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!!!
Sunday, October 27, 2013
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.
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