"The Long Run"

Last night I was tagged in a post on Facebook by a person I met back in 2009 at the CrossFit regional competition.  She was my judge for the first event...a miserable row and thruster WOD.  She, Pam, is pictured on the right and obviously, I am rowing.  And yes, I had ass white legs back then too.

Pam had tagged me in her blog entitled "Someone Who Inspires Me".  I was absolutely speechless and floored, but at the same time I could not stop thinking...wow, I have been called inspiring.  I have been called a lot of things and most are far from inspiring.  But her kind words really touched my heart, yes I do have a sensitive side and don't tell anyone!

So today, I started thinking...I have written blogs about the people that have gotten me through some really rough times, but have not even mentioned the numerous books, blogs, and my x-large puppy, Killian, that all played a roll in my first weeks of becoming sober.  I will have to save Killian for a separate blog, but I will say the compassion of my four legged friend is something no human could have provided. 

Going through the recovery process is not something that I was familiar with...I did not have any friends at the time that I could to turn to...mainly to ask questions like why is this happening, or why do I feel this way, or what the hell is going on.  So, I turned to books about anything and everything relating to alcohol addiction and recovery.  From celebrity books, to boring research studies, to one written by Mishka Shubaly, a relatively unknown writer at the time.  From his Facebook page:  "He writes true stories about drink, drugs, disasters, desire, deception and their aftermath. His work has been praised for its grit, humor, fearlessness and heart. 'The Long Run,' his mini-memoir detailing his transformation from alcoholic drug abuser to sober ultrarunner is one of the best-selling Kindle Singles to date."

 

His memoir alone helped me understand and come to terms with a lot of things that were happening in my life.  In other words, I could relate to it...and I highly recommend his story over any of the others that I read.  I don't know the guy personally and he sure doesn't need my plug to help him out...but if you know someone going through the recovery process, it is worth the read. 

 

    

My Worst Day Sober

Who ever started the phrase, "my worst day sober is better than my best day drunk" was obviously not a functional alcoholic.  Maybe a holiday binge drinker at best.  Either way, this phrase is completely untrue for me.  Remember, I was a professional when it came to drinking all day, partying till all hours, and living a drunk lifestyle that most people would never admit to...and in my lifetime, I have had some damn good drunk days!  But on the downside of things, there was a "worst day sober"...

Everybody has experienced a “worst” day so far to date.  At some point, each one of us has encountered something that we wish would have never happened, something we wish we could have fixed, changed, or made right.  The loss of a loved one, a divorce, failing to get into college, breaking something dear to you, the spectrum here is endless.  Maybe we don’t regret the experience per say or even desire to fix it, but instead have learned and grown from it.  Or maybe it just remains in the back of our mind, a reminder of what could have been or what once was. 

In my humble opinion, human life is the single greatest thing bestowed on us.  Whatever one believes as to how and why it happens is of no significance here, a case study in religion is better left for…well, not me.  Now for me an utter disregard for human life is nearly incomprehensible.  We are given something so beautiful, a blank canvas to develop and nurture; life is a continuous learning experience, a fascinating growth process both inside and out.  So why would someone even consider bringing an end to it, life that is.  What is so important that takes precedence over living?  It is almost mind numbing to think that anyone would contemplate an abrupt end to their life….…but it happens.

I have never feared death…although I will admit that somewhere along the way I developed a fear of flying.  I live life with the philosophy that the fat lady could sing at any moment, ready or not.  I could walk out of the house right now and get hit by a car.  I have also never sat and contemplated death except when I was forced to read various philosophical views in college.  It will happen soon enough why waste time thinking and worrying about it.  Shit, after some of the things I have done in my life I am sometimes surprised it hasn’t happened already. 

During one of my first sober months, I found myself in MY worst possible scenario.  I became THAT person; the one who contemplates taking THAT step…the permanent solution, the way out, the quick escape.  I had no concern for my own life…zero.  Looking back on that day, I am not even sure what led me to that place mentally, to the single moment in time where I contemplated such a cowardly action.  I do know that I truly believed that I had ruined my life by abusing alcohol and there was nothing left for a failure like me.  There were, what could be considered, external factors that contributed to my mental state, such as fatigue, new medication, a longer than normal day at work.  But none of those should have led me to sitting in my car at the corner store actually attempting to formulate a plan.  Thoughts consumed my mind.  I felt like I had lost all control.  I felt helpless, mentally not physically.  I was overcome by thoughts of how to end my life.  I had an hour of free time, a knife in my car, gun at home, an overpass to jump off less than three miles away, plenty of places…but again one hour to decide and execute and no one to talk me down off the ledge, no pun intended.

It appeared as though today was my day…the fat lady was warming up and there was nothing I could do.  I could not put a thought in my head other than the end.  My mind was a runaway train careening off the track.  I had never experienced such an overwhelming feeling and sure as hell didn’t know how to stop something I could not gain control over.  I sat and cried because I had failed…at life and the process of living it was no longer a concern.  Undecided on an action to take or a plan to follow, I noticed through my tears that my free hour was up. I started the car and headed home to change for a concert that evening.  I was mentally exhausted but all of the sudden it was over.  I was able to refocus all my negative thoughts and concentrate on the present, what I needed to do and where I had to be.  I had successfully survived, literally, the worst hour of my life.  All those thoughts gone in a moment’s notice…with a sincere hope they do not ever return. 

The problem I now face…I felt no fear.  It is a piece of the puzzle I had hoped to never find…more or less hoping that it would be lost forever.  Usually thoughts that even remotely resemble these scare me to death, but for the first time I did not blink at the thought of taking my own life.  I don’t really know what turned that switch on and besides a deadline of sorts; I do not know how it turned off so abruptly.  Now I wait…will the fearlessness, that has only begun to exist, and lack of concern for human life reappear like two trains in a head on collision or will they simply fade away.

Until Next Time CA

Things I learned in Cali:
1. Big Red is a gum...not a soda.
2. Athletic tape actually sticks and you won't sweat it off.
3. The further North you go...the beaches are even more beautiful.
4. 60 degree weather in the morning is awesome!
5. Parking is a premium and you could probably make some good money off selling your space.
6. The weights are NOT lighter on the west coast. :)
7. The best cigar bar ever is in La Mesa.

On a more serious note, this was an amazing trip...all made possible by true friends. My one of a kind coach, Jill Mills, who pushed me to be bigger and better inside and out.  Kristin & Donnie Rhodes who talked me into coming out here to compete and then opened up their home to me and other competitors.  Their passion for strongman and woman is absolutely incredible...and has been passed on to their own kids in their respective sports.  Of course without my long time friend Mama Peeler, I would not have been able to get here in the first place. And the unconditional love and support from home...the only words I have for that is I love you!!!!

As I sit here with my donuts, coke zero, and last cigar, I can't help but think about the entire weekend and what it took to get here and everything that I am taking home with me.  The possibilities are endless with lots of hard work! Nothing comes easy and I can not wait to get back in the gym to see what I can accomplish next!  I have made great strides since starting this sport in March and do not plan on giving in any time in the near or distant future.

Again thank you to everyone for the love and support you have shown me!  It only makes me want to work even harder, get better, and master my weaknesses in order to become a more complete competitor.  And I will do so one step at a time!

And FYI, I better have a cigar and Big Red Zero waiting for me at the airport! :)

Now off to pack up and head home!

Commit & Conquer

"TODAY is YOUR day!
Your MOUNTAIN is waiting.
so...GET ON YOUR WAY!
- Dr. Seuss

"Our true character is that person we become when no one is watching"

I am a kid at heart so I had to start my blog today with a Dr. Seuss quote.  This weekend is my "mountain"...my chance to take yet another step in my journey of recovery.  I have overcome a lot in a year and five months...not without struggle at times, but yet I have managed to fight through the obstacles, break through barriers, and knock down some walls in search of the real me; the one that doesn't need beer and alcohol.

Today I travel alone, but I take with me all that I have learned in the last seventeen months.  From all the lessons on how to live life again, discussions on what actually is important, and the love and kindness shown to me from old and new friends alike...to exploring new passions and pursuing dreams that I never thought I would see in my lifetime.  Who knew one simple decision last March would change my life in so many ways...for the better.

A BIG thank you to Mama Peeler for making this trip happen!  Brooke who has been my backbone since 2002 and day one of this journey, even though we both laughed when I said "I am done drinking".  My coach, Jill, who continually makes me push beyond what I think is even possible...every damn day.  My strongman Barn Crew...I will hear you cheering from long distance!  And to all those that have inspired me to become a better person and lifter (there are so many, I will have to save that for another blog)...thank you!

As I once heard a wise person say..."Commit and Conquer".  And this I will.    

Almost time to do work!

California is just three short days away...and the Strongwoman contest five even shorter days.  I have spent the last two days tweaking little things, working on timing, and still fixing bad habits that CrossFit helped to create.  But it is all for the better as I am still learning. 

This will be my first heavy lifting competition since my very first one back in March, Texas Strongest Man.  Back then, and I say that with a smile on my face because it was really only five months ago, I entered not knowing what the hell I was doing.  But now, I am way more prepared and have expectations for myself for each event. 

The events are as follows:

Max axle clean and press: three attempts with weight starting at 135lbs
I am not really worried about getting out-lifted in this event because I know there are much stronger athletes.  My personal goal is to hit my three attempts and possibly set a PR. 
Last Woman Standing Deadlift: with weight starting at 275lbs and a 22lb increase every round
Again there will be bigger deadlifts than mine.  What used to be a strength in the world of CrossFit is actually a weakness for me in the strongman/powerlifting world...mainly because I have had to work my ass off to play catch-up on my squat that I neglected for two years.  The goal...walk up to the bar and pick up the weight.  Simple as that.
550lb tire flip for 50ft: 60 sec time limit
It is just what it says and if I can walk after the deadlift, I will be a happy camper.
Medley: 90 sec time limit...carry a 150lb keg 50ft, log clean and press at 120lb x5, drag a heavy ass sled 50ft, 12" deadlift at 275lb x5
This thing is brutal!  I have put in some time on this one and there is no plan but to finish.  In other words, just go and don't stop moving.
Stones: 48" platform and stones at 110/150/170/200/230 with a 60 sec time limit
I have battled against the stones since the first time I started training...and the freakin rock usually wins.  I have finally started to put together a proper technique and just hope it makes an appearance on Saturday.  I think those damn things owe me one.

This competition is a big challenge for me, in more than one way.  But I would not have entered it if I didn't think I was up for the challenge.  I may or may not be the best at the end of the day, but I will not be denied giving it all I have in every event.  And I will have the beat up body to prove it :)

 

Support System

 

I am not a big believer in group therapy, such as AA.  I did not use it nor will I promote it, although I do believe that some people may benefit from it.  It is just my choice and I know I do not respond well to various people that I do not know patting me on the back, praying for me, or giving me advise on life.  In fact, put me in a group of people and I will either not say a damn thing or I will be the one to crack all the jokes at the wrong time or just be an asshole.  So, I chose to attack my alcoholic problems by myself, but not without a handful of people, new friends and old, that have come into my life at exactly the right time.  I was not naïve in the fact that I did know I needed some help.  Where was it going to come from? That was the question that time would answer.    

My best friend has always been there for me.  She knows me better than I know myself, and knows what to say when…from letting me crash and burn when needed, to picking me up.  There is no way in the world I could have undertaken this enormous task without the support of the one constant in my life.  If you are one of those people that have to deal with a loved one with an addiction, I can honestly say, for my situation, it was handled 100% in the correct manner.  I had to decide for myself that it was time to quit, and after twenty plus years of drinking, no one ever saw it coming from me.  There was no push, no intervention, no dumping out bottles, no I am going to walk away if you don’t quit situations.  It was me and my decision.  Although it was needed, for my health and sanity, I was allowed to do it on my terms.  Even though “my terms” was originally a bet to see how long it would actually last.  And I would be the first to tell you, it won’t.  I had made that critical decision more than once in my life and failed, but on one morning in particular…I would not fail.  In addition, I have never had to ask for support, its just there…all the time.  This person is the essential part of any recovery program, whether it be a best friend, family member, co-worker...as long as it is someone who truly knows the real you.

I began therapy before I quit drinking to deal with the issues that caused me to drown myself in alcohol in the first place.  Prior to my first session, I chugged three 16oz beers just to calm my nerves and be able to open up a little bit.  My second session, I was wasted.  I started drinking at 8am, my appointment was at 2pm and kept drinking the rest of the day.  She had no idea…that shows you right there how “functional” I really was as an alcoholic.  And it was not her first day on the job by any means.  By my third session I had sobered up for good, and began to do work.  She has single handedly helped me through some extreme rough points in my early months of sobriety.  From depression, to thoughts of suicide, to anger, to being a failure, to piecing my life back together one day at a time…she has heard it all and provided me with countless solutions and ways to get through each scenario.  I can say that without a doubt, I would not have made it this far without her.    

As with any type of addiction recovery, you are always encouraged to find something to do, something you love and have a passion for…a distraction, a release, whatever you want to call it.  Mine had always been sports and lifting.  I played basketball, soccer and volleyball in college and turned to CrossFit in 2008 as a means to stay in shape and feel that competitive edge again.  I competed in the CrossFit Games in 2009 in Aromas as an individual and regional competition in 2010 with a team.  By this time, I had minor injuries that were keeping me from being 100% all the time, so I hung it up as a competitor and turned to the only thing I knew would help, beer.  As my drinking got worse, I walked away from any and all things athletic shortly after that competition.  I began to realize that I needed to get my shit together and being around the gym where I was no longer competitive was not helping.  To me, it was seeing failure first hand day in and out.  So I drank more.

The first day I decided to attack a morning workout, sober, was the first day of the rest of my life.  I could feel that passion deep inside and had to find a way to pull it out.  I spent several months doing things on my own and researching every thing I could about powerlifting.  I knew I could rebuild my bench press to be respectable and I love to deadlift.  The third element of powerlifting is the squat, and in my mind, two outta three wasn’t bad.  Injuries had kept me from squatting for quit a while and I really had no desire to ever squat again. 

As with anything competitive, I hit a point where I need a coach, someone to teach me the ins and outs of the sport, critique me, and best of all kick me in the ass.  I have had some great young coaches in my athletic career and the best ones always pulled things out of me by doing just that.  So, I did my research.  I found the best of the best when it came to competitive and knowledgeable women in lifting and shot her an e-mail.  I’m not gonna lie the quick response kind of scared me a little bit.  I set up an appointment to discuss my goals and show her where I was in my three lifts.  In one session, I learned that I need to tweak my bench form, no problem there, my deadlift form was horrible, and I had no leg strength.  Years of not squatting because of injury had turned my squat to shit, which I was well aware of, as well as my deadlift.  But after one session I was hooked.  It was simply her passion for lifting and her passion to teach…and her ability to kick me in the ass from day one.  Long story short, I had found a person that was going to keep me on my path to recovery, even though she had no idea. 

I could have easily walked away from the challenge that I was about to undertake, but that is not me, not how I operate.  Challenge me to a drinking competition and I would have never backed down.  Challenge me to get stronger and become a better lifter…I am not backing down from that either.                  

So all in all, this was and still is my support system.  Adding to this list, I received a huge amount of support from several co-workers through my hardest moments.  Not many have a boss/friend that was as understanding and supportive as mine.  I was extremely lucky in this department.  The simple fact that I have some of the most caring and supportive co-workers is beyond what I can write or say about them.  When I was at rock bottom, they still showed me love and support.  It is important to note that these are not people that I met overnight, most had known me for years.   

And I can not forget the friends from near and far, old and new who sent me messages of support.  They always made me smile on days when I needed it most.  I still battle issues with anger, frustration, and depression, although they are a lot less frequent, and deal with those moments as they happen.  But my life without alcohol has been amazing to say the least.  I am alive…physically and mentally and extremely appreciative of everyone and everything that has gotten me this far in my new journey. 

Overcoming Fears

So, yes, I have a fear of flying.  I don't mind getting on scary rides at amusement parks, I have been skydiving, and will pretty much do anything for the thrill of it...except fly.  Every time I drive by the airport I hope that it will spontaneously combust.  And with every day that passes, I get a little more nervous about my flight on Thursday. 

Since I started working out again, I have overcome my fear of ripping my knees apart by squatting again, thanks to my wonderful coach and learning how to squat properly.  And just yesterday, I hit another milestone by snatching 100lbs.  No, 100lbs is not a lot of weight, but attempting a 100lb snatch back in '09 is where I first started having knee issues.  So late last night, I loaded the bar and landed it...after trying to talk myself out of it about three times.  It wasn't pretty but I stood up with the weight none the less.

Oh and did I mention that I have overcome my fear of living life without a beer buzz.  Yes, that has happened too.  And I am loving every minute of my sober life!  Even as a I type this, I feel like I have been run over by a semi after my leg workout...but still loving it! 

So what is up with getting on an airplane?  I know my fear began just after grad school.  I was on a flight back from Baltimore, where I had spent the weekend defending my master's thesis...I think in 2001 or so.  The plane landed in Atlanta and all flights that ran through Houston had been cancelled because of massive flooding in the area.  The next morning I boarded the last leg of the flight and as we got closer to Houston we were diverted around more storms.  Around that time, the plane hit some turbulence and it felt like we dropped about eight feet.  That was the end of my sober flying experience.  Ever since then I have been buzzed or completely wasted on every flight...until now.

This time is different.  There is no alcohol to disguise my fear.  I am venturing out on this trip alone which means that I can not attach myself to a friend like a spider monkey.  And don't think I haven't thought up ways to get kicked off.  But I am committed to this competition and getting my ass to San Diego...in one piece.  Whatever it takes, I WILL get on the plane.  Maybe there will be a professional fighter on with me...one head shot and I will be out like a light!  Wishful thinking :)