Confession: I love November. Always have. I love the cold weather and the changing leaves, and the promises of snow and skiing and long winter walks in the woods just around the corner. It's the last month before the two-month period containing my favorite days of the year: Christmas, New Years, and my birthday. And it is also the month in which we celebrate Thanksgiving... a holiday that I never really appreciated all that much until recent years. (Honestly, if you're going to base an entire holiday around a meal that will provide enough calories to feed a small army, that meal should contain a little less cranberry sauce and a lot more cheese. But, that's just me.) The older I get, the more I understand that Thanksgiving means more than stuffing one's face, drinking way too much wine with one's family, and falling into a tryptophan coma. And this year especially, the holiday has a lot of meaning for me. More than ever before, and more than I could have anticipated.
Back in college, a few friends and I started the tradition of picking one thing every day in November for which we were thankful. If I remember correctly, this idea started at a bar at approximately 1am on November 1st, and my first declaration of thanks was for Jack Daniels. Over the years, my "thanks" have gotten a little more mature. (Last year, I was thankful for dirty martinis, which is clearly a classier thing to be thankful for than good ol' #7.) Every year, there are the standbys. My wonderful friends. My horse. My completely dysfunctional but strangely appealing family. The fact that I have a best friend who I have known for most of my life (closing in on the two decade mark!) and who is still one of the most amazing people I know. (Love you and miss you every day, Ericka Pauline Schaefenafer Caslin!) Having a job that pays the bills, a roof over my head, plenty of food to eat, and having never had to go without anything that I truly needed. I've always had a lot for which to be thankful. However, my "month of thanks" kind of became a mind game over the years. The more unhappy and unfulfilled I became with my life, the more guilty I felt for feeling that way, and the harder I tried to compensate by coming up with 30 things to be thankful for each year. I thought if I could come up with enough of these things, that maybe I would be able to see the good in my life and change my crappy perspective, and that maybe then I would stop being ungrateful and unhappy. But in recent years, it's mostly just made me depressed having to bullshit my way through by mid-month. (If memory serves, 2011 contained the following gems of thanksgiving by the end of the month: flannel sheets... getting to wear the equivalent of blue pajamas to work every day... the guy at my local gas station who didn't judge me when I showed up every evening for my two giant Red Bulls and my pack of smokes... and good toilet paper. And while I still appreciate the merits of a nice, soft roll of two-ply, it always felt like I should be able to come up with something more meaningful in my life than an absence of ass-chafing toilet tissue.)
This year, everything is different. For the first time, I am overwhelmed with thankfulness for so many things that I wish November contained more days. Each day, I have trouble narrowing it down to one thing. Never in my life have I felt luckier, more thankful, more blessed. Part of it is a change in perspective... finally being able to pull my head out of my ass and truly be grateful for all of the wonderful things I've had in my life all along. But in addition to changing my perspective, I've also made some pretty epic changes in my life in general this year. And I couldn't possibly be more thankful for all of the beauty and growth and enormous joy that have come as a result.
As I've gone through the month, choosing something every day for which to be thankful, I started to notice a theme. They were almost all connected by one common thread. And that common thread is something for which I am eternally thankful... today, and every day, more than words can possibly express. Because when I really take a good hard look at the best changes in my life over the past year, they all started from the same place. The same day. The same moment, really.
I am so, so thankful for the first day I walked into CrossFit TPA.
I know what some of you are probably thinking... oh, shit. Here we go again. Crazy bitch needs to lay off the Kool-Aid, because we've already read more than enough love letters to this TPA place. And I don't expect everyone to get it. To truly understand how four walls, a garage door, some mats, and a bunch of bumper plates can change a life in the most epic way, for the absolute better. But the honest truth is, it can and it has. And not a day, or a moment, goes by in which I am not enormously thankful for those changes... for those four walls, the gains I've made and the lessons I've learned within them, and the people with whom I share them.
I know it's all been said before, in previous blog posts. I've written, ad nauseum, about all of the ways my time at TPA has changed me, and helped me grow, and brought enormous and unprecedented happiness to my life. It all started with wanting to lose weight, because I thought that being thin, looking better, and being more conventionally attractive would automatically make me a happier person. And yes, being healthy has been a wonderful and much needed change. The number on the scale has been a nice bonus. But there are so many other numbers that mean infinitely more to me.
13.1: the distance of the half marathon that I never, in a million years, thought I'd be able to finish.
17: the number of minutes I've shaved off of my 5K time since my first race.
93: the number of pounds I've added to my max clean and jerk since my first attempt.
11/11/13: the day I RXed my first hero WOD.
5: The number of Open WODs I made it through without scoring a zero.
4: The number of WODs I survived in one day at the Patriot Games without making a complete fool out of myself or crying like a little bitch.
240/220/335: my max back squat/front squat/dead lift numbers to date... from a girl who used to watch people at the box and think, "I'll never be strong enough to lift that."
One of the things I love most about CrossFit is the ability to see quantifiable progress. There are few things more satisfying than looking back in my WOD book and seeing that I just took a big chunk of time off of a benchmark WOD, or to see that my overhead squat has more than tripled since the first time I went for a one rep max, or to smash through a WOD doing box jumps on a 24-inch box and remember that it wasn't so long ago that I was scared of the 12-inch "baby box". The numbers don't lie... concrete evidence of progress. Improvement. Getting stronger, faster, better.
And then there are the bigger gains... the ones that don't show up on a clock, or can't be counted by the plates on your bar. The empowerment that comes from doing things that you once thought were impossible. The satisfaction that comes with hard work and the resulting accomplishments. The confidence that comes from letting your guard down and finally being yourself (because who has the energy to try to put on an act after being brutally demolished by Fran or Grace or one of their nasty friends?) and being accepted for who you truly are. The many different kinds of strength that I've gained from my time at the box... strength of conviction, of faith, of self... all of the things I discussed in my last blog post are more applicable now than ever, proving that my scary-looking quads are not the only things that have grown since I took my first timid steps as a CrossFitter. I've grown stronger, braver, more self-assured, more optimistic. I've grown healthier. I've grown happier. And while I may be just over half of my former size, I am twice the person I've ever been before. And that is a truly remarkable gift for which I will never stop being thankful.
If I had to sum up, in one word, what I'm most thankful for about my time at TPA, I'd have to say... courage. I lived so much of my life as a weak person... physically, yes, but also mentally and emotionally. I had no faith in myself, or in anyone else. I was unhappy most of the time, and grew to hate the person I'd become. I was scared of everything... scared of change, scared of letting people in, scared of being lonely and miserable for the rest of my life. I was so scared of never going anywhere... but I was more scared to move. To make changes. To try anything new. To fail. To take steps towards something better. So I became stagnant; standing still, afraid to make the first move, just waiting for magic to happen. For some glorious change to fall out of the sky, land in my lap, and make my life everything I'd ever wanted it to be.
If a random whim and a well-timed Google search hadn't brought me to CrossFit TPA, I'd probably still be waiting.
Change doesn't just happen. I learned that quickly at the box. You don't get stronger just by wishing for it... you have to work for it. You don't get good at something without giving it everything you've got. You never succeed if you're too afraid of failure to try. You never know what you're capable of until you push the limits. And you'll never be happy with who you are, if you spend your life trying to be someone else. Courage is everything. Courage to try. Courage to give it your all, even when your all isn't what you'd like it to be. Courage to move forward. Courage to change. Courage to be honest... with others, and with yourself. This is what I have taken away from my 15 months at TPA.
Lifting heavy shit gives me courage. Attempting a lift at a weight I've already failed at multiple times... takes courage. The first time you finally nail it at that weight... breeds courage. Being stronger than I ever thought I could be... increases courage.
Having a passion for something at which I am inherently crappy gives me courage. It's so easy to do something day after day if you are good at it... if it comes naturally to you. But to suck at something from day one... to struggle for every skill, every movement, every gain... to fairly consistently finish last in any "for time" WOD even after all these months... to know that I'm never going to be the fastest, or the strongest, or the best CrossFitter, or probably even a semi-good CrossFitter... to know all of this, and to keep going every day, and to love every piece of it none the less... to realize that you don't have to necessarily be good at something in order to enjoy it... finally being able to redefine success, on my own terms... these things have given me courage.
Being surrounded by amazing, inspiring athletes gives me courage. Watching people fight and succeed every day. Watching a friend finally master a skill they've been working on for months. Seeing the smile on someone's face when they finally get to write their time in the "RX'ed" column for the first time. Watching people do things that seem impossible... lift impossible amounts of weight, put up impossible Fran times, accomplish impossible things with their bodies. The more I do it, the more I realize that there is no "impossible" in CrossFit. There's just hard, harder, and really effing hard. And seeing people do the really effing hard stuff inspires me to try harder myself. And who knows? Maybe I'll get there someday. Or maybe I won't. But either way, watching people make the impossible, possible... gives me courage.
And being surrounded by amazing, inspiring friends gives me the most courage of all. Having people in my life who understand me. Who like me for who I am, rather than for who I think I should be. Who support me endlessly, whether I'm doing something as small as going for a 5-pound PR, or something as big as making a seriously major life change. Who have my back, no matter what. And who make me feel like it's okay to be weird and different and a little bit crazy. Which I am, and always will be. Finally being okay with that has given me more courage than anything else.
I always used to hear stories about people making enormous transformations in their lives... about people "finding themselves." And I always thought it was a little bit ridiculous. How does one "find" their self? And how does one "lose" their self in the first place? I always thought, we are who we are. You have the cards you're dealt. Your life is what it is. How pretentious I always thought these people were, with their tales of self-discovery and self-fulfillment.
It wasn't until I woke up one day and realized that I'd somehow become cynical, bitter, unhappy, and a shadow of my former being, that I finally understood what it truly meant to be lost. To lose one's self in the most crushing way. To realize that life had lost its joy somewhere along the line, and that I'd stopped trying to find it. And it wasn't until I found TPA, and the people I've met there, that I started the process of figuring out who I am and what I want. The process of "finding myself." Because that process takes a courage that I'd never possessed before.
I have it now. The courage to figure out myself, my dreams, who I want to be and where I want to go from here. The courage to get out of my comfort zone. Which may not seem like that much, to some. My comfort zone wasn't so bad, really. There were lots of happy hours and dirty martinis and all of the cheese a girl could ask for. An endless supply of boxes to hide in. It felt safe and comfortable and familiar. At times, I was reasonably happy there, in my comfort zone. But there comes a time when you have to decide if "reasonably happy" is enough. And I decided it wasn't enough for me anymore. And it never truly would be. So I took my first tentative step out of my comfort zone, and into the four walls of TPA. The rest, as you know, is history. And each step I take away from my comfort zone is a step towards the life I want to live, and the person I want to be.
This summer, I took an enormous leap of faith. I faced the scariest Scared Shitless moment of my entire existence, and instead of turning back, I dove head-first into the terrifying unknown. I had a choice between standing still and being safe... and turning my entire life upside down in ways that I never even thought possible, for a chance at happiness that I wasn't even sure was possible. And for the first time in my life, I didn't let the fact that I was scared shitless, and uncertain, and completely unprepared for the consequences, hold me back. I didn't let the likelihood of failure slow me down... I just jumped. And while the months that followed were undoubtedly and unequivocally the most difficult and painful and downright terrifying months of my life, I fought through them. Survived. Became stronger than ever. And somewhere, amidst that fight, I found what I'd been looking for. I found myself. I found what I wanted. And I found a happiness that I never knew was possible. And the past few months have been, just as undoubtedly and just as unequivocally, the happiest, most beautiful, most amazing months of my entire life. I can't even describe it. For the first time in so long, maybe ever, I feel like I am exactly where I am meant to be, doing exactly what I'm meant to do, with the person I'm meant to spend my life with. And I truly feel like I am the best version of myself, in every way. What an incredible journey it has been... and what an incredible reward I've been given for sticking it out. I never knew life could be quite this awesome. And all because of one really, really big leap of faith.
And I can honestly say that I never would have had the courage to take that leap, if it hadn't been for the things I've learned and the people I've met at CrossFit TPA.
So yes, when I say that the box changed my life in a truly epic way, I mean it quite literally. Yep, four walls, some mats, and some bumper plates have taught me more in 15 months than anything else has in 31 years. And I am so incredibly, unbelievably, indescribably thankful. For all of it.
I'm thankful for the journey I've made within those walls. For the changes I've seen in myself, physically and emotionally, that I never thought possible.
I'm thankful for the people I've met on that journey. People who have become family. People who have supported me every step of the way, through every change and every stumble. When I was in a terrible place this summer, and the rumor mill was working overtime, and it felt like the whole world was judging me, some truly amazing people at the box were the first to reach out to me. To tell me that they didn't care what was being said, or if it was true, or what it all meant... that they loved me and had my back no matter what, and just wanted me to be happy. In addition to everything these people have taught me about kindness and acceptance and unconditional friendship, they also taught me to stand tall no matter what... because quiet courage in the face of hardship speaks so much louder than the petty talk of the small-minded.
I'm thankful that CrossFit has helped me to overcome my fear of failure. Not only because I've found some success there... but also because it has taught me that you can learn just as much, if not more, from your failures, if you have the right perspective. It has been so freeing to let go of some of that fear. I find myself trying new things that I never would have tried before. Taking chances. Living life to the fullest. And, perhaps the most fulfilling result... I'm finally back in the saddle, for the first time in far too long. Riding horses used to be the biggest, most important, most beloved part of my life. The one thing at which I excelled, was successful, and truly enjoyed. When time and financial constraints brought that to a halt for awhile, I felt like I'd lost a huge piece of my identity. And for so long, I've been afraid to go back, because I was scared that it would be too much to handle if I wasn't good at it anymore. But, as I've said so many times before, CrossFit and TPA have taught me that you don't have to be great at something to love it and benefit from it. Getting back in the saddle has been an enormous contributor in rediscovering and redefining myself, and I couldn't be more thankful to have that part of my life and myself back.
I'm thankful for the opportunity to see little pieces of greatness every single day. Whether it's watching Bova kill a workout in a time that would make Chuck Norris jealous, or watching a newcomer fight through the end of a tough WOD with everything they have, long after everyone is finished... the box is a daily reminder that there is greatness within all of us, if we are willing to dig deep to find it. Being surrounded by greatness makes me want to be great, too. So when the opportunity finally arose to do something great... to look fear in the face, take a stand, and fight for who I am and what I believe in... I was ready to seize that opportunity. It is virtually impossible to be surrounded by these tremendous people, day after day, and not be inspired. And that inspiration has made all the difference to me.
I'm thankful that, between those four walls, I've never felt like I had to be anyone but myself. That I was comfortable in my own skin for the first time in my life. That I could let my crazy, insecure, obsessive-compulsive freak flag fly, and no one thought any less of me for it. At the box, we are family... immediately and unconditionally. When you walk in that garage door, you join the family. And the family that Frans together, stands together. :) Over the past several months, as I discovered pieces of myself that were unconventional and scary to most of the world, my box family stood behind me. Made me feel like it was okay to be this person... to be who I am, to love who I love, to live life to the fullest every single day, without worrying about getting approval from anyone but myself. And while I've realized that no place is truly free of judgment, and that people will always talk, I've been so enormously thankful to find that the vast majority of this family was supportive and open-minded and, in some cases, even proud of me. And as I begin the slow and often difficult process of exposing my true self and this new life to the outside world, it is such a blessing to have that constant reminder, from the wonderful people at TPA, that it doesn't really matter what anyone else thinks. That the truly important thing is to be happy. With the help of my friends, my family, I finally believe that. I am finally not only okay with who I am... but actually like the person I've become. For the first time, I find myself living a life of which I can be proud. Not because of how much I can back squat, or where I find myself on the leaderboard... but because of who I have become. Because I finally can say that I think I am a decent human being... an honest person, a person with strength of conviction, who stands up for the things in which she believes. Because I have finally taken control of my life... have stopped waiting for change to come to me, and started making change happen for myself. Because I know who I am, what I want, and am not willing to settle for anything less than true happiness. I used to think it was selfish to put happiness above all else; that happiness was supposed to be a byproduct of doing everything else right. But I'm learning that you can't really make other people happy if you're unhappy yourself. That you can't truly love another, until you learn to love yourself. And I'm learning that, in finding happiness, I have also become a better friend. A better nurse. A better coworker. A better daughter and sister and aunt. A better person, in so many ways. Yes, I still have doubts and fears and insecurities. I think we all do. But I don't let those insecurities run my life anymore, or stop me from doing what I love and being who I am. There are still days when I leave the box knowing that I could have tried harder, pushed more, been better. But I'm learning not to let small failures slow down progress in the big picture. Yes, there is still a small part of me that is scared of all of the changes I'm making, and how they will impact my life in the long run, and the fact that there are people in my life who will never approve or understand. But I've also learned that fear is a part of life, and we choose whether it holds us back or makes us stronger. And I'm choosing the latter.
If that's what comes from "drinking the Kool Aid"... I say give me that pitcher and a wall to smash through, because I'll take happiness and strength over doubt and weakness any day.
OOOOH YEAH!
(Please excuse my uncontainable need to reference bad 80's television advertisements. And if you were too young to catch it... well, shit. That would just make me feel old. So don't tell me.)
Yep. Four walls. One garage door. Some mats. Some bumper plates. To anyone who doesn't understand, that's all it looks like. But to me, it's so much more. Within those walls, I've found strength. Confidence. Courage. True friendship. Myself. And love... the kind of epic, life-changing love that makes you fall asleep with a huge smile on your face every night, and wake up every morning glad to be alive. The kind of love that makes you wonder how you survived without it, because for the first time you feel whole and complete and absolutely fulfilled in every way. The kind of love that makes you a better person, and makes life so beautiful that you can hardly even believe it's real. But that, my friends, is a story for another blog post. :)
So much change. So much growth. So many gifts. I couldn't possibly be more thankful for that place, or those people. And to think, it all started with a step through those garage doors. One step. A step I almost didn't take because I was tired, and feeling lazy, and had an episode of Grey's Anatomy DVRed that seemed like a much more enticing way to spend an evening. But something made me take that step anyways. And it has changed everything.
It seems like a dream, how content I feel right now. How amazing it is to finally feel happy. And it took a huge leap of faith to get me here. But when I think about it, it wasn't just that one leap. If the same opportunity had presented itself a year ago, I don't know that I would have even recognized it... and I definitely wouldn't have had the strength or courage to jump in after it. It took so many steps to get me to the precipice... and each step was just as important, in its own way, as the big leap.
I think back to all of those steps, and how easy it would have been not to take them. There was the step I took into Mojo to buy my first good pair of running shoes. I could have easily used my bad knees as an excuse to continue plodding fruitlessly along on the elliptical machine in my basement until I got bored and went off in search of a nice cheese platter. But instead I took the step, and was able to start running, which started everything. There was the step into TPA for the first time... the fateful Google search that almost ended in a big wimp-out and another night in front of the TV (and probably more cheese), but instead turned into one of the best decisions I've ever made. There was the step into the TPA Christmas Party last year, when I almost didn't go because I was still relatively new and painfully shy and unsure of my place at the box. But I took that step, and ended up meeting, for the first time, the person who would later go on to change and enrich my life more than anyone else I've ever met. There was the step I took into the box at 5:45am on the morning of Open WOD 13.1... something that scared the shit out of me, that I almost managed to find an excuse to skip, but which ended up turning into an enormously educational and empowering 5-week adventure with some truly amazing people. The first step I took onto the turf at RAW for the Patriot Games... knowing I was underprepared and over-faced and was playing the role of the flat tire on an otherwise stacked team that deserved so much better. But I did it anyways, and did my best, and it ended up changing me in ways that I can't even explain, in such a positive way. My first step back into the box when my life went haywire this summer, after I found out that everyone was talking and everyone knew my secret... terrified of being judged and whispered about and disapproved of. But my wonderful friends in the 8:30 crew didn't miss a beat, and treated me just as they always have: with kindness, acceptance, and respect. And I've never been afraid to step into the box since.
So many steps. Some seemingly insignificant. All truly life-changing.
When I say that I have turned my life upside down this year, I am not exaggerating. When I describe my leap of faith as "epic", I mean it. And the rewards of that leap have been equally epic. I'm in the best place I've ever been, and sometimes, it takes an enormous leap to get where you need to be. But sometimes, you're closer than you think. Sometimes, greatness is just outside your reach. Sometimes, all it takes is one small step.
I'm certainly not in any place to be giving anyone advice... God knows, the last 6 months of my life have been a bizarre mix of Jerry-Springer-worthy and Lifetime-movie material, and I'm still trying to catch my breath from the whirlwind of change. But there is one thing that I have learned, which I think applies to just about everyone.
When faced with the choice between standing still and taking a step forward... take the step.
Choose movement. Choose progress. Choose action. Choose change.
If given the choice to step forward, take it. If given the opportunity to do something positive for yourself, seize it. If the world is trying to change you, let it. Change can be terrifying. But it can also be beautiful and healthy and exactly what you need. And no matter how intimidating it may seem to make changes in your life, it is so much scarier to be stagnant... immobilized, frozen by doubt and insecurity, at a dead stand-still. I believe we are born to learn and grow and change an evolve, and we can't do that if we're stuck in our tracks.
So, take the step. Even if you don't know where it's leading you... take it anyways. Even if you're not sure you're going in the right direction... go there anyways. You'll never know what's out there if you don't step out of your cheese-and-martini comfort zone and take a look around. You'll never know how far you can go, until you get started.
And you never know which step is going to be the one that changes your life forever.
“There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.” ~Nelson Mandela
Back in the saddle! Thank you, TPA, for getting me there!
Gratuitous photo of me playing with an elephant. Just because.
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