Birthday Love

I have a confession to make:  I am a birthday fanatic.  I absolutely LOVE birthdays.  January 8th is by far my favorite day of the year.  I love the way everything feels special, everyone is extra nice to you, and for one day, it's okay to be completely self-centered... because hey, it's your birthday, and it's all about YOU!  I've always been a birthday freak.  In elementary school, I used to get super bummed that my birthday was during Christmas break because I didn't get to bring cupcakes to school like all of the other kids... so every year, on the first day of school after break, I would bring cupcakes and make everyone wish me a happy birthday before I would share.  That way I got TWO birthdays.  In college, the entire month of January was my birthday month, giving me an excuse to party even more than usual for 1/12 of the year.  I've had any number of ridiculously elaborate themed birthday parties, a few killer surprise parties, and, most recently, my 30th birthday bar crawl blow-out.  What can I say?  I. LOVE. BIRTHDAYS.

This year's birthday was extra special, because it marked the one-year anniversary of the beginning of my epic transformation.  I wanted to celebrate in a big way, to commemorate the incredible 365 days that had passed since  I decided my life needed to change.  However, seeing as how it was my 31st birthday, I figured I was getting a bit old to host a boozy blow-out or over-the-top party.  So I decided to tone it down this year: a simple dinner date with my husband to celebrate being another year older and another year more badass.  Seems appropriate for 31, right?

Well, appropriate sucks.  As my birthday got closer, I was totally regretting my lack of  celebratory plans.  I was scheduled to work on the night of January 7th, and it was a ridiculously horrible night... the ER had a line out the door all night, the acuity was high,  and I went through my entire twelve-hour shift without have a chance to pee, sit, or stop moving... much less celebrate the day of my birth with my coworkers.  (Although I would like to give a shout-out to one especially nice fellow RN who managed to serenade me with the birthday song at midnight, right between helping with a chest tube insertion and shipping someone out via helicopter... thanks, buddy).  Needless to say, this was NOT an acceptable way to begin my favorite day of the year.  By the time I left work, I had been 31 for more than 7.5 hours; only a few people had wished me a happy birthday, only one person had sang to me, and not a single person had jumped out of a cake.  NOT OKAY.

Feeling completely bummed out by this series of events, I dragged my exhausted body to the car and considered heading home to crash... I was way too tired and cranky for birthday burpees.  But after a crappy start to my day, I knew I needed to see my TPA family and get in a good workout for a dose of fail-proof cheering up.  Tired or not,  I needed to head to the box.

Walking through that garage door out of the cold and into the heated building always feels good in the morning.  But nothing could have prepared me for the warmth inside the box yesterday when I arrived.  I was immediately met with an enthusiastic chorus of birthday wishes and birthday hugs from all directions... a greeting that would satisfy even the most hard-core of birthday fanatics.  I instantly went from orange alert cranky to birthday-appropriate warm and fuzzy.  Now THIS is how a birthday is supposed to start!

Then I saw the whiteboard:

My very own birthday WOD!!!!  I almost squeeled like an overstimulated toddler on a sugar high.  Best birthday gift EVER!  Not only did I get my name on the whiteboard of infamy, but the WOD also had 31/13 reps of everything in honor of my 31st birthday.  I felt so special... better than classroom cupcakes and birthday bar crawls combined.  The fact that these people, who I didn't even know 6 months ago, took the time and energy to recognize my birthday in such a cool way, and to celebrate with me (and suffer through that miserable WOD!) on my favorite day of the year just made me feel totally loved.  Once again, it really hit home how effortlessly this incredible group of people had welcomed me into their family.  That thought put a smile on my face that even burpees couldn't shake.

Post birthday WOD... love you guys!

The rest of the day was lovely.  I spent a quiet day with my husband and our dogs, and then enjoyed a wonderful dinner at the Grand Concourse (which was NOT even remotely diet-friendly... don't judge me, damnit.  It was my BIRTHDAY!).  Despite the lack of a rowdy party, my birthday was wonderful.  And oddly enough (don't tell Jim!), the highlight of my day was the hour I spent at the box getting my ass kicked by my own birthday WOD.

In fact, that hour is the highlight of many of my days.  Not because the rest of my existence is so boring and unfullfilling that my sole joy in life is beating the crap out of myself in a sweaty warehouse, but because of the way the box (and all of the crazy shit we do there) make me feel.  CrossFit TPA is obviously a place where I go to get a good workout... but it is so, so much more.  That's what I want to talk about today, because I've been thinking about it a lot lately.

For me, the box is a place...


...where I go to find focus.

Life is crazy.  We all know this.  Between work, family, friends, random miscellaneous obligations, and unexpected curveballs that are occasionally thrown at us (sewage flood in the basement, anyone?), sometimes there just isn't enough time in the day for everything that needs to be done.  Sometimes life moves so fast that it makes your head spin.  Some days, I feel like my "to do" list is so long that I can't even keep track of everything on the agenda, and even when I try to relax and have "me time", I spend it feeling guilty for not being productive and worrying about all of the things I should be doing.  But it's different at the box.  Once I walk through that garage door, I know exactly what needs to be accomplished, exactly how and in exactly what order.  My phone is off, the rest of my "to do" list is on hold, and, for one hour, I can focus on exactly one thing: the WOD on the whiteboard.  Everything else can wait.  The only decision I have to make is how much weight to put on my bar.  It's completely refreshing.


...where I go to be in control.

I am an ER nurse.  A night shift ER nurse, more specifically.  My job is completely unpredictable; you never know who or what is going to come through the door at any given moment.  That's part of what drew me to the ER after I graduated nursing school, and part of what I love about my job: it's NEVER boring.  But sometimes, the unpredictability is stressful.  When you're short-staffed, the department and waiting room are full, and one of your patients starts to take a bad turn, a shift can go from controlled chaos to absolute mayhem in the blink of an eye.  Most of us got into nursing because we want to help people.  But in the ER, we often see people who don't want help; or, on the other end, people who want help, and who we desperately want to help, but can't.  As nurses, we have very little control over... well, anything.  It can wear a girl down after awhile.  Some mornings, I walk out the hospital door feeling stressed, frustrated, and thanking sweet baby Jesus for getting me through the shift without killing anyone or losing my nursing license.  The half-hour commute from work to the box is often spent listening to really angry music and wanting to bang my head off the dashboard repeatedly to knock the memory of the previous night's madness from my mind.  But once I get to the box, I can put a bad night behind me and shrug off that feeling of chaos.  In a WOD, I have complete control.  I control how much I want to lift or how fast I want to go.  I control how hard I want to work.  I control whether I succeed or fail.  After twelve hours of feeling completely and totally out of control, you'd be amazed how sanity-saving an hour of complete control can be.  It puts me into the right mindset to face the rest of the day.


...where I go to feel like a part of something.

Throughout college and my 20's, I always had a core group of friends.  I was constantly a part of some group or team.  At Virginia Tech, I had the equestrian team.  When I lived in Maryland, I was close with the clients at the horse farm I managed, and my best friend lived right down the road.  When I moved back to Pittsburgh to go back to school, I had a wonderful group of friends who I worked with in the service industry and who were my daily partners in crime.  I've always had some kind of a "group": the people I spend the bulk of my time with, work with, play with, party with, and who I could always count on to be there when I needed them.  But as I get older and priorities change, I've found that the "pack mentality" isn't always feasible.  At 31, it seems like half of my friends are marrying off, having babies, and focused on family, while the other half are still in the service industry party-til-you-drop mode.  I'm floating somewhere in between.  We all have different schedules, different obligations, and different priorities.  Don't get me wrong... these people are still my friends, and I love them dearly.  But trying to get everyone together is virtually impossible, and even when we do, it sometimes feels like we don't have much in common anymore.

I think it's human nature to want to be a part of something.  It's why clubs, group activities, and team sports are so popular.  I've always loved being a part of a team, knowing that I am surrounded by like-minded people who have my back, and knowing that I have theirs.  I've missed that feeling over the past few years.  TPA has given it back to me, tenfold.  Every morning, I get to spend an hour of my day with a group of people who have similar goals and priorities, and who support and encourage each other through thick and thin... literally, in my case.  CrossFit is an individual sport, but I've never seen such an incredible team mentality anywhere else in my life.  No one leaves the box until the last person finishes the WOD, no matter how long it takes (hell, half the time they jump back in and finish it with you!), everyone pushes each other to be their very best, and everyone has a kind word of reassurance on days when you're not.  Being a part of a team is great.  Being a part of this team is pretty much the best thing ever.


...where I go for a good laugh.

In addition to being awesomely supportive and encouraging, the people at my box are HILARIOUS.  I laugh more during our 15-minute warm-up than I do for the rest of the day combined.  Especially when Maureen shows up.


...where I can be myself.

The box is the one place in the world where I never feel like I'm being judged.  No one cares that I have zero fashion sense, usually roll in straight from work looking like a trainwreck, and often look like I haven't brushed my hair in weeks.  No one laughs at me for being painfully slow, for my irrational fear of handstands, or for my occasional wipeouts (the most spectacular of which occurred during the first round of pull ups in Fran... I don't know how you all refrained from laughing, but I appreciated it).  It is truly a judgement-free zone.  I'm never afraid to be myself... because, let's face it.  If you've seen me at the end of Colin, Angie, and the WOD of a Million Burpees, you've seen me at my absolute worst.  And if you still like me after my puke-and-rally mono-infected WOD, you're probably going to like me through pretty much anything.


...where I go for anger management.

Sometimes it is better to throw a ball at a wall than to throw a chair at someone's head.  Just sayin'.


...where I go for a self-esteem boost.

Some of you may have noticed that I suffer from chronically low self-esteem.  30 years of being a fatass will do that to a girl.  I'm getting better, but I still let it get the best of me sometimes.  Nothing makes me feel better about myself than finishing a brutal WOD and knowing I gave it my best.  The sense of empowerment I get from a big PR or mastering a new skill is unlike anything else I've ever done.  And even when I have a less-than-stellar workout and feel bad about myself afterwards, someone is always kind enough to remind me how far I've come, and to tell me to suck it up and quit pouting, because even a crappy WOD is better than no WOD at all.  Feeling like a badass is the best feeling on earth, hands down.  CrossFit makes me feel like a badass.  Therefore, CrossFit = awesome.


...where I go to be happy.

Something that most people don't know about me (because, let's face it, it's not a very cheerful topic for dinner party conversation)... I have spent most of my life dealing with depression.  Not just low self-esteem or feeling sad sometimes, but serious clinical depression.  The kind where sometimes, for no reason at all, life feels cripplingly empty and hopeless, clouded by an irrational and all-consuming sadness and nothing can make it better.  The kind where just getting out of bed some days feels like more than I can handle.  The kind where I sometimes feel like I will never be good enough or strong enough or smart enough to be worth anything to anyone, for absolutely no reason.  It's not something I like to admit to, but it is what it is, and since this blog is all about fearlessness and full disclosure, I'm putting it out there.  I used to feel terrible about feeling terrible, because my life really has been easy compared to so many people, and I have never really had any logical reason to be sad.  Which made me even more sad, because I felt guilty for being sad in the first place.  Vicious cycle.  It was the worst in high school, and for a few years, I took antidepressants to control whatever chemical imbalance was making me so damn crazy.  But I never felt like myself when I was on meds, so I stopped taking them.  As the years have gone by, I've gotten better, and my "dark days" became few and far between with time.  But occasionally, I still wake up in the morning feeling overwhelmingly sad and hopeless for no reason whatsoever, and just can't shake it.

That is, I used to still have those days.  I haven't had one in months.  In fact, I haven't had one since I started CrossFit.

I know it sounds crazy, and I know what you're thinking... running, jumping, and lifting are not cures for clinical depression.  And you're probably right.  But all I know is, I'm in a better place mentally right now than I have been at any other point in my adult life.  I'm sure there is some scientific explanation for it... endorphins, healthy body = healthy mind, etc.  But I think it has more to do with the mental and emotional changes I've undergone as a result of my time at TPA.  From the confidence I've gained to the mental toughness I've acquired to the incredible support network I've found at the box, everything about CrossFit makes me feel better about myself, and about life.  In short, it makes me happy.  Really, truly happy.  And that, my friends, is priceless.  Of course, like everyone, I still have bad days when I'm crabby, or angry, or sad.  But when I have a bad day, I go to the box, and it makes me feel better.  Simple as that.  See?  Priceless.



Most people don't understand my love for this amazing sport and the amazing community it has created.  I'm told all the time that I'm obsessed, that I need to take more rest days, that I'm doing too much too fast and that I need to slow down.  What these people don't understand is how much more I'm getting out of my WODs than just a workout.  Every time I go to the box, there are benefits so far beyond the physical ones that I can no longer imagine my life without them.  It's my box... it's where I exercise.  But it's also my source of focus, control, and laughter.  It's my posse, my punching bag, and my Prozac.  It's my happy place.  It's my family.  When I walk through those garage doors, it feels like coming home.  If I could be there 7 days a week, I would.  But poor Tammy deserves a break from me every now and then, so I guess it's better this way.

So, here I am, 31 years and one day old, a little crippled from a run-in with Nancy this morning and a little tired because I've been writing and reminiscing all afternoon instead of taking my pre-night-shift nap.  But I'll take that any day.  Because pain is just weakness leaving the body.  And having something that I'm passionate enough about to keep me awake at night?  So much better than sleep.  Thank you, CrossFit TPA, for giving me that something.  And thank ALL of you for the birthday love.  Here's to another year of health and happiness for all of us.

1/8/12

1/8/13

What a difference a year makes... :-)