You've Got This!

My body is still  filled with the sweet ache of last week's workouts, which...if I may add (with a celebratory pat on my own back), included a WOD at RX weight, and my first successful big girl box jump.  That's right, people.  I made 65# overhead squats and a 20" box  my bitch.  These accomplishments, which some may consider minor, have set a fire under my big old ass, and it's burnin' baby!  I'm clear-headed.  I'm determined.  I'm happy.

It's Monday.  This would usually be enough to piss me off, but I don't give a shit.  Bring it Monday.  You are just another day to me. I'm ready to demolish you, and this week - the final week of the nutritional challenge.  I've got it in the bag, bitches.

Why do I CrossFit?  Reason #24,509: 

I grew up as the only girl on an all-boy street.  Being a rotund little gal without a whole lot of athletic ability, I was always being made fun of for the things I couldn't do. Every once in a while, I would emerge on the winning side of a physical scuffle, but I could always count on being picked last, if they let me play at all.   And yes, the boys would throw me a bone during hockey season, but being tied to a net and taking full-force slap-shots is still not my idea of a good time, with or without the protective gear. 

Life is unfortunately filled with tons of people who are just waiting to tell you about the things you can't do.  

Every night I walk into the box a little bit nervous or scared because I know I'm going to have to do something I've never done before.  Whether I'm having to run a little farther, or push a new weight, I'm tempted to tune into the distant voices in my head from those neighborhood boys, taunting me, and telling me that I'm not good enough, strong enough, fast enough, skinny enough, etc., but I can't.  Their voices get muffled.  I just can't concentrate on them when I have a room full of people telling me - shouting at me, actually, that I CAN do it.  These people are sincerely confident in me and my abilities, and they will scream at me, and for me, until my clock stops.  They believe in me.  They believed in me when I walked into the gym 10 months ago unable to air squat, and they believed in me last week as I squatted 65 pounds, overhead.  They literally held my hand until I was comfortable jumping on the 20" box by myself.  They stood on the sidelines like proud parents, nodding their heads in approval to let me know that not only am I good enough, but that that they know I'm going to be even better than I am today, tomorrow.  This is a group of people who don't necessarily care whether I'm the fastest, or the fittest, or the smartest, or the prettiest.  They are just genuinely interested in my happiness and success, despite the fact that my accomplishments bring them nothing but joy and communal pride.  That is why I CrossFit. 

Clear eyes. Full hearts. Can't lose. GFCM.

I Want Candy

We are almost through with week three of the nutritional challenge, and I am having wild cravings and food hallucinations.  The first two weeks went so well that I thought the last four would be a breeze...not so much. I've been hungry non-stop, and sugar, which was mostly unappetizing until Sunday, is now all I can think about.  I blame this mostly on Paula Dean.  I don't want to be over-dramatic, but she is clearly a life-ruiner.  I think I noted that during the challenge, I would be avoiding watching The Food Network.  While I generally enjoy shows about food and cooking, they put naughty ideas in my head and lead me to make poor nutritional choices.  Well...I was having some back spasms on Sunday (post Guerrilla vs. Guerrilla), and wound up laid out on the couch while Brandon ran to the store for pain meds.  I noticed too late that he had inadvertently left me immobilized, with the remote out of reach, and tuned into Paula Dean, who was making some sort of ooey gooey butter cake concoction, which lulled me into a hefty 4 hour nap.  I woke up from that nap cranky, nasty, ravenous, lacking resolve, and itching for sugar.  The Diva of Diabetes set me on a rampage.

Admittedly, Paula's powers were too strong for me to ignore.  I cheated on Valentines Day.  That's right.  I am a big, fat, sugar-obsessed, CHEATER!  I had a cup of chocolate ice cream drizzled in olive oil and sprinkled with sea salt.  It was amazing - every last spoonful.  So, two out of three of my sundae items were paleo, but it was a nasty little splurge.  To my credit, it wasn't a wasted "cheat."  It would definitely fall into the category of cheats that are MAJORLY worth it. Like the kinda cheat you would slap yo mamma for.  BUT, instead of quelling my beastly cravings, it fed the sugar fire.  

I'm getting irritable.  I'm getting hurtful.  I'm getting violent.  I almost shanked my lovely friend/co-worker Christina for her Crumbs cupcake yesterday. She sat at her desk and enjoyed every last milky-white-rainbow -sprinkle-covered  morsel of her stuffed vanilla treat. I pouted at my desk, devising a strategy for inconspicuously putting her in a sleeper-hold so that I could jack her cupcake, take the subway to the hood, score a syringe, and somehow shoot that cakey deliciousness directly into my bloodstream so not one fucking molecule of that bad boy was wasted.   Just typing about that cursed cupcake is making my mouth water and my stomach growl.  

I'm not sure what the deal is.  Last week I was having to force myself to eat.  This week, I can't seem to find satiation. It's fucking frustrating.  I'm hoping this is just part of the adjustment or I'm going to go on a rager, mentally and physically abusing those who stand between me and their desserts.  

On a positive note, while the scale is not doing MUCH in the way of movement, I definitely can tell that certain parts of me are a little leaner than they were three weeks ago.  Workout-wise, I also feel like my endurance may be improving.  In the past few WODs, I haven't needed as much recovery time between sets. I knocked out 65 pull-ups on the green band AND had an almost-respectable "Karen" time (150 wall balls for non-CrossFitters) that involved me actually hitting the 10 foot target. 

I'm generally feeling less like a slob (except for the part where I am dreaming about eating candy bars until I explode, "Seven" style).  

It's Beginning to Smell a Lot Like Bacon, Everywhere I Go

This bacon is rated PG-13

We are balls deep into week 2 of the Guerrilla Fitness Nutritional Challenge, and instead of emitting my typically delicious scent comprised of citrus soap and Philosophy's Amazing Grace, I reek of freshly fried bacon.  Of course, as many of you meat eaters know, bacon is wonderful...it's not an alltogether awful thing to smell like.

I'm happy to report, that thus far, my newly donned pork belly eau de toilette has been the only downside to the challenge. Unless I'm hallucinating from severe carbohydrate deprivation, I feel like clean eating is giving me more energy. I've been super productive the past few days, even as I continue to nurse a lingering upper respiratory infection.  I'm sleeping great. I'm not bloated. I have no stomach pain.  The sugar cravings are getting easier to deal with, and overall, I'm just starting to feel less hungry.  I'm turning into a Paleo believer. Can I get a hallelujah?

I'm taking advantage of the recovery WOD options this week, but I'm interested to see if there are any noticeable performance improvements once I get back to the full intensity workouts.  If I carry on feeling this good, I may be running circles around you clowns and popping out one-arm pull-ups. I'll be sure to blow you a kiss with my free arm.  BOOM!

In reality, I would shit a pile of pure joy in my pants if, at the end of the challenge, I could run a 400 in less than 2 minutes and get through a WOD on the green resistance band without swallowing my own vomit.

If nothing else, this challenge is certainly a great way to further exercise self-discipline, which I had very little of before joining CrossFit.  I'm sticking to prescribed Paleo with carb restriction (below or about 50 carbs a day) as closely as I possibly can. I'm using food as fuel, as opposed to fun, for the first time; and I don't know why I'm surprised that my body is responding positively to this new methodology.  If I'm actually real-deal hungry (not just Fatty McFatterson bored) my body will give me a signal, and I, in turn, will feed it.  If I'm not hungry, there will be no signal, and I will not eat, even if it's "snack time."  What a novel concept!

Peace, love, and bacon...LOTS of bacon - Jilly

This Shit is Bananas!

I get 195,000 hits when I Google, "is CrossFit a cult?"
I asked trusty Mr. Google this question because some of my friends were tossing around this very idea.  Sure, they smiled and nodded like good friends do when I told them I joined a CrossFit gym, but they were secretly sitting on eggshells, carefully watching me, and waiting for the familiar and frightening glaze to start forming in my eyes. To some, I'm spontaneous and cooky.  To these life-long friends, I'm absolutely predictable. They have been through way too much with me. Because they love me like a fat kid loves cake, they knew this "CrossFit Situation" had to be handled particularly delicately, and thus, they recently "sat me down" for a mini intervention. 

Trust when i say, they had every right to be concerned as I have a long history of throwing myself into things in the most apeshit of fashions.

I will fully admit, this has always been a fatal flaw of mine. If I'm into something, I will get innapropriately obsessed with that thing (I'm talkin' utterly bananas!).  I will go rogue, cutting off all contact with the outside world, to focus on that thing, and that thing only.  I will then take that thing, no matter what it is, and rock.the.ever.living.shit.out.of.it! That is, until I get bored or hurt.

Some examples of things I've gotten into that I've taken too damn far:

• Eating
• Not Eating (see also Stacker 2 and/or 3)
• Drinking
• Not Drinking
• Jesus (I still got mad love for the big JC)
• Acid
• *NSYNC (I'm still apologizing for this phase)
• Knee-highs (this phase hasn't even started, but I'm warning you that I'm going to take it way too far)

When we get down to it, I'm a sicko with an addictive personality, and a strong tendency to partake in "cult-like" behavior. The first step is admitting you have a problem, right?

So am I drinking the proverbial Kool-Aid again?  The answer is "yes," and it's also "no".

The truth of the matter is I'm totally into this CrossFit thing. I have a huge boner for my gym.  I get a super "high" after each workout.  I love my coaches and the members. I love the results.  Honestly, I don't see how anyone could come into my gym and NOT fall in love with the program and the people.  Do I feel a strong sense of community?  Yes!  Do I find myself thinking about CrossFit all the time?  Yes!  Do I find pleasure in the pain at the end of my workout?  YES!  That sounds very cultish - but stay with me here...

While I am committed to CrossFit and my health overall, I have no plans to quit my job, shave my head, and set up a shrine to the CrossFit founders in my secret dungeon (location not to be disclosed for the safety of my future obsessive endeavors).  And while I am going harder at this than anything ever before (*NSYNC choreography aside), I trust my coaches 100%, and know that they would never even allow me to do anything if they thought it would harm me.  Shit, these coaches are so smart, they even limit the amount of times you can workout a week, because I'm sure they anticipated there would be bozos like me who would overdue it if they were able to.

I know that I am blessed with an amazing family and the most wonderful friends a girl could ever ask for, and I PROMISE that I will not lose sight of this again.  In fact, for the first time, this is an obsession of mine that I believe can exist harmoniously with the rest of the pieces of my life that are already in place. 

It's an odd thing, but when you are forced to push yourself physically, you almost have no choice but to get stronger mentally - and I THINK - because of this, I just might wind up being a better wife, dog mom, daughter, sister, friend, etc.

But as all things must come to an end, so must this post.  I'm glad my friends care about me enough to ensure I'm not drifting down crazy creek yet again!  I hope they know now that I'm going to ensure there is plenty of room in my life for my old loves and my new loves, although, they are going to have to agree to make some more room in their lives for my new muscles ;). 

If loving CrossFit is wrong, I don't want to be right! (SEXUAL CHOCOLATE)

I've Fallen, and I Can't Get Up!

Were you wondering where I've been?  I didn't think so.I'm certainly going to tell you though. 

Brandon and I returned from a long weekend in Chicago during the wee hours of the morning.  I had initially hoped that I would come back from this trip well-rested and ready to thrive at the gym, but unfortunately, my body decided otherwise...

We had a great time on Saturday and Sunday, we checked out Navy Pier and ate some of the most delicious food Chicago has to offer.  I also had a snow cone made out of vodka - SAY WHAT?!?!  We clocked about 15 miles of walking AND did a mini-hotel-room-WOD.  I was really feeling like a responsible vacationer who had fully repented for eating a Chicago-style hot dog without shame, but then, Monday morning came (Dun, Dun, Dun).  Competition fishing was on (again), I was boppin' around the hotel room deciding what to wear for my power shopping trip, when WHAM!  Don't cha know I threw my back out while reachin' down to hop into my underoos?  I wish I got hurt in a less geriatric manner, but that's the awful truth, and this wouldn't be an effective blog if I lied to you!

So now, I'm laid up on the couch, with a heating pad and a bag of frozen brussel sprouts googling "Can I WOD with back pain?"  In the past, I would have taken this as an easy excuse to freeze my gym membership for 6 to 9 months to ensure a full recovery, but that's not who I am anymore. 

Now, I'm bummed that I can't kick the shit out of tonight's WOD (2K row, 200 double under jump ropes, and a max deadlift).  I refuse to get too comfortable on this couch.  I'm going to stretch, pop Aleve and move around until WOD time.  I'm going to show up early and talk to the coach.  If I'm cleared to do a modified WOD, great!  If I can't (and coach knows best) I'll cheerlead.  The only thing I don't want to do is stay home.

Short-Term Goal Update:
While being crippled sure is a temporary downer, I do have good news to report!  At the last WOD, I officially switched from the rings to band assisted pull-ups/chin-ups. This particular WOD (lovingly referred to as the Heavy Angie) included 50 pull-ups/chin-ups.  It sure took a while to knock those suckers out, but I did it!

Coming Soon:
It's super awesome that a bunch of you have been reading this thing. You've had a bunch of great questions that I hope to address in the next few posts.  Until then, spanks for reading, and continue to believe in the healing power of unicorns...

Do it to me one more time, once is never enough...

I've been thinking about what my new short-term goals should be, and this led me to consider the short-term goals I made and achieved over the past two years.  The first came in September 2009, fresh off of a longer than usual business trip to Rome, where my diet consisted only of bread, olive oil, cheese, and wine. Being insulin resistant, and obviously a glutton for punishment, I stepped off of the plane (side note: Jay-Z was also on this plane, HOV<>!) fatter and sicker than ever. My first goal was to lose weight...any amount of weight. My second goal was to not be morbidly obese. My third goal was to run for longer than 2 minutes without stopping.  On and on the goal setting process went.  Each time I met a goal, I shocked myself. I continued to lose weight (at a very slow but healthy pace).  I moved from the morbidly obese category into the less undesirable obese category, and then into the plain-Jane overweight category.

Tangent:  Imagine, if you will, me, not too long ago, in only my underthings, jumping around the bathroom joyously shouting, "I'M OBESE, I'M ONLY OBESE NOW, BABE!" <end tangent>. 

I was eventually able to run a 5K without stopping, and although it was most likely the slowest 5K ever ran in the entire history of running, I felt accomplished. I also felt bored. I traded in running shoes for dance shoes and started Zumba. While it wasn't exactly the down-and-dirty choreography I loved to bust out in my younger days, it wasn't Sweatin' to the Oldies either*.  Whatever it was, it kept me off the couch (I'm so sorry Detective Stabler).

Around this time, a good friend of mine (Paula) started to talk about this whack-ass-torture-chamber-of-a-gym she recently joined, where people did "CrossFit". It sounded awful to me.  I told her so. Each next time we met, she unveiled more details about this gym, and I responded by calling her things like "maniac" and "psycho".  I couldn't understand why anyone (especially a girl) would want to do endurance and strength training when they could get an adequate cardio workout shaking their groove thing to Shakira. Wouldn't Paula get huge?  Wouldn't she want to start oiling up, wearing triangle bikinis, and flexing her muscles to flashy music on ESPN?  Thankfully, the answer to all of these questions I had is "no". Paula is not huge, in fact, she is getting quite small.  I can almost fit her in my pocket (but she will still kick your ass). Fast Forward to two-ish months ago.

Note to the reader: As well as being a great friend, Paula is also one of my tattoo artists. 

During a particularly painful tattoo session, in an attempt to get Paula to talk for an extended period of time without needing a response from me (so that I could avoid whimpering), I asked her to explain CrossFit again in explicit detail.  As a lover of CrossFit and Guerrilla Fitness, Paula went on and on.  Being in a super hazy state of consciousness from the pain, I was brought to some new-age level of understanding for the first time in my life.  Don't get me wrong - nothing Paula said this time was drastically different from anything she had told me before. Everything still sounded absolutely terrible (to me).  Everything about the workouts still seemed too difficult, too stressful, and honestly - too impossible for someone who was in my physical condition. CrossFit sounded like the opposite of fun**.  That's when it clicked - this was exactly what I needed in my life - something that forced me to push through the bubble gum limits I would otherwise set for myself.

Where were we?  Oh yes, goals.  So here are several of my new short-term goals.  I'm going to share them with you so that you can keep me accountable.

1. Add a well-executed girly push-up to my workout repetoire (Nope, don't "have one" yet)***
2. Get faster on runs
3. Move from the rings to a band-assisted pull-up
4. Begin to incorporate "cleaner" food choices into my diet
5. Successfully complete a 30-day Paleo challenge after European vacation (we come home October 3rd)
6. Stop whining about the things I can't do yet

*No disrespect to Richard Simmons - he runs this motherf*cker, shut yo mouth!
**CrossFit actually is fun (most of the time)
***"Have one"or"Have a": CrossFit terminology for the ability to perform a specific movement.  Example:  Coach 1: "Hey Jill, do you have a pullup yet?"

Thanks to everyone who read the opening post and to those who left encouraging comments!  I hope you continue to enjoy my blabber because I'm really amped to keep this up.

A special thanks to Paula for being Paula :).