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.

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.

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.

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".

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. 

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! :))

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!

Opening Act

I returned yesterday evening from the USPA Capital of Texas Open with the intention of writing my blog and reviewing the event.  But with so much adrenaline still flying through my system just talking about it, I decided to wait another day to reflect on everything that happened.  Plus, by 9:30 my body and mind called it quits and I crashed hard.

I would like to say first that Robert Gallegos, with the assistance of Austin Simply Fit, put on a well run and amazing event!  Lifters from around Texas started filing in around 8am, including six from our very own Olympic Gym.  You may associate O.G. with "original gangster"...but here it IS Olympic Gym.  All six of the O.G. athletes, trained by the one and only Jill Mills, placed in their weight class and came home with medals, including the men's best overall lifter, Rich Bufalini.

I know for me personally, it was some of the best competition lifting I have ever done.  Chalk it up to actually taking days off, having my Barn Crew cheering me on, Gary finding the only place that sells Big Red Zero, or the inspirational lifting clinic that Jill put on as a guest lifter...it is one day I will not soon forget.  It's days like this that make busting your ass in the gym worth every damn minute!

I spent a lot of my day as the opening act for my coach's larger than life lifts. And it was freakin' AWESOME!  How many people can say they have shared a platform with the person that inspires them the most?  Well, I have now!  She staked claim to a 1250 total with a 440 squat, 281 bench...barely missing her third lift of 303, and a 529 deadlift.  The good thing was...at least I didn't have to go after those lifts!  And you had to feel some sympathy for the guys loading the bar, they had to strip all that weight every time so that we could start the rotation over.  I would venture to guess they might be a little sore today.   

As for me, I came pretty damn close to hitting all my goals for the meet...and each of my lifts was a PR for me in the 165lb weight class.  My squat, which I had started from scratch with less than a year ago, is just two pounds shy of the 200 mark.  Although the 200lb bench still eludes me, I did hit a 187...up six pounds from my last couple of meets.  And finally, I hit and exceeded my big goal of a 350 deadlift, ending with a 352, a twenty pound meet PR.  My deadlift came courtesy of: 1. lots of strongman training, 2. my judge at California's Strongest Woman, Donnie Rhodes, who mentioned to me after the event that he thought my 365lb deadlift was more me than the suit (I'm guessing because I use so much back rather than leg), and 3. Jill's husband, Milo, who was standing next to me when I went to put in my final lift.  I was going to play it safe, but he gave me much higher numbers to pick from.  And with one pull, no hitches, it all came together.  It was just like hitting a game winning buzzer beater from half court...without the post game dog pile, thank goodness.

A big, huge congratulations to all of my Barn Crew and coach on some freakin' great lifting!  And even bigger thank you for making this day one of a kind! 



      


 

Game Plan

"If you are prepared, you will be confident, and you will do the job." Tom Landry

I have spent a lot of time drawing up game plans; all the x's and o's, on scraps of paper, napkins, and even courtside on the floor.  I could break down the strengths and weakness of every player on the floor.  In a split second, I could identify what was going to happen when the ball was inbounded after a time out...just by watching the players return to the floor.  The player with her head down...that was the one that lacked confidence and would either be a decoy or completely out of the play.  The two that came back on the floor discussing what went on during the time out...the one talking is your shooter while the one listening is your screener.  The quiet, wide-eyed player...that is your in-bounder that is repeating to herself, "do not turn the ball over".  And the one that runs back on the floor and immediately takes her position, that is your point guard...your confident leader.

Hopefully, everyone understands a little about basketball...otherwise, that probably didn't make a lot of sense.  But that was my job as a head coach, to prepare my players for a game that lasted forty minutes.  Five players versus five players. 

This weekend it is my job to prepare myself...for a game against myself.  And I have to say, although I am getting better at it, it is not an easy thing to accomplish.  Five on five with a bench full of subs is a lot easier!  Between powerlifting and strongman competitions, there have been plenty of times when I wish I had a time out so I could get my game back on track.  But in these two sports, I really don't think asking for a time out would be well received.     

This weekend my game plan is in place:  I have actually taken most of the week to deload, so I am well rested, my personal goals are set and include PR's in two of my lifts (a third would just be icing on the cake), and the plan to reach those two very attainable PR's is done.  But we all know that game plans sometimes go right out the window before the game even starts.  So, my main goal is to start strong on the very first lift, focus on each lift individually, and don't spend time over-thinking...just attack each one, make adjustments as necessary, and hit some big numbers!

Regardless of the outcome, as long as I come out a stronger and more mentally tough athlete...then my job is done.  And finally, and most importantly...I am going to have fun!!!

Time to pack up and hit the road! 

   

History Lesson: Part 1

I still remember the first time I opened up about my past, my life growing up.  And I remember the horrified look on my best friend's face as I shared several stories.  Having a pair of sewing scissors thrown at you from five feet away and landing point first in your chest typically gets the best reaction.  I was give or take 9 years old.

This is but one small incident that happened behind the doors of my middle class, suburban, "perfect" home.  Hell, the only thing we were missing was the white picket fence.  But before I dive into my not so perfect childhood, let me go back a bit further.

I was adopted at the ripe old age of two and a half weeks old.  My birth mother was one of five children, four of which were still living at home.  She was 17 years old at the time, 5'4", 125lbs, brown hair, brown eyes, and a high school graduate.  She was described as quiet and artistic.  My birth father was 21, also a high school grad, but 6'4", 180, brown hair and blue eyes.  If I had to guess, I look just like him.  Oh and did I mention that he loved basketball?  He was a truck driver and she worked at a department store.  The two dated for a year and half and had discussed marriage, but  when he moved to a new city, the long distance relationship did not last.  And I was given up for adoption at birth.

I was born "June Marie"...I am thankful that my name was changed to something a lot less southern.  That was a joke.  Although, I do wonder if that was a family name.  In the south at that time, most people with the name June would have been grandparents...it was definitely not from my generation.  Or it could have just been that June was the month in which I was born.  The name June means "young", and the name Marie...and this is relatively funny, means "bitter", so it could actually be solely based on a simply description of herself.  I could speculate forever on this but will never actually know unless I ask my birth mother in person.

I requested and received all this information from Volunteers of America exactly one month after I stopped drinking.  And it still remains just a letter.  In other words, I have not decided what to do with the information.  Just enjoy it as is...a little insight into my past.  Or attempt to make contact with the family I never knew.  I grew up convinced that my adopted parents were my family...done deal.  At a young age, who needs two sets of parents telling you what to do anyway?!  But now that I face my problems and issues, that originated in my childhood, I take a slightly different point of view.  With that said, I also respect the family that gave me up, whatever their reason for doing so, and in no way want to intrude upon or in their lives today. 

So for now, a story with no ending.  





  

Rebuilding: One Rep at a Time

Getting involved in strongman competition was one of the best things I ever did. I love every minute of it, from simply getting stronger, to learning techniques, and even starting from scratch with a simple movement. For me, it is the drive to overcome and the desire to be better at this sport.

I can't say that I haven't hit a level of frustration in having to re-learn the simple things. I mean who wouldn't at times. But I have hit a point where I know it is going to happen...having to retrain my body and mind to a more efficient and effective technique in order to keep moving up in weight.

When I competed in CrossFit, I taught myself a ton of bad habits. I was big for a CrossFit athlete and the weights back then were typically light, so I muscled through WODs with little to no technique at all. Gymnastics movements, such as handstand push-ups and muscle-ups, were just starting to become a part of competition and Olympic lifting was still a year or so away from making its grand entrance.  If you don't believe me, check out the results from the 2009 Games, where female athletes failed on the handstand push-up WOD, future Games champ Iceland Annie had not yet learned how to do muscle-ups and in fact, hit her first one at that competition, and the average snatch was only 95lbs.

In comparison, I am fairly average in size for a strongwoman competitor and I am sure as hell not able to muscle through heavy events without technique.  My coach and I have spent hours of gym time rebuilding my squat, which was without question my weakest movement, and yet so essential for strongman...and obviously powerlifting.  So now with a stronger base, and one that still needs to get stronger, I begin to tackle the power jerk.  It is something I am in desperate need of for my October competition, and overwhelmingly proved to be a weak spot for me out in California.  I spent so many years doing a push press off my toes that now I am having to rebuild this movement from the ground up, literally. 

And it is kind of funny, even when I workout alone in my garage, I can hear my coach, Jill, in my head saying "that one was better" and on the very next rep "not that one".  One day down the road, I swear I will get her to say those were both good reps.  It may only happen once, but it will happen.       

   

Early Thoughts on Sobriety

Just about a year ago, and around five and a half months into my sobriety, I was asked to start keeping a handwritten journal about my day or what I was thinking on that day.  I remember, at the time, my response was...that's the dumbest idea ever.  I am way to old for this shit.  And as much as I hated it at the time, it served as a great learning tool.  Recently, I opened it back up and read some of it...the two following entries were typed up as originally written.  Both are similar in the fact that I was searching for answers and meaning in regards to what I was going through...in addition to the under lying theme "is it really worth it".  Was it worth it?  Yes, sobriety is worth every damn step.   

No date:  “The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself.” Mark Twain 

What does lonely feel like to me?  In the last four months, I have done two of the most difficult things in my life: 1. I asked for help 2. I gave up drinking.  Both are things that I never thought I would see or experience in my lifetime.  In the process, I have opened myself up to so many new thoughts and feeling but have lost the one thing that has been helping me deal with all of these things since I was a kid.  My perfect world of understanding – however skewed it may have been - has crashed down on me and buried me in a thick pile of shit.  And as I try to re-establish any sense of understanding – however small or large – I find myself unsure and uncomfortable with the new me and this re-directed way of thinking.  There was the old me – held together by super glue.  No one could see the cracks and if part broke would be easy to reassemble – the glue was always handy.  Or that piece would be swept under the rug and replaced.  Now, I am held together with cheap crappy Office Depot tape that needs a small miracle to hold anything together and exposes obvious damage. 

No date:  “It’s not the load that breaks you down; it’s the way you carry it.” Lena Horne 

Asking for help is completely against my nature.  It shows weakness, vulnerability, a fault, an imperfection.  I have faults and imperfections but I am not about to let everyone know about them.  When I am faced with an obstacle, I figure the shit out and overcome – typically by myself – without help.  As a kid I taught myself the basics of hygiene, how to shoot a basketball, how to play the role of a dumb jock and do less school work.  You name it.  It’s survival of the fittest right?  Find your niche and become the best at it.  Lifting something heavy constitutes asking for help – heavy as impossible to move on your own.  Where there is a will there is a way – problem solving 101.  Can others ask for help?  Of course.  Are they weak if they do? Absolutely not.  So what is the difference in the way I see myself?  It is an expectation.  I was self taught as far back as I can remember – I think back then it was referred to as independence – aka leave mom and dad alone and figure it out on your own.  Something caused me to stop asking a long time ago.  It is definitely a trait I don’t think will ever change – although I never thought I would stop drinking either.      

Capital of Texas Open

Next weekend I am headed to Austin, Texas for the USPA Capital of Texas Open, my third full powerlifting meet.  We will have a pretty good group headed up from San Antonio to represent Jill Mills' training, including a chunk of the Barn Crew.  I truly enjoy this sport and the challenges it presents, even though you are required to wear a singlet (worst idea in the history of sport's uniforms).

Since I have been concentrating more on strongman competitions, this meet will be more of a test to see where I am on my lifts.  I have remained pretty consistent on my bench, I hope to go a lot bigger on the deadlift, and it is always hit or miss as to whether my squat will show up or not.  But if it does, my goal is to go over 200lbs.  Yes, I am one of those that can bench as much as I squat.  But considering where I started with my squat, over 200 would be a big accomplishment.

My other reason for choosing to compete in this meet is to work on becoming stronger mentally. During my last meet, I put myself in a position where I had to repeat my opening weight on my very first lift...something I have never experienced.  I was shifting my weight really bad to one side, which I used to do all the time in Crossfit in attempt to avoid using an injured knee.  Now, there is really no reason for it except for a lack of focus on my form.  The squat issue then lead to me missing a lift on the bench...my butt came up on a fairly easy weight...again nothing but a lack of focus on my part. And finally, on my second deadlift, the weight was loaded improperly...5lbs or so heavier on one side.  At this point, there was nothing else I could do but laugh.  I was finally relaxed and not over or under thinking things and pulled an easy 315 on my final deadlift.

BUT the main reason I am going to Austin is to see my Barn Crew training partner, Rich, lift in a singlet.  Just kidding!!!  I can not wait to see everyone lift...some for the first time in a meet! Surrounded by a great group of friends, we will all have a good day and represent ourselves and our coach well!...no matter what anyone looks like in a singlet. 

Blinders

When your drunk all the time, you lose sight of what your loved ones see you go through every day. Just like the ponies at the track that wear blinders, you have one sole purpose: to strategically get from one drink to the next without distraction.  Most of my excessive drinking was done at home, especially the worse it got.  But on the days that I had to be somewhere, I had already mapped out convenient stops along the way to refresh my beverage of choice and consume most of it in my car. 

One thing that it is important to note is this: I was a lifelong drinker.  So when I did go out to eat or chill at a bar, it was not uncommon for me to go through 12-18 beers at one sitting and be able to walk out like I was sober.  That was just average for me.  At my worst, I would wake up in the morning and finish a six pack for breakfast.  Or I would mix a vodka drink in a 32oz plastic cup, and be on my second one in a matter of minutes. 

However, as a functioning alcoholic, people that do not see you on a daily basis rarely have any inclination as to how bad it really is.  Any addiction is a cause for concern to someone close to you, if they know it IS truly an addiction, but talking to an addict about how much they consume can go in one ear and out the other pretty easily...especially if they are functional throughout the day.  But when you see those words in writing and truly feel what they were or are also feeling...well, then it becomes something different.  For me, it was more of an eye opener as to how bad things really were. 

After losing my job as a collegiate Head Basketball Coach:
“She sat on the couch for six months and drank.  She was not drinking beer though; instead, she was drinking vodka along with other hard liquor.  After six months of that I told her to get off the couch and get a job.  She resented me for making her do it.” 

Once I admitted that I felt like my body was shutting down (at this point, about once a month or so I would be so sick that I wouldn't get out of bed for days at a time...but as soon as I felt better it was right back to drinking): 
“…she began to experience high levels of anxiety and physical illness.  She soon became a person I did not even recognize.  I kept trying to convince her to get some help.  I knew of a therapist who dealt with alcoholism, and I tried to connect them on more than one occasion.  But, she was not ready for help.”

Approximately six months prior to hanging up the bottle:
“(She) was just not getting better, mentally or physically.  She started to miss work regularly, and I would literally drive home from school wondering if I would find her dead or alive.  I was worried that the combination of her physical and mental condition was serious enough to take its ultimate toll on her, or that she just might take her own life.”

Clean and sober:
“(She) has been the biggest inspiration to me, as she has now been sober (with no relapses) for 15 months.  Her internal strength provides the foundation for my will to stay sober.  I also never want to let her down or cause her to relapse. “

Personally, I like the last one the best.

You Can't Save Everyone

I coached college basketball for a number of years.  I started at my alma mater, University of Dallas, where I helped out with both the basketball and volleyball programs...while I took a year off from school.  From there, I was a graduate assistant for two years, under two very successful college coaches, in Memphis, TN and Gettysburg, PA.  After one season in Gettysburg, I was offered my first head coaching job which landed me right here in south Texas, and in the same conference that I played in.

In my six seasons, I had numerous players pass through my program...hell, my first full recruiting class included about twenty-five freshmen.  Some came and went, usually when they found out that they were not going to get any playing time, while others stuck around for the full four years.  I had a great group of "kids", as I would call them, during my coaching years.  And I earned every grey hair that they put on my head.

I had every type of player and type of personality you could imagine.  I had kids that grew up in the sticks, military kids, rich kids, and the kids that were independently putting themselves through school.  I had ones that were academically brilliant, natural leaders, natural athletes as well as the ones that struggled in school or on the court.  And of course, I had trouble makers...from the ones that get caught doing something stupid on a dare to the ones that are always in trouble for one thing or another.  But I always stood up for my players regardless of their situation.

I was in a staff meeting one week when our athletic director made it known to all the coaches that the players that stay in trouble aren't worth your time...or as he stated, "you can't save everyone".  He was making this statement based on one of my players that had been caught with paraphernalia in her car by campus security.  He went on to say that we should just let those players go...or I think he used the words "move on".

I was appalled.  Yes, I was a young coach and he had many more years of experience than I did, but did he really just indirectly tell me to throw this kid back while she is obviously crying for help?!  So I did what any good coach would do.  I stuck by her side.  She was a good student, very talented ball player, and was just in need of a little help at that time in her life.  So, I was there when she needed a ride to meetings, when she showed up bloody and beat up for an early morning practice, through every requirement of her probation, and even dropping the fifteen pounds she gained over one summer from partying. 

In four years, I saw this player at her best and worst...I got to see her grow up right in front of me.  Some players stood up for her, even when she pissed them off, and others would have rather seen me kick her off the team.  But for better or worse, by her senior season she had cleaned herself up and became one of the best forwards I ever coached.

As the quote goes, "everyone has a story...don't judge others before you truly know them."...or something along those lines.  She is now happily married with a family and I am proud to have been a part of her life, if only for four years. 

Moral of the story...you may not be able to save everyone, obviously, but that does not mean that you don't give it a shot when the opportunity arrises.  And don't listen to the advise of another person that has a complete disconnect with the young adults in his/her own program.  And finally, take plenty of psychology classes before jumping into coaching. :)

  

A Day in the Life

What do I do on a normal day?  Just in case anyone was wondering...

I lead a pretty simple and mostly normal life...so, I just realized this may be a boring blog.  I typically get up around 5:30am, 7am is sleeping in for me, and take my usually sore body to the kitchen to fix breakfast.  I will take my plate full of waffles and protein shake outside to the patio where I watch the sun come up with my pup Killian.  By the way, I stick to a simple breakfast, toaster or microwave use only, so I don't have to worry about burning the house down so early in the morning.  I will typically enjoy a cigar while I get updated on anything important in the news or on Facebook...and I occasionally check my e-mail.

By 6:30, I will jump in the shower and get ready for work.  On the average day, I might encounter my wet work clothes still waiting to be dried, missing car keys or phone, no Big Red Zero in the fridge to take to work which means a stop at the Valero on the way, and always two pouty Boston Terriers and one Doberman that looks at me with her sweet, sad eyes like I am never coming back.

So, I work approximately four miles from my house and I can never get there on time despite being up before the sun rises.  I get distracted easily...what can I say?  I work part-time in a labor intensive job, my un-official title is Head Grunt, which can last anywhere from four hours to six or seven.  And I do work on the weekends.  Working in retail has its good and ugly side just like any other job, but for the most part I do enjoy it.  I spent years as a manager for this same company, and am extremely greatful that I don't have to deal with that side of the job any more.

Once I am off work, I make a mad dash for home to eat something before I work out.  On tuesday and thursday, I drive about fifteen minutes down the road to work out with my wonderful coach.  **tomorrow is leg day thus the reason for the word "wonderful" ;)  She successfully kicks my ass on my heavy lifting/strongman training days, and the drive home is usually a blur of "what the hell just happened".  On monday and friday, I typically workout alone in one of two of my garage gyms doing accessory work and cardio type crap.  Can you tell I dislike cardio?!  I use wednesday and saturday as my rest days mainly because my biggest ass kickers happen on thursday (squats and deadlifts) and sunday (event training), both of which I want to be as well rested for as possible.  And then sunday is event training day with my Barn Crew...the best day of the week!  There are four to six of us who will meet at the barn, yes it is an actual barn, and go head to head with the heavy weights...all while getting some great coaching!

Post workout includes dinner, a cigar, a soccer game with Killian, and a relaxing time on the back patio...unless its sunday in which I am usually to tired to do anything but sleep.  On my days off from work, I usually go to work at least one of those days to play catch up, and the other is reserved for the maid service...which would be me.  I do have a yard guy though!

And that my friends is my day in a nutshell.  In my drunken days, this would have been a much shorter blog.  It would have simply stated drinking and sitting on my ass.  What a difference a year and almost a half can make!  
            

Behind the Laughter

For the last few days, as you have noticed, I have not been blogging.  I was in a funk, as I like to call it, and writing is the last thing I want to do.  Actually, thinking is the last thing I want to do, but you do have to think to be able to write.  It is on these days that I battle depression and typically my mind won't stop thinking about my life's failures.  It can be caused by an array of things, but pretty sure this time around it had to do with taking a hit to my self-esteem...actually several back to back.  I was dealing with feeling completely worthless and un-wanted to a degree.  I didn't sleep, I didn't eat much, I would get irritated easily, and obviously I didn't write.  I had completely shut down.  But all it took to bounce back was a good workout with my barn crew and several e-mail exchanges/text with a good friend and someone who believes in me.

Depression is a pretty devastating thing…it can put you straight on your ass at any given moment.  For me, personally, I describe it as falling into an abyss, where you are surrounded by darkness and can not or are unable to find a way to the surface.  It is a battle that I have fought since childhood and covered up with alcohol, smoking, and lots of laughter...if not laughter at least a few fake smiles here and there.  Now days, and I am not ashamed to admit, that I do take meds to help me out on a daily basis...but they are not fool proof as proven by the last few days.      

As a child, my parents instilled in me a sort of unattainable perfectionism.  The underlying expectation was to be the best at everything all the time, from education, to music, to even the smallest of household chores.  My outlet was Saturday morning cartoons, Scooby-Doo and the Smurfs, where a fantasy land of mistakes and imperfections did exist.  My other means of escape was sports.  My parents did not understand the ins and outs of most sports so the expectations were minimal at best.  It was the only time I was allowed to make mistakes yet still be applauded for the effort.  That sense of perfectionism still drives me today, for better and worse, and can be seen in various ways in my job at work as well as in my new passions of powerlifting and strongman.  Although I do know that being perfect at something is a great stretch of the imagination, I still find myself in search of it.  And failure, although it is to be expected, is not an option.   

While depression is not easy for anyone to admit battling, it is better than to pretend it does not exist. 
To suffer in silence, which I can not claim I have not done before, can lead to the end of all endings.  And, yes, I have faced that too.  But there is and will not be an ending to this story any time soon...unless I get crushed by the 200lb atlas stone that I also battle.