Mental Games

It was brought to my attention recently that it's been quite awhile since I updated this blog.  And I apologize for being a total slacker of a blogger for the past few weeks.  It's not because nothing noteworthy has been happening recently... in fact, February was a pretty big month in a lot of ways, and March is looking like it will bring lots of adventures as well.  I'd like to say I've been too busy for writing, but that's only part of the reality of it.  The truth is, I've had a little trouble finding inspiration lately.  And to be perfectly honest, I've been in a little bit of a funk for the past few weeks.

You see, I'm at a kind of weird place in my journey right now, both from a fitness standpoint and a life-in-general standpoint.  I'm almost 13 months into this thing, and I've reached a point where rapid, drastic transformations are a thing of the past.  At the beginning, progress was fast, constant, and easily quantifiable: the weight was coming off quickly, I was mastering new skills left and right, every run was longer and faster than the last, and every max lift day was a huge PR.  My body was changing before my eyes; I was literally watching my fat melting away and being replaced by new muscles every time I looked in the mirror.  The numbers didn't lie... the scale, my pant size, my WOD book, and my 5K times all told me the same thing: I was getting better every day.  Sure, some days were better than others.  But on the not-so-awesome days, all it took was one look in the mirror to confirm that I was on the right track.  People I hadn't seen in awhile weren't recognizing me.  I was constantly being told how great I looked and how much I had changed.  Every single day gave me some kind of confirmation that I was accomplishing what I'd set out to accomplish.

Fast forward to present day.  My weight loss has pretty much come to a screeching halt, and while I know I'm continuing to tone and lose inches, the progress is slow, subtle, and not always visible to me when I look in the mirror.  I'm okay with that... while I definitely have areas that I want to work on, overall, I'm starting to be happy with my current weight and the way my body looks.  What I find more discouraging, however, is the steady decline in my progress at the box.

Somewhere along the line, my PRs stopped being enormous (remember the days when I was consistently adding 30+ pounds to all of my lifts every time we did a max lift day?) and started happening in smaller increments (5 pounds just doesn't sound as badass as 25, you know?)... and last week, I had a new experience that I did not enjoy at all:  I failed to get a back squat PR.  Failed.  Tried three times for 215 pounds and just... couldn't... do it.  I guess I always knew that the day would come when I wouldn't be able to PR on every max lift day, but it still felt like a big slap in the face when that day actually came.  The fact that it came on my favorite (and what I always considered to be my strongest) lift just added insult to injury.

And it's not just the max lifts.  Progress seems to be slowing drastically in all aspects of my CrossFitting adventures.  Gone are the days when I was mastering new skills on an almost daily basis.  I'm getting to the point where I'm struggling with the same things week after week, and sometimes it feels like I will never figure them out.  Part of the struggle has to do with higher standards I've set for myself: I'm no longer satisfied with simply surviving the WODs.  I want to do the WODs and do them well.  I expect myself to be able to do the WODs at the prescribed weight and without the old modifications I used to find acceptable.  So when I can't handle the prescribed 95-pound clean and jerk, or when I have to do knees-to-elbows instead of toes-to-bar, or when I still have to use a freaking band to get through my pull ups, it discourages me to no end.  A part of me knows how far I've come, and knows that I should be proud of how much progress I've made in a relatively short period of time.  But a larger part of me is getting frustrated; it's been more than six months now.  I've been working my ass off almost every day of the week.  Why can I still not do these things?  What am I doing wrong?  Am I not working hard enough?  Do I not want it badly enough?  Do I just suck?  Will I ever freaking get good at this?!

In my re-birthday blog post, I wrote that I wanted to stop comparing my current self with the person I used to be; that I wanted to stop being "the girl who used to be fat" and start being something more.  I wanted to finally shed my fat girl self-image once and for all, and to embrace this new life and the new me.  Well, that's been kind of a double-edged sword.  As it turns out, my view of the world is a whole hell of a lot different when I'm not hiding behind my fat former self.  Sure, it's pretty awesome that I was able to accomplish what I did last year... considering where I started.  Some of the things I'm able to do are pretty impressive... for someone who used to weigh almost 300 pounds.  But when you take away that back story, there's really nothing impressive about me.  I'm just another slightly pudgy girl trying her best to keep up with the real athletes.  I'm not great at anything; I'm not at the top of the leaderboard on any of the lifts, and I'm never the first one to finish a WOD.  It would be so easy to spend the rest of my life looking back, thinking, "Hey, look how far I've come!  It's okay that I still kind of suck!"... but I've reached a point in my life where I need to let go of the past and focus on what lies ahead..  And when you strip away the past that I've gotten so comfortable hiding behind, there's really nothing awesome or epic or inspiring about the person I've become: an average girl, an average athlete, and, if we're being perfectly honest, a below-average CrossFitter.

Don't get me wrong.  My love for CrossFit has not wavered in the least.  I'm still completely addicted to the rush I feel after a brutal WOD, and going to the box is still my favorite part of the day.  But that feeling I felt in the beginning... the feeling of pushing myself to places I never thought I could go... has started to fade.  Now, I can't help but feel like I should expect myself to go to those places every day, and even places beyond that.  And sometimes, I just don't live up to those expectations.  And when I don't, my old friends doubt, fear, and negativity start creeping back into the picture.  I've been struggling with them for the last few weeks, and no matter how hard I work or how badly I want to succeed, these feelings seem to catch up with me more often than not.

CrossFit has become such a huge part of my life.  It is so much more than just a workout for me, and so much more than a means to an end for weight loss.  I love it.  I love everything about it.  It's what I look forward to when I wake up in the morning, and what keeps me going through the longest and crappiest of night shifts.  It is something about which I am passionate, and something to which I've given so much of myself.  It's been a long time since I had something in my life that I wanted this badly, or cared this much about.  Which makes it completely heartbreaking to think that I might never be any good at it, or to feel like I'm failing to progress.  I hate that doubt and negativity have invaded something that has always been nothing but positive and empowering for me.  I don't want to feel those things.  I want to feel the way I felt after my very first WOD, when I was completely convinced that I could conquer the world.  I want to feel the way I felt when I got my 250-pound dead lift after struggling with it endlessly, or the day I told a box mate that there was no way in hell that I would ever get a 200-plus back squat, and then shocked the hell out of us both by squatting 205.  I want to feel the way I felt when I finally ditched the black band, or when I did my first WOD using the "big girl" box.  The way I felt the first time I did a whole WOD at prescribed weight.  The way I felt when I finished Colin and didn't die. 

I want to feel the way I felt on top of a mountain in Big Sur all of those months ago: the feeling that the world is one of endless possibilities, no boundaries, and limitless opportunities for anyone with the guts to reach out and grab them.  I don't know when that feeling slipped out of my grasp, but I want it back.  I want to feel invincible again.

I just don't know how to get back to that place.

While wrestling with these unwelcome feelings of doubt and inadequacy, I found myself facing another demon, possibly the biggest one of all: the CrossFit Open.  I wrote about the Open a month or so back... about how I was terrified to put myself out there against CrossFitters from across the world, but how was going to do it anyways because I was ready to face my fears.  Well, that was easy enough to say back then.  But as the days went by and the announcement of Open WOD 13.1 drew terrifyingly close, my nerves went from anxiety to borderline panic.  My brain hasn't been in a great place to begin with, and the added stress of worrying about what the first WOD would be was certainly not helping the situation.  By yesterday morning, I was pretty much a wreck.  Yesterday was the day I'd been dreading: the announcement of Open WOD 13.1.  Ready or not, I was about to find out what the CrossFit gods had in store for me.

I pretty much sucked at everything yesterday.  My WOD didn't go well at all, and I left the box feeling like a total failure.  After that, I went for a trail run in the snow with my dogs, which is normally a foolproof way to improve my mood.  But I was terribly distracted, couldn't get out of my head, and ended up having one of my slowest runs in months.  Yesterday evening, I went to yoga, hoping that it would be a calming way to make the time pass until the 8:00pm announcement.  But that was a fail as well.  Even yoga couldn't chill me out, and I spent the entire 75 minutes dwelling on the upcoming announcement.  What if there are pull ups?  What if there are handstand push ups?  What if there are double unders?  The only consolation I had was that it surely wouldn't be burpees.  Last year's OpenWOD 12.1 was seven minutes of max burpees, and there was no way they were going to do the same thing two years in a row.  As I distractedly went through the motions of my yoga practice, I kept repeating that one reassuring tidbit in my head: high to low pushup... at least it won't be burpees.  Up dog... at least it won't be burpees.  Down dog... thank GOD it won't be burpees.

I left Salt armed with several bottles of high-quality red wine and headed to my dear friend Lynn's house, since she had kindly invited me over so that I could be on suicide watch post-announcement until my husband got done with work.  It was 7:58 when I parked my car, and something told me that I needed to be by myself to hear the announcement.  So I turned off my car, pulled up the CrossFit Games website on my iPhone, closed my eyes, and tried not to hyperventilate.  Endless possibilities for disaster ran through my head; in those two minutes, I imaged no fewer than 137 ways in which I could fail Open WOD 13.1.  And then, before I knew it or was completely ready for it, they were announcing the workout.

And then.  I.  PANICKED.

Because this is what they announced:

Workout 13.1

MEN - includes Masters Men up to 54 years old
Proceed through the sequence below completing as many reps as possible in 17 minutes of:
40 Burpees
75 pound Snatch, 30 reps
30 Burpees
135 pound Snatch, 30 reps
20 Burpees
165 pound Snatch, 30 reps
10 burpees
210 pound Snatch, as many reps as possible
WOMEN - includes Masters Women up to 54 years old
Proceed through the sequence below completing as many reps as possible in 17 minutes of:
40 Burpees
45 pound Snatch, 30 reps
30 Burpees
75 pound Snatch, 30 reps
20 Burpees
100 pound Snatch, 30 reps
10 burpees
120 pound Snatch, as many reps as possible


OMFG.  OMFG.  It's snatches.  SNATCHES.  I hadn't even considered the possibility that it could be snatches, because I've done so few of them that I kind of forgot they existed.  And the ones I have done were so bad that I actively tried to forget they existed.  And that was at a whopping 45 pounds.  A 75-pound snatch simply is not in my repertoire.  Much less 30 of them.  And burpees.  BURPEES.  FUCKING BURPEES!!!  So... many... burpees.  OMFG OMFG SNATCHES AND BURPEES?!

I almost laughed at first because my initial thought was that this was a joke.  And then I realized that it wasn't a joke at all.  This was actually Open WOD 13.1, and I was actually going to have to do it.  And be judged.  And submit my score to be viewed by the entire world and compared with 120,000 other CrossFitters, most of who probably can actually do a proper snatch.

And then I am ashamed to admit that I cried a little, alone in my car, staring at my iPhone and considering opening up a bottle of wine then and there.  Because the announcement had made it official: the CrossFit Open was just another thing that I was going to fail.

After taking a moment to pull myself together as much as I could under the circumstances, I collected my wine and went to seek consolation from Lynn.  She commiserated with me about the evil horrors of 13.1, poured me an enormous glass of pinot noir, and spent the next hour or so being an awesome friend and trying to distract me from my woes.  But the whole time, I felt like a balloon that someone had inflated almost to popping point and then suddenly let all the air out: deflated, stretched thin, and on the verge of falling apart.  All of the work, all of the hours at the box, all of the blood, sweat, and tears I'd left on those mats... it all came down to this.  And this was not something I could do.  I was not going to succeed.  And that thought completely broke my heart.

All week long I'd barely slept; I'd been a nervous ball of energy.  But last night, my head couldn't hit the pillow fast enough.  I felt exhausted and drained, and sleep was a welcome interruption from feeling like crap.  Uncharacteristically, I had to drag myself out of bed this morning to go to the box.

On my drive to the box, I started to feel a little better, hoping that a good workout would at least make me feel a little less defeated.  But when I walked in and saw the whiteboard, I instantly felt more defeated than ever.  The WOD was as follows:

21-15-9-3
Clean & Jerks
Burpee Pull Ups

Perfect.  Just perfect.  Burpees were haunting me around every corner.  Burpee pull ups?  Even better.  You can't use a band, so I pretty much can't do them.  And cleans.  My nemesis lift.  No matter how hard I try, I just can't get them right.  It was like the entire WOD was designed specifically to make me feel even more like a failure than I already did... if such a thing were possible.  I seriously wanted to cry.

But I didn't.  I went through the motions, did my warm-up, went through the strength portion of the WOD (front pause squats... at least those went well), and then loaded my bar for the clean and jerks.  The entire time, I couldn't shake the heavy blanket of defeat that seemed to be suffocating me.  Time for more shit I can't do.  Woohoo.

But as the 10-second timer started beeping away and Julie turned up the volume of the music, that familiar feeling of calm washed over me, and I finally felt some of the heaviness roll off of my shoulders.  I might as well at least try to not suck.  It's just another workout, after all.

The buzzer sounded, and I set to work on my clean and jerks.  I'd initially loaded my bar at 65 pounds, but right away, I knew that my form (as always) was horrible.  Frustrated, I yanked off the plates and decided to focus on my form with just the 45-pound bar.  One rep, two reps, three reps... the first 6 were miserably bad.  As usual.  But then, something happened.  #7 felt different.  It felt good.  The bar felt lighter, and I felt like I was getting underneath the bar instead of muscling it up.  Shocked, I kept going.  #8 felt good, too.  #9 felt even better.  Before I knew it, I'd done 21 reps and was on to my burpee pull ups.

At first, those were a disaster, too.  Even with the jumping start, I couldn't get my chest anywhere near the bar.  I felt all of the frustration come rushing back.  But Julie coached me through a few, telling me to use my legs and hips, and by the time I hit #21, they were getting better.  Not good, but better.  Closer.  I almost smiled a little.

When I started chipping away at my 15 C&J reps, I actually did smile... they felt good.  Not just okay, but good.  For the first time ever, I felt like something had finally connected between my brain and my body.  I was getting my cleans, and I was getting them right.  Feeling exhilarated, I made a quick decision to throw the plates back on and try some reps at 65 pounds.  Julie was awesome, encouraging me and helping me reload my bar.  I finished out that round at the higher weight, and to my great surprise, the form stuck.  They felt good.  In fact, I felt like I could have done more weight.  Julie confirmed that my form looked good, and for an instant, I felt a flicker of that feeling... that mountaintop feeling.  It was fleeting, but it was definitely there.  Then I was hit by an enormous rush of relief, because I'd started to fear that I'd lost that feeling forever.  And here, in this most unlikely of moments, I'd found it again, however briefly.  It was still in me somewhere, after all.

I busted through the rest of the WOD, feeling better than I had in days.  I even came pretty damn close to getting my chest to the bar on my last three burpee pull ups.  After the WOD, I threw a few fivers on my bar for good measure and was pleased to find that I could clean and jerk 75 pounds without too much difficulty.  It's amazing what a difference good form makes.  I don't know what changed today, or what I was doing differently... something just clicked.  I felt like I'd finally won this one small battle.  And it felt good.

As I unloaded my bar and started putting my equipment away, I realized how much lighter I felt than I had when I walked into the box that morning; how much all of my negativity and self-doubt had been weighing me down.  That wasn't me; that's not who I am anymore, and it certainly isn't who I ever want to be again.  I wasted too much of my life already being weighed down (literally and figuratively) by my own negative mindset.  I've come so far towards being the positive, strong, ambitious person I set out to become 13 months ago... why was I taking steps backwards towards a past that I've tried so hard to overcome?  When did I become this defeatist loser wallowing in self-doubt and self-pity?  Where had this shitty attitude come from, and why had I let it drag me down for the past few weeks?  And why, if I could randomly figure out my cleans, out of nowhere, in the middle of a Thursday morning WOD... why couldn't I snatch 75 pounds thirty times?  Who the hell says I can't?  And, more importantly, who's to say I won't?

I could fill a book with all of the things I've said I'd never be able to do.  And you know what?  I've done most of them.  Sometimes it takes awhile.  Sometimes it comes when you least expect it.  But that moment... the moment when "can't" turns to "can", and "can" turns to "did"... there is nothing better than that moment, regardless of when or how it comes.  That is what CrossFit is all about, and that is why I love it so much.  And maybe, the more time I spend at the box and the more experience I get, those moments will become fewer and farther between.  But perhaps that doesn't mean I'm accomplishing any less, or making less progress.  Maybe it just means that I've gained a little more confidence in my own abilities, and that I don't have as many "can'ts" as I used to.  Maybe there will be some frustration, because I truly believe, deep down, that I am capable of doing the things with which I've been struggling.  So when I finally get them, whenever or however it happens, it won't be a surprise.  But it will be epic none the less.  And those moments are worth waiting for.

Maybe Open WOD 13.1 will be one of those moments.  Maybe this is exactly what I need to find that girl who, so many months ago, stood on top of a mountain and knew without a doubt that she could do absolutely anything if she wanted it badly enough.  And believe me... I want this.  I want this with my whole soul.  I may not have a shot in hell of advancing to regionals, or even completing most of the Open WODs.  But what I want, more than anything, is to walk out of the box on Saturday feeling like I left every shred of everything I had on the mats.  If I can do that, my score will be irrelevant.  If I can do that, I will have already won, no matter what happens next.

I left the box today feeling better than I have in weeks.  I had my moment (ahem, 3 weeks of moments) of weakness... but I don't have time for any more of that nonsense.  There's no time for wallowing or doubting or crying into a glass of red wine.  I am being judged on 13.1 at 6:00am on Saturday.  That gives me 39 hours to prepare, mentally and physically.  39 hours to man up and throw down.  39 hours to do epic shit.  I'm not gonna lie... this still scares the crap out of me.  I can assure you that I will be in all-out panic mode by Saturday morning.  But I'll take fear over doubt any day.  Fear can motivate you and drive you forward... doubt does nothing but hold you back.  So as the CrossFit Games 2013 begin, I will plow forward, scared shitless but hopeful.  Because I can do this.  I can survive 17 minutes.  And I can prove to myself that the girl on the mountain was completely, 100% right.  It's mine if I want it.  And yours, too, fellow TPA-ers.  We've got this.  Let's do this.  Let's kill it.  Let the Games begin.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to the basement and work on my snatch.