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.

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 :)