Give credit where credit is due

It is said that we can be our biggest critics and that it is much easier to see the flaws and faults than it is to see what, perhaps, others see. I have always been critical of myself and have, for most of my life, made the choice to sit back and observe other’s successes rather than fail trying to create my own.

If I did try and didn’t live up to my expectations, I would make an excuse as to why I failed. I would think that others were judging me or that I, somehow, let them down by not being better than I was. I would think that I was going to be disliked and not part of the “in-crowd”.

I’ve struggled with this for as long as I can remember and in the past it has prevented me from trying new things or going after what I wanted. I mention this today because this morning I woke up knowing that I was going over to my Crossfit gym to do 15.1. And the anxiety I had was unbearable. I didn’t have anxiety about working out, or having my reps counted by a judge, or the pressure of competing with the Crossfit community…I had anxiety over the fact that I was going to have to do the scaled version.

I fretted and paced and visited the bathroom several times before even heading to the gym. Thoughts raced through my mind of not being good enough, not being strong enough. I kept thinking that everyone was going to judge me as weak and less than.

In reality, I felt comfortable with everything except for the Snatches. The RX weight being 75# and the scaled weight being 55#. So, there I was fretting over 20 pounds. Was this really taking over my mind and body? Why yes, it was. I felt sick. I wanted to do RX so bad because I didn’t want the others to think I was weak.

How totally ridiculous!

In the end I did the scaled WOD and, apparently, I killed it. I was able to complete 4 rounds and 22 reps in the 9 minute allotted time. If I would have attempted to do RX, I probably would have failed at my first round of Snatches and frustrated the hell out of myself… and flat out quit.

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As for the second part of the workout, I had 6 minutes to complete a one rep max Clean and Jerk. I knew that in the past I was able to do 95#, so, although I was not mentally sure I could do it today, that was my goal.

My plates kept getting stuck on the bar when I was trying to switch them out and my loud scream of “FUUUUUUUCK” could probably be heard for miles. And when time was called I leaned up against the wall, cradled my head in my arms and tears of anger filled my eyes. I was only able to do 85#.

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And as I reread that, the word “only” sticks out to me. Here in lies the problem…am I really criticizing the fact that today I could “only” pick up 85 pounds off the ground and throw it over my head? I compared myself to my peers who were lifting over 100 pounds and I got down on myself thinking I was so weak.

I want to turn this around and make it more of motivation to keep trying than a deterrent. At times I want to slap myself across the face to make myself wake up. There are people who can’t even get out of bed or walk out the door to do a workout even remotely close to what I did today. Hell, I was one of those people during the months of October through December of 2014.

Give credit where credit is due.

Sure, I have a long way to go, but I need to stop worrying about not being the best, and just try my best. And when my peers cheer me on and say that I “killed it”, I need to, and want to, believe that I actually did.

We need to break-up

I’ve come to terms with the fact that I have a very serious, unhealthy relationship in my life. I knew it all along, but this week it became painfully obvious. I need to find a way to break-up…with food.

I’m obsessed with it. It’s all I think about. It’s the only thing that is standing in the way of 100% success in my prep. I need to get a handle on it, or I will not be able to do my best on April 25.

And although I knew that food was an issue for me, truth be told, thisĀ true realization came during a very unfortunate experience. I had a cheat meal. An entire pizza. It’s not because I ate the pizza that made me realize this, it’s the fact that I ate the whole thing. It was almost like I stopped breathing. Nothing else mattered in the entire world. Just me, that cheese, the sauce, and the crispy crust. I had to have it. All of it. And nothing was going to stand in my way. Five minutes after my last slice, I was in the bathroom. My stomach was ripped apart because I was not used to eating this way anymore. I was miserable for the rest of the night as I made frequent trips to the bathroom. And in-between my tears, I realized that this could be avoided if I regained control of myself and ended this unhealthy obsession.

The most difficult thing is going to be during the three to four days that I have PMS. I turn to food because it tends to be the only thing that can calm me down. I’m lucky enough to be cramp free and pain-free during this time, and I don’t even have my period for very long…two to three days at the most. But the cravings and the emotions that I experience make me feel like a troll living under a bridge waiting for the next Billy Goat to cross over it so I can rip him apart with my teeth.

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I will have PMS two more times before my show. The second time will the week of my show. That will really prove how strong I am.

I’m going to do it.

I have to do it.

9 more weeks…

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A nice audible fart…

Following my run in with the Snickers on Friday, I proceeded to eat two donuts and an entire personal sized pizza. After which I cried my eyes out and fell asleep on my couch shortly after 6:30 p.m.

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When I saw my coach on Saturday morning, he knew something was wrong and after I fumbled my way through my workout, we had a long conversation where I admitted my food defeat and confessed that I didn’t think I was mentally strong enough to do this. Talking to him made me feel much better. It’s going to be a long journey. Not only do I need to get my body looking good enough to go on stage, I also need to get my mind right.

I’ve talked to a close friend who has been on this journey before. She has been a competitor for several years now and has done more than extremely well. She told me that no one mentions the meltdowns, the doubts, and the back tracks. What we hear about is the sweet taste of success once the chicken and broccoli has been consumed and the sweat has been wiped away.

When I think about it, I’ve only really been at it for sixteen days. Sixteen days. In the grand scheme of things, that’s not a long time. Sure, it feels long because I want to eat what I want to eat instead of sticking to my meal plan. And my muscles are sore allllll the time. But, is sixteen days really enough to change my body inside and out? Clearly not. It’s going to take a lot longer so I must be prepared.

On a lighter note, I cried like a little bitch during my workout yesterday. It’s been a long time since that has happened. My mind kept saying that I could keep going but my quads said otherwise.

Oh, and I farted during my ab workout. A nice audible fart. Twice. That was fun.

It was nice of the coach and my training partner to pretend they didn’t hear it.

Guess nobody mentions that either.

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Changes in Latitudes. Changes in Attitudes.

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Today marks one week since I’ve started serious training and dieting towards my goal to compete in my first bikini competition. Quite honestly, I’m extremely impressed with myself. I have not once cheated, unless of course you count the apple I ate last Wednesday or the scoops of almond butter I had over the weekend. I haven’t had a pretzel in a week. Or pineapple (my faaaaavorite). Or wine. Or cheese. And trust me, I want pizza.

There have been plenty of times that I have wanted to cheat, but I’d only be cheating myself out of the money that I’ve already spent to hire a trainer and I’d be cheating myself out of my commitment. And that is, finally, enough for me to stay focused.

It wasn’t until yesterday that I started to notice a change in my stomach. Not only do I not have a constant bloated feeling, but it’s flatter and I can already see more definition. I suppose that, and my arms, will be the easiest, quickest places to see a change. My backside, however, will take a lot more time and effort. As will my inner and outer thighs.

When I think of how, just twenty days ago, I was a mess. How I was held captive by my emotions. How I was paralyzed by my personal situation. How I had no desire to live. How I felt I had no purpose. It’s amazing and I am relieved that I have found something that I can focus full force on. I have no time to be depressed. I have no one to worry about other than me.

This is taking time. This is taking discipline. This is taking dedication. This is proving to me that I can finally do something for myself. And I love it. My body is sore, everywhere. I’m tired. Oh, so tired. I’m overwhelmed by the food prep. I’m always doing dishes. It’s expensive. I’m hungry more often than I used to be. I have over cooked my rice and burnt my chicken (seriously, it could’ve been mistaken for sawdust when I finally managed to cut it open), but I ate it anyway. The workouts suck and are fun all at the same time. And… I. Am. Happy.

Me? Selfish? Ok, if I must

For the last seven years, at least, I have wanted to compete in a bikini competition…but my excuses have always prevented me from attaining this goal. However, now that I have made this commitment to myself, excuses are a thing of the past…sooooo, yesterday I hired a coach and tomorrow I will begin training for my first competition!

Honestly, I have never been so ready for this in my entire life. Sure, I’ve wanted to do it, but I wasn’t ready. I’ve reached a point in my life where I’ve discovered the true meaning of not being able to control anything or anyone other than myself. Being a control freak, it’s no wonder that it has taken me so long to figure that out.

And, honestly, I have never been so scared about this in my entire life…because I actually think I can do this. Usually, when I put my heart and soul into accomplishing something, I succeed beyond my expectations. I drive full force into it. I feel that happening with this. The feeling is amazing and there’s no looking back.

However, I’m also scared because I. LOVE. FOOD. Almost as much as I love breathing. Most days, as I’m making my morning coffee, I think of all the yummy things I’ll eat that day. I, by no means, eat poorly on a regular basis, but I do like to eat a lot of food. I haaaaate being hungry. So, I worry about the diet portion of this adventure. And, as with so many people, I eat my emotions, so I’m going to have to keep those bitches in check.

I took charge of my Stressor on Thursday and have changed the dynamics of the relationship. I’m hoping that this proactive move will eliminate the reason why I’ve been so emotional the past four months. I’ve also made the choice to share the decision to compete with a small circle of friends/family; sharing it with only those who I know support me regardless of what I do. I don’t want too many people making judgements or sharing their opinions about this with me. I’m not doing this for the benefit or acceptance of anyone else. I want to do it for me. Due to the fact that I have decided to do this, I need to have the least amount of outside stress as possible. I need to be selfish. And I’m not very good at that. But, I’ll learn.