifting, I thought to myself, where am I trying to go with this? I really had no desire to return to CrossFit, but loved to lift heavy, so I began to research the sport of powerlifting. Squatting was still not on my "to do" list...air squats alone caused pain. But focusing on training a heavy bench and deadlift, well, I could definitely do that.
Both my bench and deadlift were progressing little by little, but I knew if I ever wanted to compete, I would need help. So, one afternoon I sat down at the computer and began searching for knowledgeable trainers in San Antonio. I read dozens of profiles and had no interest in any of the young bucks claiming to know more than the other about lifting. Since I have no patience what so ever, I began to watch videos on youtube...what can I say, I was bored. I ran across a World's Strongest Woman video and it occurred to me that the 2x champion had once lived in town. I went back to my search and found her website and contact information...and wouldn't you know it, she was still training here in town. I fired off an e-mail to her about training, sat back in my chair, and thought...oh shit, what did I just do?!?! I talked myself into the fact that she probably wouldn't respond to an old ass has-been anyway. Not to long later, she responded. Well, double shit.
In a matter of no time, my first session was scheduled at Olympic Gym. Now, I just had to figure out what the hell I was going to say to the 2x World's Strongest Woman. Hi, I used to be a drunk crossfitter came to mind, or I was a three sport collegiate athlete that can't squat for shit...yes, the list goes on. As the day approached, I was anxious, nervous, but excited about learning to lift again. The meeting went well and I went home with new knowledge, that my lifts sucked ass, a lot of soreness, and a new trainer.
A year later, with Jill Mills as my coach and inspiration, I have done what I thought was virtually impossible. I have lost a shit ton of weight, I have learned correct lifting techniques that do not cause pain, I have become stronger mentally and physically, and have become a powerlifting and strongwoman competitor. For the record, I didn't say I was great at these sports...just one who likes to compete. The nearly impossible task of turning a 2x has-been into a competitor again could have only been accomplished by one person...a 2x World's Strongest Woman. Every training session continues to bring new challenges and new expectations. And with Jill as my coach, the possibilities are endless. My goal is simple...continue to improve and meet all the challenges, one by one.
A year ago, I was at a crossroads in my life. Constantly debating whether to continue lifting or go back to life with alcohol. The latter is no longer even a possibility, and I truly look forward to another year with Jill as my coach and what it will bring. Besides the soreness...I can do with a little less of that. :))
I thank you Jill for all of your support and belief in me, as a coach...and a friend!...even when I didn't quite believe in myself.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
the Girl Scouts
I can hear it now. What in the hell is she writing about the Girl Scouts?...is this a blog about Girl Scout cookies?? Actually, I could write an entire blog about G.S. Cookies without a problem, maybe next time. :D
I spent the majority of my elementary and junior high years in the Girl Scouts. Yes, me...I was a Girl Scout. I was also a band geek, but that is another story entirely. During my younger years, I was lucky enough to spend several weeks during the summer at Camp Wawbansee, which I am not 100% certain even exists anymore. I looked forward to those weeks of the summer more than any basketball camp I ever attended. It was a very rustic camp, full of pine trees, wide open spaces, trails for miles, and no air conditioning. The living quarters were screened in cabins with spring loaded cots, and spiders in every corner. It was a beautiful place.
I traded my Girl Scout uniform for a basketball uniform in 7th grade, but that was not the end of my scouting career. Around 1990, I returned to camp as I was hired on as a lifeguard for the summer. It is important to remember that I was a pretty hardcore alcoholic at this age. My first summer at camp, I made friends with the wrong people and almost lost my job because of it. It was at this point in my life that I realized how much alcohol was already taking over, and how much I was in need of a positive role model in my life.
Insert role model here: We were allowed one night off camp grounds each week. One night as my "friends" and I returned to camp, we were greeted by the Camp Director, Kay. Kay was a physical education instructor for special needs children, in addition to her job with the G.S. Counsel. She cornered us on the stairs of the dining hall, and asked us if we had been drinking. Although we had spent the evening drinking bottles of vodka and probably reeked of it, we all said no. She then proceeded to tell us camp horror stories of counselors being injured, fired, and even sued for having alcohol in their system on camp grounds. As we walked the long path back to our unit (the camp was divided into four units, each housing a different age group), the others were stumbling and laughing the whole way, but I actually felt horrible about what happened. Something that had never happened to me sober or drunk...remorse, I think you call it. I had let down the person that hired me, believed in me, and trusted me to take care of campers whether in the unit or at the pool and lake.
The following Sunday when we returned for a new week of camp, I made a change. I traded out my partners in crime, and by doing so made several enemies, but got to know other counselors that were much more respected by the administration staff. I also spent a lot more time getting to know Kay. And by a lot...I worked for her for four additional summers. Every summer I moved up the ranks and became the director of programing as well as the waterfront director. I was also placed in charge of our summer trips to canoe the Buffalo River in Arkansas. I grew up a lot in those five summers and truly learned what hard work and earning respect meant.
Kay was a strong woman, extremely confident, a great leader, and loved her job. I aspired to be just like that. So, I dumped out my bottles of vodka for the month and a half I spent at camp...ok, so I really just left them at home, but only drank on our 24 hour break on the weekends. I had found my first female role model and because of her would continue to pursue my career with the Girl Scouts in Dallas as well as Pennsylvania. Which, in turn, would lead me to meet another great Camp Director!
I spent the majority of my elementary and junior high years in the Girl Scouts. Yes, me...I was a Girl Scout. I was also a band geek, but that is another story entirely. During my younger years, I was lucky enough to spend several weeks during the summer at Camp Wawbansee, which I am not 100% certain even exists anymore. I looked forward to those weeks of the summer more than any basketball camp I ever attended. It was a very rustic camp, full of pine trees, wide open spaces, trails for miles, and no air conditioning. The living quarters were screened in cabins with spring loaded cots, and spiders in every corner. It was a beautiful place.
I traded my Girl Scout uniform for a basketball uniform in 7th grade, but that was not the end of my scouting career. Around 1990, I returned to camp as I was hired on as a lifeguard for the summer. It is important to remember that I was a pretty hardcore alcoholic at this age. My first summer at camp, I made friends with the wrong people and almost lost my job because of it. It was at this point in my life that I realized how much alcohol was already taking over, and how much I was in need of a positive role model in my life.
Insert role model here: We were allowed one night off camp grounds each week. One night as my "friends" and I returned to camp, we were greeted by the Camp Director, Kay. Kay was a physical education instructor for special needs children, in addition to her job with the G.S. Counsel. She cornered us on the stairs of the dining hall, and asked us if we had been drinking. Although we had spent the evening drinking bottles of vodka and probably reeked of it, we all said no. She then proceeded to tell us camp horror stories of counselors being injured, fired, and even sued for having alcohol in their system on camp grounds. As we walked the long path back to our unit (the camp was divided into four units, each housing a different age group), the others were stumbling and laughing the whole way, but I actually felt horrible about what happened. Something that had never happened to me sober or drunk...remorse, I think you call it. I had let down the person that hired me, believed in me, and trusted me to take care of campers whether in the unit or at the pool and lake.
The following Sunday when we returned for a new week of camp, I made a change. I traded out my partners in crime, and by doing so made several enemies, but got to know other counselors that were much more respected by the administration staff. I also spent a lot more time getting to know Kay. And by a lot...I worked for her for four additional summers. Every summer I moved up the ranks and became the director of programing as well as the waterfront director. I was also placed in charge of our summer trips to canoe the Buffalo River in Arkansas. I grew up a lot in those five summers and truly learned what hard work and earning respect meant.
Kay was a strong woman, extremely confident, a great leader, and loved her job. I aspired to be just like that. So, I dumped out my bottles of vodka for the month and a half I spent at camp...ok, so I really just left them at home, but only drank on our 24 hour break on the weekends. I had found my first female role model and because of her would continue to pursue my career with the Girl Scouts in Dallas as well as Pennsylvania. Which, in turn, would lead me to meet another great Camp Director!
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Big Dawg
In 2005, my home sweet home was broken into around 3am. Two men entered the house through the garage. (Just as a side note, for those of you that leave your garage door two inches to a foot off the ground, for whatever reason...you might want to rethink that strategy.) The door had jammed and didn't lower properly, allowing the men to pry it open. They entered the house, scouted out the front rooms, and then went back to the garage to formulate a plan. And I use the word formulate loosely since they were admittedly on a drug binge. In the meantime, my greyhound Lexy had a plan of her own. Once the men re-entered the house, she came at them from a dark corner and they ran out slamming the door behind them. That dog saved my life. Sadly, she has since passed away from bone cancer. But a decision was made on that day to never be without a big dog again.
Four years later, along came Killian, of course named after the Irish red beer. A search for a red doberman led to several places, including rescue organizations, but most were incompatible with the Boston Terriers that already ruled the house. A quick internet search led to a breeder in Poteet that had, yes, one red dobie left. Killian was four weeks old, was already eating dry dog food, and would later have social issues from being separated from her mother to early...but she was my new big "guard" dog. And at the time, she fit in the palm of my hand.
Now days Killian is my side-kick. A 60lb dog that is smarter than the kids at the elementary school down the road, loves to play soccer, and thinks she is a small lap dog. And yes, I know everyone's dog is smart, and Killian knows all the traditional commands; but you can also tell her to go find a specific toy in a specific color and she will bring it to you. That kind of smart.
When I made the decision to sober up, Killian never left my side except for meals. She was a large part of my healing process, and still is. She loves me unconditionally...well, as long as she gets to play soccer, and is a one of a kind faithful companion. The kind you wish would live forever...or at least as long as I do.
Two and a half years ago, someone decided to kick in the front door of the house. I was on a short grocery store run and came home to a cop ready to pull her gun on my front porch. I was out of my mind confused, scared, and pissed off. There was no noise coming from the house which immediately made me think something had happened to all the dogs. But once the house was cleared, all were safe and sound. Killian was in the back yard coward down by the fence. When she saw me, she came running and gave me a big bear hug. I don't know what happened to her that day, and as it turns out she may not be the brave guard dog that Lexy was...but she is still my four legged best friend.
*For information on the criminal associated with the home invasion I first spoke of...google search "Joe Luna death row". And keep in mind, this man was in my house...the outcome could have been a lot worse if not for the actions of my big dog Lexy. And for the love of all things, do not leave your garage doors unsecured at night!
Four years later, along came Killian, of course named after the Irish red beer. A search for a red doberman led to several places, including rescue organizations, but most were incompatible with the Boston Terriers that already ruled the house. A quick internet search led to a breeder in Poteet that had, yes, one red dobie left. Killian was four weeks old, was already eating dry dog food, and would later have social issues from being separated from her mother to early...but she was my new big "guard" dog. And at the time, she fit in the palm of my hand.
Now days Killian is my side-kick. A 60lb dog that is smarter than the kids at the elementary school down the road, loves to play soccer, and thinks she is a small lap dog. And yes, I know everyone's dog is smart, and Killian knows all the traditional commands; but you can also tell her to go find a specific toy in a specific color and she will bring it to you. That kind of smart.
When I made the decision to sober up, Killian never left my side except for meals. She was a large part of my healing process, and still is. She loves me unconditionally...well, as long as she gets to play soccer, and is a one of a kind faithful companion. The kind you wish would live forever...or at least as long as I do.
Two and a half years ago, someone decided to kick in the front door of the house. I was on a short grocery store run and came home to a cop ready to pull her gun on my front porch. I was out of my mind confused, scared, and pissed off. There was no noise coming from the house which immediately made me think something had happened to all the dogs. But once the house was cleared, all were safe and sound. Killian was in the back yard coward down by the fence. When she saw me, she came running and gave me a big bear hug. I don't know what happened to her that day, and as it turns out she may not be the brave guard dog that Lexy was...but she is still my four legged best friend.
*For information on the criminal associated with the home invasion I first spoke of...google search "Joe Luna death row". And keep in mind, this man was in my house...the outcome could have been a lot worse if not for the actions of my big dog Lexy. And for the love of all things, do not leave your garage doors unsecured at night!
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Whew!
These last few weeks have been busy; filled with emotional ups and downs, big decisions, and some training highs and lows...and by low, I mean nightmarish. So, what does it all amount to? Well, the end result, regardless of the events of the past week or so, will be showcased next weekend at America's Strongest Woman in Denison, Texas; where I will compete against some of the best middle weights in strongwoman competition.
Two weeks ago, I missed out on my last chance of event training with my coach because I decided to eat something that gave me food poisoning. Being sick all night and most of the day sucked the life out of me...hell, I almost fell asleep just driving to the barn. I also lost three pounds in the process and can't seem to gain it back. I know what your thinking...shut up and go eat some damn cookies.
The following tuesday, I bounced back with a pretty good pressing workout only to have somehow injured my quad tendon. The swelling has thrown a curve into most of my workouts, including some event work. I am still fighting that issue with ice and Aleve, but I did manage to wrap it well enough to get through some heavy work with the yoke as well as finally making progress with my keg clean and press. Again, I know what you are thinking...you're a moron and should have taken time off to let it heal. I do agree, however, I do manual labor for a living and "rest" isn't much of an option in that regard.
So, as stubborn as I am, I entered my final week of training with one single thought....overcome! Not sit back, relax, and take it easy. I have plenty of time after nationals to rest and heal. This shit only happens once a year. And again, I know, what if I make the injury worse and can not compete at all. The way I look at it...if I said "what if" for every heavy ass piece of furniture I threw over my shoulder or for every time I scaled a twenty foot ladder with an eighty pound chair at work, I would be "what if-ing" myself to death and worrying about things I can not control. Shit happens. There is a belief in the basketball world that when you play scared or worry about injury, you are way more likely to actually get injured. So, you go balls to the wall all the time, regardless.
Finally, the main reason I wrote this...none of it actually matters. Everyone has issues, problems, things to worry about on a daily basis. The fact that it comes on the heals of a big competition sucks, but there is nothing I can do to change it or control it. Next friday, the only thing that matters is to put it all behind me and compete. In other words....overcome! No excuses.
Two weeks ago, I missed out on my last chance of event training with my coach because I decided to eat something that gave me food poisoning. Being sick all night and most of the day sucked the life out of me...hell, I almost fell asleep just driving to the barn. I also lost three pounds in the process and can't seem to gain it back. I know what your thinking...shut up and go eat some damn cookies.
The following tuesday, I bounced back with a pretty good pressing workout only to have somehow injured my quad tendon. The swelling has thrown a curve into most of my workouts, including some event work. I am still fighting that issue with ice and Aleve, but I did manage to wrap it well enough to get through some heavy work with the yoke as well as finally making progress with my keg clean and press. Again, I know what you are thinking...you're a moron and should have taken time off to let it heal. I do agree, however, I do manual labor for a living and "rest" isn't much of an option in that regard.
So, as stubborn as I am, I entered my final week of training with one single thought....overcome! Not sit back, relax, and take it easy. I have plenty of time after nationals to rest and heal. This shit only happens once a year. And again, I know, what if I make the injury worse and can not compete at all. The way I look at it...if I said "what if" for every heavy ass piece of furniture I threw over my shoulder or for every time I scaled a twenty foot ladder with an eighty pound chair at work, I would be "what if-ing" myself to death and worrying about things I can not control. Shit happens. There is a belief in the basketball world that when you play scared or worry about injury, you are way more likely to actually get injured. So, you go balls to the wall all the time, regardless.
Finally, the main reason I wrote this...none of it actually matters. Everyone has issues, problems, things to worry about on a daily basis. The fact that it comes on the heals of a big competition sucks, but there is nothing I can do to change it or control it. Next friday, the only thing that matters is to put it all behind me and compete. In other words....overcome! No excuses.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Reasoning
When alcohol rules your life, reasoning skills simply do not exist. The most primary example is being offered one more drink, even though you are already obliterated, and responding with "sure, why not". For me and my lack of reasoning, I would never turn down a round of brew, especially fresh draft beer in a tall frosty mug. I was not going to be the one to end the party, or be the first to go home, or for that matter let someone else out drink me.
There is scientific proof that reduced brain function, while under the influence, inhibits reasoning skills. Well, no shit right?! I, myself, have been behind the wheel of a car drunk more times than I can count. I have also done more stupid things on a seconds notice, usually with money or some kind of bet involved, than I care to admit. I have gotten into fights, arguments in which I couldn't even recall the subject matter, and have been kicked out of bars all because of over consumption of alcohol lead to poor decision making...or better yet the inability to make a reasonable decision. And of course, I have woken up in places thinking "where the hell am I".
So how do you, as a loved one or family member, deal with an addict's lack of reasoning? Tough question with an even tougher answer. Honestly, you can't. The age old solution of trying to reason with an addict should at this point be thrown out the window. It is not that they do not care about the people they are hurting. It is an unintentional consequence of excessive use of the drug of choice. They simply lack the skill set to make a reasonable choice. Whereas most of us wake up thinking about breakfast, an addict wakes up in the morning with one thing on their mind...how can I get a quick buzz and make my life tolerable again.
Every addict drinks for a reason, and it is not because they love the taste of alcohol. It is primarily for the buzz...the inevitable disappearance of reality. As for me, mine was based a lot in my childhood. I used alcohol to make feelings disappear and create a happier life that did not truly exist...as well as to appear to friends that everything was perfect. Others over indulge in alcohol to "overcome" loss of loved ones, to deal with or actually not deal with family issues, or to avoid remembering something that is eating away at them on the inside. The list could go on forever. In my opinion, the first step is to find the root of the problem. As easy as this may sound, the root may be burried so deep, the addict may not even be able to define it themselves. It took me months of counseling before I was able to identify, at least in part, why I turned to drinking as a solution.
So if you are looking for a quick or immediate, definitive solution, you are probably more likely to win the lotto. The one and only thing I have found to have any percentage of success is support and love. As frustrating as it may be to all parties involved, support for an addict, through the bad times and the even worse times, gives the addict options...one being hope. With support and love, comes a sense of trust, and with trust comes the possibilty of opening up about the root of the problem. And all of these combined begins a healing process for everyone involved.
This is not an overnight solution. It is only the beginning of a long journey; think of it as a climb up Mt. Everest. Until that one day arrives, where the weather is perfect, and the people climbing are 100% invested, only then will the summit be reached. But please, don't give up, walk away, or turn your back on an addict; they too desire to reach the summit of sobriety and a guide of sorts to help them make that one reasonable decision.
There is scientific proof that reduced brain function, while under the influence, inhibits reasoning skills. Well, no shit right?! I, myself, have been behind the wheel of a car drunk more times than I can count. I have also done more stupid things on a seconds notice, usually with money or some kind of bet involved, than I care to admit. I have gotten into fights, arguments in which I couldn't even recall the subject matter, and have been kicked out of bars all because of over consumption of alcohol lead to poor decision making...or better yet the inability to make a reasonable decision. And of course, I have woken up in places thinking "where the hell am I".
So how do you, as a loved one or family member, deal with an addict's lack of reasoning? Tough question with an even tougher answer. Honestly, you can't. The age old solution of trying to reason with an addict should at this point be thrown out the window. It is not that they do not care about the people they are hurting. It is an unintentional consequence of excessive use of the drug of choice. They simply lack the skill set to make a reasonable choice. Whereas most of us wake up thinking about breakfast, an addict wakes up in the morning with one thing on their mind...how can I get a quick buzz and make my life tolerable again.
Every addict drinks for a reason, and it is not because they love the taste of alcohol. It is primarily for the buzz...the inevitable disappearance of reality. As for me, mine was based a lot in my childhood. I used alcohol to make feelings disappear and create a happier life that did not truly exist...as well as to appear to friends that everything was perfect. Others over indulge in alcohol to "overcome" loss of loved ones, to deal with or actually not deal with family issues, or to avoid remembering something that is eating away at them on the inside. The list could go on forever. In my opinion, the first step is to find the root of the problem. As easy as this may sound, the root may be burried so deep, the addict may not even be able to define it themselves. It took me months of counseling before I was able to identify, at least in part, why I turned to drinking as a solution.
So if you are looking for a quick or immediate, definitive solution, you are probably more likely to win the lotto. The one and only thing I have found to have any percentage of success is support and love. As frustrating as it may be to all parties involved, support for an addict, through the bad times and the even worse times, gives the addict options...one being hope. With support and love, comes a sense of trust, and with trust comes the possibilty of opening up about the root of the problem. And all of these combined begins a healing process for everyone involved.
This is not an overnight solution. It is only the beginning of a long journey; think of it as a climb up Mt. Everest. Until that one day arrives, where the weather is perfect, and the people climbing are 100% invested, only then will the summit be reached. But please, don't give up, walk away, or turn your back on an addict; they too desire to reach the summit of sobriety and a guide of sorts to help them make that one reasonable decision.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
2 Kegs Fall Off a Truck
Waiting for the punch-line? Sorry to disappoint, but there actually isn't one. Instead, it is one of the single greatest moments in my drunk life! Now that I use the empty kegs for strongman training, I am reminded just about every day of this one moment.
At the time, I was a manager at an Office Depot on the north side of town. The shopping center was home to quite a few chain restaurants and it was fairly common to see beer trucks flying past the front of the store. On this particular day, I was in the store's receiving area when a co-worker came over the radio saying that I needed to come to the front..."there is beer in the street". I casually walked to the front thinking...what the hell is she talking about...did she say beer?! As I approached the front of the store, my co-worker and a female customer are pointing and looking outside. So of course, I had to get a better look. Sure as shit, there were two kegs laying in the middle of the main circle of the shopping center.
The generous customer offered to bring her vehicle around so I could load them in the back, but before she could finish her sentence, I was in a dead sprint to the kegs. Realizing I had no way of carrying them by myself, I returned to the store, grabbed a dolly, returned to the kegs, and loaded them up. I would have beat Carl Lewis in a 100m sprint that day. A few teenagers made a valliant effort in trying to snag them before me, but hell would freeze over before I let that happen.
I proudly wheeled my kegs straight through the front doors of the store to the receiving area. I passed by my boss who had a confused look on his face, and several customers who asked when Happy Hour started. As the story spread to more people around the store, my boss suggested that I load them into my car. We loaded them into the trunk of my poor little Saturn, which now looked like it was riding on the two back tires alone.
As it ends up, one keg was empty. The other...it was a full, ice cold keg of Dos Equis. And I was scheduled off the next day. Coincidence or not, there was about to be an impromptu keg party at the house! I called and text a handful of friends, and although no one believed what happened, they sure did show up that night to help me float the keg.
Oh! And as for the driver of the beer truck, maybe the next time he decided to drive full speed through the middle of a shopping center, he made an effort to check that all his doors were secured. Or maybe someone else ended up winning the beer lottery like I did!
Good times :)
At the time, I was a manager at an Office Depot on the north side of town. The shopping center was home to quite a few chain restaurants and it was fairly common to see beer trucks flying past the front of the store. On this particular day, I was in the store's receiving area when a co-worker came over the radio saying that I needed to come to the front..."there is beer in the street". I casually walked to the front thinking...what the hell is she talking about...did she say beer?! As I approached the front of the store, my co-worker and a female customer are pointing and looking outside. So of course, I had to get a better look. Sure as shit, there were two kegs laying in the middle of the main circle of the shopping center.
The generous customer offered to bring her vehicle around so I could load them in the back, but before she could finish her sentence, I was in a dead sprint to the kegs. Realizing I had no way of carrying them by myself, I returned to the store, grabbed a dolly, returned to the kegs, and loaded them up. I would have beat Carl Lewis in a 100m sprint that day. A few teenagers made a valliant effort in trying to snag them before me, but hell would freeze over before I let that happen.
I proudly wheeled my kegs straight through the front doors of the store to the receiving area. I passed by my boss who had a confused look on his face, and several customers who asked when Happy Hour started. As the story spread to more people around the store, my boss suggested that I load them into my car. We loaded them into the trunk of my poor little Saturn, which now looked like it was riding on the two back tires alone.
As it ends up, one keg was empty. The other...it was a full, ice cold keg of Dos Equis. And I was scheduled off the next day. Coincidence or not, there was about to be an impromptu keg party at the house! I called and text a handful of friends, and although no one believed what happened, they sure did show up that night to help me float the keg.
Oh! And as for the driver of the beer truck, maybe the next time he decided to drive full speed through the middle of a shopping center, he made an effort to check that all his doors were secured. Or maybe someone else ended up winning the beer lottery like I did!
Good times :)
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Work for the Money
Yeah right! I work in retail, in a company merging with a failing company, making cut backs at the store level while the bigwigs play golf. There is no money...unless someone drops some cash out of their pocket while shopping. But I digress.
I was having a conversation today about people who do work just for the money. We were talking about a specific profession, but the pursuit of the all mighty dollar can be found everywhere and in every profession. And regardless of what you might believe, my opinion is that 99.9% of those people don't give a rat's ass about the people they are dealing with...only that they get a fat paycheck.
Case in point: I take several medications that get me through the day. And to get these meds, since they don't grow on trees, I had to find a doctor to prescribe them. I sought out a doc who dealt first hand with addicts. My goal was to find a person that would listen to my issues thus prescribing the right meds and avoiding the "try this and see if it works" method. At this point, I am not going to blow her up in my blog, but she does work here in San Antonio and also treats a lot of children. The latter of which is quite disturbing to me. This particular doctor is in it for the money...her plush office should have given me a heads up on that one...along with the month long holiday vacation she took. You can slap me now for not reading into this a little sooner.
On the days that I had an appointment, I would sit in the waiting room with no less than three children...most dressed in private school uniforms and most unaccompanied. They would be in and out of her office in a matter of minutes, and leave with a prescription in hand. Now, I am not judging the children or their parents. It is possible that they truly needed the meds. Although, I doubt the entire school district needed them. In the months that I spent with this doc, I found her to be severly lacking social skills, didn't listen to a damn thing I said, and prolonged my battle with depression, anxiety, and anger by writing prescriptions for shit I did not need. Long story short, she was making a ton of cash off of people for all the wrong reasons. And, for the record, her inability to listen and prescribe the correct meds almost cost her some brand new tires.
I have since changed doctors and all is right in my world...well, most days it is pretty damn good. But my experience does leave me wondering how she is such a highly rated physician...oh right, it's because she hands out meds like candy. I need to go trick or treating at her house. I do, however, all joking aside, think her title should be changed to drug dealer, because what she is doing is no better than the guy sitting in a jail cell for selling on the street corner. The only difference is she gets to enjoy her earnings.
I was having a conversation today about people who do work just for the money. We were talking about a specific profession, but the pursuit of the all mighty dollar can be found everywhere and in every profession. And regardless of what you might believe, my opinion is that 99.9% of those people don't give a rat's ass about the people they are dealing with...only that they get a fat paycheck.
Case in point: I take several medications that get me through the day. And to get these meds, since they don't grow on trees, I had to find a doctor to prescribe them. I sought out a doc who dealt first hand with addicts. My goal was to find a person that would listen to my issues thus prescribing the right meds and avoiding the "try this and see if it works" method. At this point, I am not going to blow her up in my blog, but she does work here in San Antonio and also treats a lot of children. The latter of which is quite disturbing to me. This particular doctor is in it for the money...her plush office should have given me a heads up on that one...along with the month long holiday vacation she took. You can slap me now for not reading into this a little sooner.
On the days that I had an appointment, I would sit in the waiting room with no less than three children...most dressed in private school uniforms and most unaccompanied. They would be in and out of her office in a matter of minutes, and leave with a prescription in hand. Now, I am not judging the children or their parents. It is possible that they truly needed the meds. Although, I doubt the entire school district needed them. In the months that I spent with this doc, I found her to be severly lacking social skills, didn't listen to a damn thing I said, and prolonged my battle with depression, anxiety, and anger by writing prescriptions for shit I did not need. Long story short, she was making a ton of cash off of people for all the wrong reasons. And, for the record, her inability to listen and prescribe the correct meds almost cost her some brand new tires.
I have since changed doctors and all is right in my world...well, most days it is pretty damn good. But my experience does leave me wondering how she is such a highly rated physician...oh right, it's because she hands out meds like candy. I need to go trick or treating at her house. I do, however, all joking aside, think her title should be changed to drug dealer, because what she is doing is no better than the guy sitting in a jail cell for selling on the street corner. The only difference is she gets to enjoy her earnings.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Everyone is Replaceable
Being an athlete of some sort most of my life...beer pong and flip cup do count by the way, this is one lesson I waited a long time to learn. And I have to say, as with most things, I learned it the hard way.
I was in college. It was my final year and I was a team captain. I was averaging 38 minutes a game, almost 30 points, over 10 rebounds, and shot a better than average percentage from the floor. There were plays designed for me to get my shot off and defenses would send their best defender after me. I even had an article published about me in the Dallas Morning News. And with that came ego. Yes, I was a good small college basketball player, but not irreplaceable by any stretch of the imagination.
I have no idea who we were playing, but it was mid to late season so it was probably a conference game. A player had just joined our team after spending a semester in Rome. She had only practiced with us for about a week or so, and her knowledge of our plays and defensive scheme was minimal at best. As the game wore on, coach decided to put her in. Other players were helping her get in the right position for plays and helping her out defensively. As for me, I spent the same time on the floor frustrated and not helping in any way, shape, or form.
We were down and needed some quick scoring so my play was called, a basic double down screen for the shooter. I had some of the best screening post players that year and 9/10 times, I would be wide open for the shot. On this particular play, I lit into the new player. She had no idea what to do and just stood out on the 3pt line...right where I wanted to take the shot. Consequently, we turned the ball over and I continued to gripe at her all the way down the court. I made an ass out of myself.
The following day, I could not get that single moment out of my mind. I went in and sat down in my coach's office and apologized for my behavior. She accepted it but had not decided if I was going to start the next game. With what pride I had left, I went down to the floor to shoot around before practice. That one moment had taught me a very valuable lesson...I could be replaced, no matter what my stats were. Needless to say, I busted my ass in practice, kept my mouth shut, and did start the next game, but my coach left me guessing for a week with plenty of time to reflect and get my ego in check.
Confidence in yourself and your abilities is one thing, but an ego driven, "I am the best and no one is better than me" attitude is pretty much a big fat lie you are telling yourself. There is always someone out there that is bigger, faster, stronger, and will kick your ego in the ass. If not today, then maybe tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then maybe next week. But it is coming...and usually from where you least expect it.
The games we play are forever evolving and so are the players. Enjoy your moment because someone is coming up behind you ready to fill your shoes at any moment.
I was in college. It was my final year and I was a team captain. I was averaging 38 minutes a game, almost 30 points, over 10 rebounds, and shot a better than average percentage from the floor. There were plays designed for me to get my shot off and defenses would send their best defender after me. I even had an article published about me in the Dallas Morning News. And with that came ego. Yes, I was a good small college basketball player, but not irreplaceable by any stretch of the imagination.
I have no idea who we were playing, but it was mid to late season so it was probably a conference game. A player had just joined our team after spending a semester in Rome. She had only practiced with us for about a week or so, and her knowledge of our plays and defensive scheme was minimal at best. As the game wore on, coach decided to put her in. Other players were helping her get in the right position for plays and helping her out defensively. As for me, I spent the same time on the floor frustrated and not helping in any way, shape, or form.
We were down and needed some quick scoring so my play was called, a basic double down screen for the shooter. I had some of the best screening post players that year and 9/10 times, I would be wide open for the shot. On this particular play, I lit into the new player. She had no idea what to do and just stood out on the 3pt line...right where I wanted to take the shot. Consequently, we turned the ball over and I continued to gripe at her all the way down the court. I made an ass out of myself.
The following day, I could not get that single moment out of my mind. I went in and sat down in my coach's office and apologized for my behavior. She accepted it but had not decided if I was going to start the next game. With what pride I had left, I went down to the floor to shoot around before practice. That one moment had taught me a very valuable lesson...I could be replaced, no matter what my stats were. Needless to say, I busted my ass in practice, kept my mouth shut, and did start the next game, but my coach left me guessing for a week with plenty of time to reflect and get my ego in check.
Confidence in yourself and your abilities is one thing, but an ego driven, "I am the best and no one is better than me" attitude is pretty much a big fat lie you are telling yourself. There is always someone out there that is bigger, faster, stronger, and will kick your ego in the ass. If not today, then maybe tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then maybe next week. But it is coming...and usually from where you least expect it.
The games we play are forever evolving and so are the players. Enjoy your moment because someone is coming up behind you ready to fill your shoes at any moment.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
18 months of Living
18 months, 1 year and 6 months, 548-ish days: No matter how you spin it, that is how long I have been sober...as of today. I still have a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that I made it this long and how lucky I am to even be alive. I sure as hell never expected all the support I have received along the way, and am extremely grateful for all of the kind words and notes of encouragement. My 18 month journey has, in part, taken on a life of its own through sharing my trials, errors, as well as all the positive aspects of cleaning up my life. This blog has definitely helped me see things in a different light, as I hope it has been able to help others too, regardless of the issue at hand.
I still have my day to day struggles in dealing with my emotions, a consequence of using alcohol as a kid to cover them all up. Anger is a constant battle, but a much less frequent occurrence since I started lifting again. I now live my life one day at a time in search of making myself a better person while taking the time to enjoy the little things, instead of living my life dictated by an alcohol induced buzz. What began as a questionable and almost humorous statement of "I am done drinking", has turned into a personal challenge full of accomplishment.
I have proven to myself, and hopefully others, that it can be done. An alcoholic can, against all odds, become a sober successful person. I have not made this journey alone and attribute much of my success to those who, knowingly or not, were there when I needed it the most. From the continued love and support of my best friend, Brooke; to the assistance of my therapist; to meeting the greatest lifting coach, motivator, and friend, Jill, at a time when I was at a crossroad; to the development of the Barn Crew, a great group of friends and lifting partners...and a source of constant entertainment; to the continued support of co-workers and friends from far and near; and last but not least my long time friend, mama Peeler, who has never given up on me and made dreams of mine become reality.
Today, I will celebrate with Big Red Zero and my favorite cookies, along with a brutal squat and deadlift workout...followed by an evening with my family and I am sure a few good cigars. A perfect day in my new life.
I still have my day to day struggles in dealing with my emotions, a consequence of using alcohol as a kid to cover them all up. Anger is a constant battle, but a much less frequent occurrence since I started lifting again. I now live my life one day at a time in search of making myself a better person while taking the time to enjoy the little things, instead of living my life dictated by an alcohol induced buzz. What began as a questionable and almost humorous statement of "I am done drinking", has turned into a personal challenge full of accomplishment.
I have proven to myself, and hopefully others, that it can be done. An alcoholic can, against all odds, become a sober successful person. I have not made this journey alone and attribute much of my success to those who, knowingly or not, were there when I needed it the most. From the continued love and support of my best friend, Brooke; to the assistance of my therapist; to meeting the greatest lifting coach, motivator, and friend, Jill, at a time when I was at a crossroad; to the development of the Barn Crew, a great group of friends and lifting partners...and a source of constant entertainment; to the continued support of co-workers and friends from far and near; and last but not least my long time friend, mama Peeler, who has never given up on me and made dreams of mine become reality.
Today, I will celebrate with Big Red Zero and my favorite cookies, along with a brutal squat and deadlift workout...followed by an evening with my family and I am sure a few good cigars. A perfect day in my new life.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Sabotage
I find it a bit humorous that I was just writing a blog on learning lessons in life...and then I got slapped with another one today. Both are sports related, and thank goodness, I can say that it was a different lesson...or at this point you could just stop reading. But if it is any sort of consolation, I am really consistent at learning the hard way, which always makes for a good story.
First, there are three things you need to know for any of this to make sense.
1. I am stubborn.
2. I have a tendency to try and find perfection in some of the things I do, especially when it comes down to finding a solution to something that presents a challenge.
3. In order to achieve my perceived perfection, I will spend countless hours watching and studying techniques, research different view points and cues that may spark an "oh, I didn't think about that", and if I find something that might work for me, I have to test it out.
Now, this did not just begin overnight or last night for that matter. When I was in high school, I wanted to become a better, more consistent shooter. In order to learn the correct mechanics, I would spend hours and hours watching Larry Bird and Pete Maravich games and videos. The next chance I got, I would head outside and practice until it was too dark to see. I did the same thing in college because I wanted to be a threat as a 3pt shooter. I spent an entire summer on the court at the YMCA, but when I returned to school in the fall, it paid off and I shot and made more 3pters than I had in my previous three seasons combined.
BUT, and I emphasize the "but", there are times when the endless, some may even call it obsessive, pursuit of perfection can backfire. And/or just straight blow up in your face. Today, the fuse was lit and the bomb squad was on stand-by. There are only so many warnings you get until the person warning you just flat out says enough is enough...time to prove my point.
Over training. That is what happens when you become obsessed with perfecting a single movement. And while in my mind, I simply want to get better at it...the truth is I am actually being completely counter productive in gaining the stength needed to execute the movement all-together. So today, my training consisted of lots of overhead and fundamental exercises that wore the hell out of my shoulders, triceps, traps, and anything else that is related to pressing. This would be my third day in a row to work on presses. Due to the overload I created on the first two days, I was unable to complete any heavy reps on the one day that I needed to. A wise grandma once told me that I was going to "sabotage myself". And so I did...if only I had listened the first eighteen times.
In summary, when you have a far more experienced and successful person telling you what is good for you...it just might be the truth. There is a damn good chance they have either learned by their own trial and error, or quite possibly are just looking out for your best interests...or both. For me and my upper body, lesson learned...the hard way.
First, there are three things you need to know for any of this to make sense.
1. I am stubborn.
2. I have a tendency to try and find perfection in some of the things I do, especially when it comes down to finding a solution to something that presents a challenge.
3. In order to achieve my perceived perfection, I will spend countless hours watching and studying techniques, research different view points and cues that may spark an "oh, I didn't think about that", and if I find something that might work for me, I have to test it out.
Now, this did not just begin overnight or last night for that matter. When I was in high school, I wanted to become a better, more consistent shooter. In order to learn the correct mechanics, I would spend hours and hours watching Larry Bird and Pete Maravich games and videos. The next chance I got, I would head outside and practice until it was too dark to see. I did the same thing in college because I wanted to be a threat as a 3pt shooter. I spent an entire summer on the court at the YMCA, but when I returned to school in the fall, it paid off and I shot and made more 3pters than I had in my previous three seasons combined.
BUT, and I emphasize the "but", there are times when the endless, some may even call it obsessive, pursuit of perfection can backfire. And/or just straight blow up in your face. Today, the fuse was lit and the bomb squad was on stand-by. There are only so many warnings you get until the person warning you just flat out says enough is enough...time to prove my point.
Over training. That is what happens when you become obsessed with perfecting a single movement. And while in my mind, I simply want to get better at it...the truth is I am actually being completely counter productive in gaining the stength needed to execute the movement all-together. So today, my training consisted of lots of overhead and fundamental exercises that wore the hell out of my shoulders, triceps, traps, and anything else that is related to pressing. This would be my third day in a row to work on presses. Due to the overload I created on the first two days, I was unable to complete any heavy reps on the one day that I needed to. A wise grandma once told me that I was going to "sabotage myself". And so I did...if only I had listened the first eighteen times.
In summary, when you have a far more experienced and successful person telling you what is good for you...it just might be the truth. There is a damn good chance they have either learned by their own trial and error, or quite possibly are just looking out for your best interests...or both. For me and my upper body, lesson learned...the hard way.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Judgement
The stigmas associated with being labeled an alcoholic, or any type of addict for that matter, is a fairly long list that can often have negative consequences on the individual. The negative connotations, often unfair and some times uneducated beliefs, disapproval by friends and family, a simple mark of disgrace; all of which can lead to discrimination at work, difficulty even finding a job, harassment, the idea that you are a failure and will never succeed in life.
Stigma = shame and shame = silence.
I have spent a lot of time reading about alcoholism and addicts in the last year and a half, simply to try and understand my own issues. However, research on functional alcoholics is minimal at best. Mainly due to the what you just read. Thankfully, in my small part of the world, I never experienced much of what is listed. I was well known as the big drinker among friends and colleagues. For me, if I didn't have a beer in my hand, or both, then the harassment began. I also no longer have a high profile job, which in a sense allows me to have more freedom to say and write exactly how I feel without any negative consequences. In the same respect, I have always been pretty outspoken on certain subjects, and would and still will give you my opinion regardless if you ask for it. Just ask any of my current or former bosses at work.
Stigmas are a pretty shitty way of stereotyping a person based on something that has happened in their life, even if it is an uncontrolable disease. Take the 1850's novel The Scarlet Letter for instance. Yes, I have read it...not just watched the Demi Moore version. A woman was forced to wear the letter "A" and face public humiliation for an adulterous relationship. I am in no way saying adultery is a disease, just simply using Hester's downfall as an example of what happens when someone is placed in a position of being publicly labeled, whether right or wrong.
I have had plenty of judgemental remarks towards the way I look, dress, how I present myself, and even some in relation to my job...simply because I choose to work in retail and am a blue collar worker must in some way mean that I am uneducated. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, a lot of these were initiated by my parents. I guess that is part of the reason why I am not ashamed of admitting that I was an alcoholic, or professional drunk as I like to call it, that I did seek counseling for it, and I do now rely in part on certain meds to get me through the day. And I can honestly say that the feedback has been extremely, and overwelmingly positive. Although, I am sure someone out there thinks I am a nut job that can not overcome alcoholism...once a drunk, always a drunk right?! Well, I'm not dead, not certifiable, and no longer a drinker, except Big Red and that doesn't count. So, judge me as you please because I will prove you wrong. I am not ashamed of the disease that I battle and I will not be silent about it.
The moral of the story is this: if there were less stigmas attached to alcoholics, maybe there would be less silence, thus more information gathered about the disease...all leading to a single resolution and avoidance of using alcohol as a cover-up. But for now, we are stuck with the mom and pop age old response of "don't drink because it's bad for you".
Stigma = shame and shame = silence.
I have spent a lot of time reading about alcoholism and addicts in the last year and a half, simply to try and understand my own issues. However, research on functional alcoholics is minimal at best. Mainly due to the what you just read. Thankfully, in my small part of the world, I never experienced much of what is listed. I was well known as the big drinker among friends and colleagues. For me, if I didn't have a beer in my hand, or both, then the harassment began. I also no longer have a high profile job, which in a sense allows me to have more freedom to say and write exactly how I feel without any negative consequences. In the same respect, I have always been pretty outspoken on certain subjects, and would and still will give you my opinion regardless if you ask for it. Just ask any of my current or former bosses at work.
Stigmas are a pretty shitty way of stereotyping a person based on something that has happened in their life, even if it is an uncontrolable disease. Take the 1850's novel The Scarlet Letter for instance. Yes, I have read it...not just watched the Demi Moore version. A woman was forced to wear the letter "A" and face public humiliation for an adulterous relationship. I am in no way saying adultery is a disease, just simply using Hester's downfall as an example of what happens when someone is placed in a position of being publicly labeled, whether right or wrong.
I have had plenty of judgemental remarks towards the way I look, dress, how I present myself, and even some in relation to my job...simply because I choose to work in retail and am a blue collar worker must in some way mean that I am uneducated. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, a lot of these were initiated by my parents. I guess that is part of the reason why I am not ashamed of admitting that I was an alcoholic, or professional drunk as I like to call it, that I did seek counseling for it, and I do now rely in part on certain meds to get me through the day. And I can honestly say that the feedback has been extremely, and overwelmingly positive. Although, I am sure someone out there thinks I am a nut job that can not overcome alcoholism...once a drunk, always a drunk right?! Well, I'm not dead, not certifiable, and no longer a drinker, except Big Red and that doesn't count. So, judge me as you please because I will prove you wrong. I am not ashamed of the disease that I battle and I will not be silent about it.
The moral of the story is this: if there were less stigmas attached to alcoholics, maybe there would be less silence, thus more information gathered about the disease...all leading to a single resolution and avoidance of using alcohol as a cover-up. But for now, we are stuck with the mom and pop age old response of "don't drink because it's bad for you".
Saturday, September 21, 2013
drunk Grace
Grace is one of my all time favorite CrossFit workouts. Why? Because it is short and sweet, almost anyone can throw a 95lb bar around, so there is always some kind of competition, and I used to smoke everyone else in the gym. And who can resist a workout made up soley of a clean and jerk...one of my favorite lifts, even though I am really not that good at it. Although, I do have to admit the movement itself rarely resembles a clean and jerk. Its more along the lines of a ground to reverse curl to rack and any way overhead.
For all the non-crossfitters and newbs to CrossFit, Grace is a hurricane WOD. The original girl named WOD's were named after hurricanes, as in the ones that make landfall...duh. Others, such as "Annie" and "Eva", were named after some of the original badass CrossFit women. Annie, made up of double-unders and sit-ups, my least favorite WOD out of all of them, is named after Annie Sakamoto...one of my all-time favorite crossfitters (along with Jolie Gentry, the original Games Champion).
Grace is a 30 rep workout. I have probably done it around a dozen times...sometimes just for fun as a warm-up and other times while participating in a fundraiser. It is one that I can complete in just a little over two and a half minutes. Then there was "drunk Grace". Come on, I wrote a whole blog about working out and drinking...you can't be surprised. There is no telling how many beers I had already consumed, but I decided to do three rounds of ten clean and jerk @ 95lbs, each round was followed by slamming a 12oz cold Miller Lite. I completed the workout in five and a half minutes...and managed to avoid hitting myself in the head with the bar. So, what this all boils down to is that I decided to make a return to "drunk Grace". Wait for it.....
30 keg clean and press...somewhere around 100lbs. I don't know what you were thinking. I finished all 30 legit reps, including a slight pause at the top, in just around 8 minutes. Although I do know how long it took, give or take, there was no rush as I was working on my form through the movement. Whereas in the past, I would have just thrown the bar around as quick as possible to get the best time. But that is one difference between CrossFit and Strongwoman...quality of the reps are way more important due to the weight involved as well as the implement. You can always drop a bar with bumpers, but a heavy keg hitting the ground due to bad form can easily end up breaking something...including a body part.
For all the non-crossfitters and newbs to CrossFit, Grace is a hurricane WOD. The original girl named WOD's were named after hurricanes, as in the ones that make landfall...duh. Others, such as "Annie" and "Eva", were named after some of the original badass CrossFit women. Annie, made up of double-unders and sit-ups, my least favorite WOD out of all of them, is named after Annie Sakamoto...one of my all-time favorite crossfitters (along with Jolie Gentry, the original Games Champion).
Grace is a 30 rep workout. I have probably done it around a dozen times...sometimes just for fun as a warm-up and other times while participating in a fundraiser. It is one that I can complete in just a little over two and a half minutes. Then there was "drunk Grace". Come on, I wrote a whole blog about working out and drinking...you can't be surprised. There is no telling how many beers I had already consumed, but I decided to do three rounds of ten clean and jerk @ 95lbs, each round was followed by slamming a 12oz cold Miller Lite. I completed the workout in five and a half minutes...and managed to avoid hitting myself in the head with the bar. So, what this all boils down to is that I decided to make a return to "drunk Grace". Wait for it.....
30 keg clean and press...somewhere around 100lbs. I don't know what you were thinking. I finished all 30 legit reps, including a slight pause at the top, in just around 8 minutes. Although I do know how long it took, give or take, there was no rush as I was working on my form through the movement. Whereas in the past, I would have just thrown the bar around as quick as possible to get the best time. But that is one difference between CrossFit and Strongwoman...quality of the reps are way more important due to the weight involved as well as the implement. You can always drop a bar with bumpers, but a heavy keg hitting the ground due to bad form can easily end up breaking something...including a body part.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
the Unexpected...Food
It has been almost 18 months since my last beer. Now days, I eat pretty much whatever I want (aka Big Red Zero and Chunky Chips Ahoy) and work my ass off in the gym. However, during my first few weeks of sobriety, I encountered something that I did not plan for...one of the unexpected aspects of sobering up.
To abruptly deprive my body of the only thing that it knew, Mr. Barley and Ms. Hops, was quite an adjustment, mentally and physically. Just like any other addict, in the first few days, I fought off the shakes, I felt sick, I slept hours on end, I drank gallons of water…but once I was back on my feet, the one thing I was not prepared for was learning how to eat again. Beer was my most substantial source of nutrients (just the idea that beer, in massive amounts, is nutritious makes me laugh), but as I began the first week of my journey, I had no real interest in food. No food, no calories, no energy…this was not a good thing. So began the process of finding food that was enjoyable. Those I consumed in excess with beer, I no longer craved. In fact, I recently had a Reese’s peanut butter cup again…trust me, I ate it…but really didn’t enjoy it like I used too. I lost my appetite for a lot of different things, especially things that were salty.
Once I figured out what to eat, along came the challenge of how much to eat. At first, I would not eat enough to sustain me for even one full hour. What I forgot to consider: I had been consuming a minimum of 3000 calories a day in beer, plus whatever food I did eat, so now I always felt as if I was starving. After six months of trial and error, I finally found my best eating schedule along with quantity and type of foods to get me through a full day (mind you I never said it was all healthy or good for me).
My first few months, I found that eating a family sized breakfast was the way to go. I would wake up starving in the mornings, and since I work fairly early, it would be the only way to get me through most of my shift. I would follow that up with a sandwich for lunch and a decent sized dinner. I eventually found that adding a protein shake to my morning routine helped immensely and my breakfast platter turned back into a plate. My body has since adjusted to this new way of life, and I still eat a good breakfast and dinner. But mid-day is more a series of snacks rather than a full lunch. I now find myself eating something around 9 or 10am, 2pm, and 5pm...followed by dinner at 7-8pm. I will refrain from telling you what I do eat because I don't want someone to try my "diet" and end up gaining fifty pounds. What I will tell you is that it works for me!
And yes, to all those diet gurus out there, I may be, according to your way of life, killing my body by eating processed foods. BUT guess what...we breathe the same crappy air, most of us shop at the same grocery store or something similar, and with the crap that is shipped out of China, you probably don't know what your eating either. So, I will happily enjoy my cookies, pop-tarts, and waffles...and still kick some ass in the gym! :))
To abruptly deprive my body of the only thing that it knew, Mr. Barley and Ms. Hops, was quite an adjustment, mentally and physically. Just like any other addict, in the first few days, I fought off the shakes, I felt sick, I slept hours on end, I drank gallons of water…but once I was back on my feet, the one thing I was not prepared for was learning how to eat again. Beer was my most substantial source of nutrients (just the idea that beer, in massive amounts, is nutritious makes me laugh), but as I began the first week of my journey, I had no real interest in food. No food, no calories, no energy…this was not a good thing. So began the process of finding food that was enjoyable. Those I consumed in excess with beer, I no longer craved. In fact, I recently had a Reese’s peanut butter cup again…trust me, I ate it…but really didn’t enjoy it like I used too. I lost my appetite for a lot of different things, especially things that were salty.
Once I figured out what to eat, along came the challenge of how much to eat. At first, I would not eat enough to sustain me for even one full hour. What I forgot to consider: I had been consuming a minimum of 3000 calories a day in beer, plus whatever food I did eat, so now I always felt as if I was starving. After six months of trial and error, I finally found my best eating schedule along with quantity and type of foods to get me through a full day (mind you I never said it was all healthy or good for me).
My first few months, I found that eating a family sized breakfast was the way to go. I would wake up starving in the mornings, and since I work fairly early, it would be the only way to get me through most of my shift. I would follow that up with a sandwich for lunch and a decent sized dinner. I eventually found that adding a protein shake to my morning routine helped immensely and my breakfast platter turned back into a plate. My body has since adjusted to this new way of life, and I still eat a good breakfast and dinner. But mid-day is more a series of snacks rather than a full lunch. I now find myself eating something around 9 or 10am, 2pm, and 5pm...followed by dinner at 7-8pm. I will refrain from telling you what I do eat because I don't want someone to try my "diet" and end up gaining fifty pounds. What I will tell you is that it works for me!
And yes, to all those diet gurus out there, I may be, according to your way of life, killing my body by eating processed foods. BUT guess what...we breathe the same crappy air, most of us shop at the same grocery store or something similar, and with the crap that is shipped out of China, you probably don't know what your eating either. So, I will happily enjoy my cookies, pop-tarts, and waffles...and still kick some ass in the gym! :))
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
What Goals???
"The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me."
And the answer to that is me...only I can sell myself short.
My number #1 goal in the short term and long term is an easy one: stay clean and sober. Even though I have faced some rough days and I am sure there will be more ahead, I have had more fun and enjoyed life more in the last eighteen months than I ever did covering up my problems with beer and alcohol. I sincerely hope any one with addiction issues can turn there life around...because it is never to late! And when they say the grass is always greener on the other side, that is 100% true in this case. Simply waking up every morning at the crack of dawn sober and watching the sun come up, (instead of puking my guts out and laying on the couch trembling with anxiety about the day ahead), makes me appreciate every day I am given.
Beyond my professional drunk life, I have already achieved many small goals that just make me want to push further and see what is possible. I got to a point in my life where I wouldn't get into a car unless I was driving...overcome. I was afraid to step foot on an airplane...overcome. And the times I was afraid to leave the house because of the unknown...overcome. My goal now is to save up some cash and take a well earned family vacation...probably to Vegas. Yes, I may be the only person in the world that wants to experience Sin City and the beautiful red rock canyons sober.
And then, of course, I have my goals for strongman as well as powerlifting. With the strongwoman national competition right around the corner, my sights are now set on improving my lifts and event techniques so that I am 100% confident in my capabilities when the clock starts. I don't expect any miracles to happen, there are only so many gains one person can make in a month. But with that being said, there are adjustments that can be made to make what I can do more efficient and consistent, thus turning the question of "can I" into "I will". A year from now, my sights are set on being competitive at this level, as well as making a more successful run at CA Stongest Woman.
Powerlifting is similar in the fact that repition makes you more consistent in your lifts. But I also see it as a numbers game. There is no end to what a person is capable of lifting...there is always more weight to be added. Since I finally hit my goal of 350 on the deadlift, it is time to move toward my goal of 400 by the end of next summer. My coach also helped in setting short term goals for my next meet with higher starting weights which would ultimately end with some new PR's...and hitting the elusive 200lb bench as well as going over 200lbs on my squat.
There is lots of hard work ahead but I am ready to face the challenge!
And the answer to that is me...only I can sell myself short.
My number #1 goal in the short term and long term is an easy one: stay clean and sober. Even though I have faced some rough days and I am sure there will be more ahead, I have had more fun and enjoyed life more in the last eighteen months than I ever did covering up my problems with beer and alcohol. I sincerely hope any one with addiction issues can turn there life around...because it is never to late! And when they say the grass is always greener on the other side, that is 100% true in this case. Simply waking up every morning at the crack of dawn sober and watching the sun come up, (instead of puking my guts out and laying on the couch trembling with anxiety about the day ahead), makes me appreciate every day I am given.
Beyond my professional drunk life, I have already achieved many small goals that just make me want to push further and see what is possible. I got to a point in my life where I wouldn't get into a car unless I was driving...overcome. I was afraid to step foot on an airplane...overcome. And the times I was afraid to leave the house because of the unknown...overcome. My goal now is to save up some cash and take a well earned family vacation...probably to Vegas. Yes, I may be the only person in the world that wants to experience Sin City and the beautiful red rock canyons sober.
And then, of course, I have my goals for strongman as well as powerlifting. With the strongwoman national competition right around the corner, my sights are now set on improving my lifts and event techniques so that I am 100% confident in my capabilities when the clock starts. I don't expect any miracles to happen, there are only so many gains one person can make in a month. But with that being said, there are adjustments that can be made to make what I can do more efficient and consistent, thus turning the question of "can I" into "I will". A year from now, my sights are set on being competitive at this level, as well as making a more successful run at CA Stongest Woman.
Powerlifting is similar in the fact that repition makes you more consistent in your lifts. But I also see it as a numbers game. There is no end to what a person is capable of lifting...there is always more weight to be added. Since I finally hit my goal of 350 on the deadlift, it is time to move toward my goal of 400 by the end of next summer. My coach also helped in setting short term goals for my next meet with higher starting weights which would ultimately end with some new PR's...and hitting the elusive 200lb bench as well as going over 200lbs on my squat.
There is lots of hard work ahead but I am ready to face the challenge!
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