This is becoming one of my favorite blogs. Its yet another example of the mindset that crossfitters tend to have. My mindset seems to be directly tied into my hip and hasn't been so great lately either. I am working to be grateful for my injury because this is my great struggle right now. Not cancer, addiction, job loss or a failed marriage or relationship (as has been the case with WAY too many of my friends lately....seriously. I'm starting to think I am bad luck...run away from me oh-partnered people). So in the effort to keep my head on straight and because the bad-ass Mel from theclothesmakethegirl.com did this I thought it might be a good idea for me too.
Five things you love about yourself: I am a fighter. I have fought for every damn thing I have. My education (that a learning disability and screwball attitude did not predict), my peaceful life, my relationships, my career... I don't give up. In fact, I'm a little like a terrier with a ball. I try to always do the right thing. Sometimes it sucks and makes me feel like a tool. It is difficult to blaze me and not get verbally knocked on your ass. I'm not impressed by material shit.
Five things your body can do. Even in the state my hip is in.... I can walk. I can see. I can work. I can hear. I can think with a clear head....which means I'm not an addict, I'm not crazy, and I make fair decisions.
Five things for which you’re grateful. That my devastating trouble right now is just my hip. I have the means to see the single best orthopedic surgeon specializing in hips in the United States. He fixed Alex Rodriguez's hip. I have plenty of good food to eat and options around food (many folks don't have the option to go paleo). My dogs. They make my life happier every day. My small blood family and my larger chosen family.
Five things that make you happy you’re alive. Jeans Spring flowers Loud music Coffee Sunshine
Five people (or pets) who you love. Hank Aaron, Buster Dogless, Walter Payton The boy Wonder Mom and Dad Staci and Jenny Al and Ari The Pats
Some of these came very easy. The things I love about myself was difficult. So was the 'things my body can do.' It was difficult to NOT write: pullups, pushups, run 5 miles, etc. But when I look at the things that are left...really these are the most important.
Its no secret that I have a close relationship with a wonderful mother. I could write several books about the strength and beauty that she brought to both my childhood and to my every day now. But when my dear friend, Chuck (who I consider a brother not of biology but of chance and blessing) asked for touching mom stories the wheels began to turn in my noggin. Chuck is a fitness trainer and gym owner. Really, he is so much more than this, but this description will have to suffice for now as this is a story for him rather than about him. Because he of his occupation, because of our history together, and because his call was directed in large part to the members of his gym, I began to think of my own mom and how she shaped my healthy lifestyle.
Food is a big part of any home. It is a huge part of economically fragile families. When ends are low and there isn't a lot to share, food becomes a way to show love. My extended family, dysfunctional as it is, shows love with food. While I was (and still am) estranged from my extended family, I did maintain a relationship with my mom's paternal grandparents. At their home, pie was cut in quarters and cookies given by the stack. They lived in a triple (a triplex) in a neighborhood in Columbus that makes people's eyebrows raise when mentioned and is on the news daily for shootings. But these folks gave endlessly and selflessly. From them, my mom learned a love of food and so did I.
Times were not always easy financially in my family. We lived for a time in a camp trailer, and then a mobile home, and finally a large and lovely house in a 'good school district.' This was an investment my folks made for our future and they barely had money for furniture. As lovely as my mom made it look, I imagine that my friends would be surprised to know that it was all second hand. There wasn't much money for much besides necessities in my house. My parents bought used cars, fixed them at home, and drove them until the wheels fell off. They bought me a new outfit or two for school (new clothes were years apart for my parents). I babysat and had 2 jobs through high school so from 7th grade on, I bought most of my own clothes. I paid my own way when I went out with friends. Things were tight, but we were all working to get ahead. My dad made me pay the bills for him when I was in high school so that I'd know just how far money didn't stretch.
But one place where we splurged was food.
I was not raised with a mom who was constantly dieting. Obviously none of us ever wanted to be overweight. However, a Beyonce' body was much more desirable than an emaciated model body in my home. My mom, however, was always concerned with how healthy her family was. She kept a careful eye on what current theory was. Despite the extra cost, we ate low fat everything we could get our hands on, we only drank diet pop, wheat bread instead of white, not much red meat, turkey bacon instead of pork, juice available by the gallon (real juice not Sunny Delight). Before bottled water, she insisted we all drank water...and lots of it. She insisted on a hot breakfast every morning and for years I had to choke down oatmeal (not instant) with fruit and nuts before going to school. She insisted on fruits and vegetables. I remember one of the worst whippings I ever got being over my refusal to eat asparagus casserole. I literally ran away from it and hid behind the couch. Clearly I lost my damn mind. I got the wooden spoon over that one (oh get over it 'time out' parents.... I come from junkies and criminals and I grew up to be a doctor...clearly she got something right). There were discussions in my house about how unhealthy we would be if we ate like my extended family (cake for breakfast and no veggies at dinner).
My mom also taught me to share. She stood at the counter each night cutting me up carrots, filling my water bottle, and making me lean turkey sandwiches for lunch. Knowing one of my friends didn't have a mom who would do this...she packed HUGE lunches telling me, “now if you want to share with so-and-so you can.” She taught me about pride as well. She could have (and would have) packed two lunches. But that makes things obvious, doesn't it? Sharing, on the other hand, is just...sharing.
As I got older, I took responsibility for my own health. I became a vegetarian for many years and she supported this. I was an on and off gym rat, power walker, and eventually runner. My mom power walked with me, took interest in my running and at almost 60 goes to yoga with me every week. Later, when I began crossfit and went paleo she listened and learned and cut most refined sugar, many potatoes and much (not all) bread. She comments on my muscles and has encouraged me endlessly through this recent devastating hip injury. Now, I fix her paleo recipes and she calls me to find out how I make roasted asparagus. She has cut out all the 'low fat' foods and eats avocado with abandon. A friend recently moved a piece of furniture with her and told me, “now I know who you get your muscles from, Roo.”
Like my mom, I still show love with food. Its common for me to meet you at an event with paleo muffins, or some other treat. I have people over for dinner regularly . Nothing is fancy but there is plenty and your welcome to any of it. I may send you home with leftovers. Its old school, but its me. And I learned it from her. Just like I learned to eat asparagus. And I can do it these days without the wooden spoon....
I am having an insanely indulgent Sunday morning. It is 9:43 in the morning and I am still in bed in my boxers and beater. I'm drinking coffee, snuggling dogs (ok, praying to Jesus for patience about the little Jack Russell), looking for new Paleo recipes, talking with the boy and keeping an eye on the Food Network. Usually, I am up by now making some kind of Paleo Sunday brunch or contemplating a run of a few miles for enjoyment, not for training.
To be honest, a lot of my indulgence is a wee bit forced. I am on the DL. No not on the 'down low' hoping that no one finds out I like girls... I am on the disabled list... big time. I have been away from my box (what crossfitters call their gym spaces...they are little more than boxes with some heavy stuff, and pull up bars) for 3 months now. In January, my doc thought I was battling IT band issues and we treated accordingly. I was allowed to back to crossfit if I took it easy on the squats (to which I replied..."dude. do you know what crossfit is???") and went easy on the weight. The next monday I had this WOD:
My time on this workout should have been around 20 minutes. My coach told me to cut the burpees down to 10 because I was slow getting up and down due to my hip. Even with this cut, my time was almost 25 minutes and by round 3 I was doing my sit ups with my right leg straight out (instead of with my feet together and my legs in a diamond shape).
And I hurt. A lot. I typically rate my pain in PT as a 3 or 4 because really... I have no idea what to rate it. I figure a ten is getting it blown off in a James Bond-esque adventure...so when I found myself limping and holding up some bricks instead of walking around talking to kids at lunch duty because I want to rest my hip I guessed that must be a pain level of 4. My physical therapist told me (what he does to me makes him break a sweat) that he thinks my 3 is a 7 for someone else. After the WOD above....I gave myself a 6 or 7.
My therapist did a whole bunch of therapist stuff and after discussing my symptoms with another therapist in the office they decided it was very possible I had a labral tear. A tear in my hip cartilage. In the meantime, I could do no things. I had a very fun MRI where they injected dye into my hip. The results came in no visible tear. My words to my doc were, "shit. now what?" Because while I wasn't jumping up and down over the idea of surgery...it was a fix. This was near the end of January. They weren't sure what to do, so they schedule me for some Active Release Therapy. All I will say about that is that on the pain scale, it came in just under my James Bond 10. And come March, I wasn't any better.
2 days a week in therapy, 2 days a week in ART I am not better. I think it hurts worse. Awesome. Finally, after talking with my therapist about this we discussed how they were totally stumped because every one of my symptoms presents itself like a labral tear. So finally this discussion occurred:
Me: Is there anyway that they could have misread my orthogram? Him: (red in the face and visibly uncomfortable) did anyone show you your lab report? Me: No. They just said my hip looked good. Him: The dye leaked out before the orthrogram. If you have tear...it could have leaked out of that. Me: (head spins off shoulders)
A lot of other talking happened. I've got the name of one of the best surgeons in the country who happens to be at OSU. However, I need to use kid gloves when I meet with my doc. because this therapist really put his butt on the line for me and I do not want to get him into trouble. But the bottom line is that the odds are stacked in favor of this injury being a tear that didn't show up because the dye leaked out. If you can figure out a reason why no one mentioned this shit to me, I'd love to hear it. The first time I was bracing myself up for surgery, my thinking was that at least it was in the winter, at least I caught it soon, I'd get back quickly, at least I'd be back by summer. Now, its looking like I'll spend my summer on crutches and I will spend at least 6 months total on the DL. A year and a half of building strength, muscles, form. A year and a half of training for my Level 2 Krav test (which would have been this Friday). A dead lift that my coach was commenting on...."your dead lift is getting pretty heavy isn't it??" *i could have kissed her!!* Thousands of pullups, situps, squats and lunges. Overhead squats where I went down and couldn't get back up. More blisters and ripped callouses than I can count. Bruises, shiners, knees to the chin. Gone.
I gave myself a weekend to be sad, to self medicate with non paleo meds like Cadbury eggs and a Shamrock Shake. I'm paying for that poision and have learned my damn lesson. Ugh... But today I'm back to myself. I am grateful for my paleo lifestyle. Considering I went from 4 crossfit workouts a week (and a couple Krav Maga classes and a run or two and a yoga session or two) to nothing. I'm even having a difficult time walking my dogs a couple of days a week slowly for a half hour at a time... I have lost a few pounds (muscle I'm sure...but my clothes fit about the same). I have had a couple of pity party wagon falls, but mostly I'm trying to eat clean so that when I come back, I can hit it hard and get my strength back soon.
Because my fun...is my sports. I love the people at my box. When I first started crossfit, the way the people who were finished working out would gather around those still battling their WOD and cheer totally freaked me out. I would think, "holy shit. are they being supportive of the lame-o?... like, 'isn't that sweet that she's trying so hard?'" On top of that I do NOT like to draw a lot of attention to myself. I just wished everyone would leave me alone and let me try not to puke/die in peace. And then I realized...this is just how cool the crossfit community is. No matter if you can do a workout beyond RX, at RX or modified.... before a WOD, we are all nervous, when the WOD is posted, we all think, "shit this is going to suck," during the WOD, we don't think anything besides 'try not to die' and 'only this many more,' and when its over, we all think "that sucked...but it was sort of awesome." When your partners cheer for you, they mean it. You ARE doing awesome. You CAN do it. All they want to do is be a part of your effort as soon as they get their breath back.
A few weeks ago, I went to the Arnold Classic to watch one of my coaches compete. I saw Arnold and the Hulk. But you almost couldn't tear me away from the crossifit competition (you can see my coaches judging and competing in this video... bad ass female doing pullups....is my coach who competed) I love this community I have found. I love this sport. I love the way we eat in my house. I am accountable and responsible for what goes in my mouth and where it comes from. I love what my body can do when I'm healthy. And considering that if this injury is the labral tear has been an injury for years... I am excited to see what I'll be able to do when it is fixed.
So I've given myself a weekend to mourn the wasted 3 months. To dread what may be coming. And now that's over. I'm going to be a grown up and look forward to the fun, sweat, and friendship that is coming to a box near me when I get past this.
A typical WOD
Some of the kick ass females I work out with while we rest after the 2nd WOD of the day at the OKM crossfit games this summer.
Me, trying not to die after my 3rd WOD of the day at the games this summer. At some point in this day, I wondered what kind of dysfunction I must have to love this so much. I was dog tired and almost cried when they had me compete in the finals (a 4th WOD), but I was having a ball!
Posts
