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Training #7: At the half point

Wednesday (CrossFit)
Bear crawl, duck walks, crab walks, banded shoulder stretch

CLEAN: 95lbs, lift from the ground, working on technique.

Assistance: 4×6 banded pull-ups with pause, side lunges (20lbs)

Metcon: 5 rounds, db swings (40 lbs), bear crawl, 2:46.

Thursday: 9.91 km, avg 6:54/km

Saturday (birthday run!): 10.38 km, avg 6:27/km

Sunday: 25.18 km, avg 6:04/km

As of today, we are 53 days away from el maratón!

In terms of training, I’m about half-way complete. Another 6 or 7 weeks to go and it’ll be October.

I’m feeling stronger and faster. My times are getting better and I feel more competent at CrossFit. In my mind, I’ve crossed the threshold of thinking/dreaming this could happen to tangibly envisioning crossing the finish line to making it a reality.

From what I’ve heard, this is the danger zone. In the marathon, the half-way mark is second hardest part to endure, after the Wall. The runner is settled in and now the initial excitement and energy has worn off. The finish line is off in the distance and right now, it’s the runner and the road. And that’s it.

It still requires faith to realize that the finish line will be there when you get there. For me, I think that it’s not running toward the finish line but the finish line running toward me. But that’s a long way off still. Now, it’s not a dream or a vision or a bet. It’s work. Hard work.

While each run is getting easier, training is getting harder. I can’t over-train because I need to conserve my energy and be mindful of injury. I can’t under-train because I need to be prepared. I can’t get too ambivalent but I can speed the process up. The days are going to come and go regardless of how fast or slow I’m running or training.

This requires patience and discipline, two things I’m not good at doing. But that is part of the training as well.

Another component is getting back up after a fall. I haven’t fallen while running yet, mercifully, but I took a nice pitfall during the birthday weekend with sugar. As I mentioned in my post about the #whole30, I’ve struggled with sugar for many years. I eat mindlessly and easy access to sugar hasn’t helped the cause.

So, there was the birthday sundae on Saturday and the beignets before that and the other chocolate cake the night before. Nothing too bad. But the pop tart from Ted’s Bulletin yesterday, that was the start of the end. By the end of last night, I pounded down a bunch of ice cream after a day of real struggle with sugar. YIKES.

It’s a new day and while I’m feeling the agony of my decisions (and another sign that the paleo diet does work), it’s time to get back on the saddle, each more fruits and veggies, and do the work.

How to Not To (The official Jesus Year Manifesto)

Today is my birthday. It’s the start of year 33 (or is it year 34?) and it’s my Jesus Year.

For those who don’t know, the Jesus Year is the celebration of your 33rd birthday. It’s a bit crass and possibly sacrilegious but hey, what a great idea!

I had plans and notes to write a legitimate manifesto. Seriously, you would have been impressed by it. A diatribe on the collapse of adulthood rituals, the tragedies of ascenders who never come back down to Earth and references to indie bands and comic book heroes. And a recipe for honey apple pork to boot!

But that seemed to defeat the purpose and really, do you want to read my philosophical treatise on growing up in this day and age? (You do? Well, it’s way more interesting if I tell you over wine and vegan cookies.)

The best way to summarize my guiding philosophy is this illustration I read in the comments sections on Ta-Nehisi Coates’ blog at The Atlantic. (By the way, his postings on learning French in Paris are recommended reading.)

In your hand is a cup, on the table is a quart. The cup is what you have now, the quart is what you see you could have. But to take the quart, you have to put down the cup, and so, for a few moments, you have nothing at all.

I’ve been fortunate, lucky even. I’ve lived in great places, had wonderful experiences in work and have met some of the most amazing people on this planet. I’m truly blessed to have learned quite a bit so far.

What I’ve held is great and what seems in front of me is grander and yet elusive. It’s more than circumstances or more life events; it’s the demanding desire to move forward, purposely. I don’t want to get older or accumulate more stuff because I have to or out of default.

Rather, I want to move toward a place, a place I only hear whispers and rumours about so far. They say that space is hard to get to but once you find it, that’s where the good stuff is.

I don’t quite know where I’m going but I know I’ll get there. I want to get there with expectation and wonder, combined with experience and sobriety. It’ll take the rest of my life to get there but I have faith it’ll be worth the journey.

I can list tactics and strategies about this year: Run the Buenos Aires Marathon, finally learn the Charleston, help Jose and Perla improve their reading at Reading All-Stars. I want to cook a kick-ass fritatta and make paleo brownies. There’s this cute girl that I want to ask out but I keep losing my nerve. I want to wear more red clothing. I need a new couch.

Those are all markers and goals. Worthy goals.

But the main goal is to have no goals. My purpose going forward isn’t to learn but to unlearn. To be willing to be without so I can get to what I can be. In doing that, I can be better at serving and caring for others.

As T.S. Eliot wrote, “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”

That’s a journey worth taking. So, here’s my manifesto and I hope to stick to it.

See you on the Road to Good Air.

A Capital Birthday

I finished a 10k on a gorgeous D.C. afternoon. It’s almost scary how beautiful it is and its prognostication of a cold winter. But no matter.
This time last year, D.C. was in all its swampy glory. I had aimed to run from my place to the White House and back. It’s about 4 miles total and despite the incline coming back, it’s a very pleasant run.
But I wasn’t ready and it was too damn hot. I didn’t want to turn the next age. More accurately, I didn’t care. My goal was to make it through the year and move forward. Birthday be damned.

This year, however, it was time to run.

I’m sure the tourists are besides themselves. It’ll be warmer next week and I’m sure our heat wave will come on Labor Day. For now, it’s bliss.

I turn 33 tomorrow and start my Jesus Year. It’s gonna be something.

Happy running!

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Training #6: About the scenic route…

Tuesday: 9:43 km/avg 6:24/km with strides

Wednesday: Jump rope, 5 min, mobility stretches, clean (focus on proper technique and squats), 85 lbs, pull ups 4×6 (banded), banded good mornings, 4×12

Conditioning: 5 rounds, dumbbell clean and split jerk, 4x at 30 lbs, side shuffles. Time: 3:41

Friday: 7:06km, avg 6:23/km

Saturday: 6:46 km, avg 6:39/km

Sunday: 28.04/km, avg 6:39/km

I ran a full marathon this weekend. Really, it wasn’t my fault.

Sunday’s long run was meant to be 23km. I knew the route and was ready to go, even after two previous days of decent-size runs and somewhat humid weather.

Making my way into Rock Creek Park was easy. The weather was nice, a cool breeze ruffled the leaves on Beach Drive. Lots of runners, walkers and  bikers were out. It was a great time to be out.

Alas, I was supposed to turn left on Beach Drive to get to Oregon Drive, which would have dumped me on Western Ave (the border between the District and Maryland). Well, Apple Maps had other ideas. Instead of left, I went straight. Four kilometers, I got onto the Rock Creek Trail. Four miles to Connecticut Avenue. Okay, that won’t be too bad.

The trail wasn’t bad but I should know by now that Connecticut is always bad. ALWAYS. I eventually got to Connecticut Avenue. It should so happen to be Connecticut Avenue at 495. (If you’re like me and don’t understand D.C. directions, just know that 495 is the Beltway and a hella far distance from where I live in the District.)

After walking a mile, I figured there’s three options to get home: Walk, get a taxi and hope it costs less than $5 or, well, run. I have to do the mileage anyway, so off I went. I was tired as hell and my legs weren’t happy but I’m glad I did it. I experienced the mid-race slump at mile 13, which is pretty crucial to understand and have a game plan to overcome. I had plenty of energy gels and after a quick stop at the Chevy Chase Safeway, I was good on water. So, three hours and some change later, I got 18 miles under my belt.

It also gave me a confidence booster in knowing I really can finish the marathon race. I’m about half-way through my training and barring no injury God willing, I’ll be able to go the distance.

Another training score was Wednesday’s jump rope session. After mounting frustration on the blasting jump rope, I was about to give up and as a Hail Mary pass, I tried looking down at a spot on the gym floor and watching when the rope neared my feet so I knew when to jump.

In previous posts, I’ve lamented my complete lack of rhythm, jumping too soon, jumping more than I need to, stepping on the rope, etc. Everyone looks up when they’re jumping rope, happy, content and full of rhythm. I look forward and just feel my feet step on the damn rope. Looking down wouldn’t hurt at this point.

Then, it happened. I saw when to jump, when to land and when to jump again. It took my brain a few moments to process that I just completed 10 singles in a row with no problems. I tried it again. Another 10 singles. I focused on an unmovable point on the floor and allowed myself to move around it.

A small victory but a big one.

 

Training #5: Speed in the time of change

My apologies for the late post. This would have gone up yesterday but big news at work delayed this.

Tuesday: 7.57 km, average 6:29/km

Wednesday:

Mobility: Mountain climbers/dive bombs/spiderman stretch

Clean and jerk: 105 (new PR!)

Handstand pushups: 3×5

Tabata: barbell rows (85lbs)/burpees = 57 total.

Thursday: 8.06 km

Saturday: 10.17 km, splits from 6:40/km to 4:59/km

Sunday: 12.92 km, average 6:16/km

I’m getting faster and stronger. My negative splits exercise Saturday was one of the best ones I’ve had. Granted, our freakish great weather helps immensely but I can feel the training starting to took hold. The key is to maintain the pace, not over exert or over-train. Keep going, one step at a time.

As you can guess from the news above, lots and of major change in the horizon. With lots of talk about “security” and “stability,” I’m always leery of folks who stake everything on those types of things. Don’t get me wrong: Stability and security are important, in its proper context. What’s more important is resonance and meaning. Those elements come with more risk and greater need for vulnerability but the reward is worth it.

Anyway, onward!

Time and weights: How to properly fail and let go

I  PR’d on my clean lift yesterday (105 lbs, which might not seem like a lot but considering I was struggling with the 35 lbs bar when I started back in May, I’ll take it). A nice accomplishment for me and a good barometer of how far I’ve come in CrossFit and in overall fitness.

My biggest struggle on the clean is letting go of the bar. Specifically, letting go of the bar as I swing it up to catch it. In order to successfully clean, the elbows need to make a near 90-degree shelf as you catch and squat, in order to maintain balance and keep the thrust of your lift in your hips and legs. In order for that to happen, the hands have to let go of its grip on the bar and allow the bar to slide back into the fingers. That allows the elbows to come up faster and takes much of the weight off your forearms and onto your chest and core.

Everything else is coming together but that letting go is a real doozy. (I’ll stop here and say that yes, this is a wonderful metaphor for life. Duly noted and moving on.)

Jim, my instructor, after always yelling “HANDS!” every time I forget to let go of the bar, mentions that the trick isn’t the grip but the knowledge that you can bail if it doesn’t work out. Back during our Foundation class, we spent much of the lifting time learning how to bail if we can’t lift the weight. Jim took great pains to emphasize that learning how to let the bar drop isn’t a failure as a whole, just a failed lift. And it’s no longer a failed lift once you get back and try again.

The ability to fail correctly been the biggest source of confidence in the early going of CrossFit and running. When I started running, I had sharp pain on the top of my left foot, which would hamper my running schedule. I clung to that schedule because I felt if I missed one time or didn’t do the training run exactly right, I wouldn’t be able to finish the half-marathon. It was only when a fellow running friend said that if you need to stop and rest for a week or two, you need to do that rather than over-train and cause injury. Two week of rest later, much of the foot pain was gone.

Technique matters in CrossFit and that includes the right technique in bailing from the lift. You follow the direction of the bar because at that moment, the bar is in charge. Take a step forward or backward and let the bar drop. The key is decisiveness. Don’t hesitate, else you’re in the way. And the weights are impartial to interference.

These lessons ran true in a Wall Street Journal article on how long it takes to get over a traumatic event. The answer is it takes a lot longer than you think. On average, it takes about two years to deal with, process and move on from an event such as a divorce, a job loss and so on.

The difficulty of such an experience, as anyone who has gone through such a traumatic time will say, isn’t the initial shock and anger, as painful as that is. It is the long, messy journey of renegotiation. As the article states,

Some experts call this recovery period an “identity crisis process.” It is perfectly normal, they say, to feel depressed, anxious and distracted during this time—in other words, to be an emotional mess. (Getting over the death of a loved one is more complicated and typically will take even longer than two years, experts say.)

Some people may find they need less than two years to bounce back from a divorce. But experts caution that it probably doesn’t pay to ignore the process, hurry it along or deny it, say, by immediately moving across the country to get a fresh start or diving into a new relationship. That will probably only postpone the day of reckoning.

This article resonates with me as I remember my job loss back in fall 2009. Much of my initial struggles and the long journey that has come from it wasn’t just finding a new job or figuring out where to stay in the District or leave, but it was the sense of not knowing how to deal with this properly. I didn’t know how to fail.

I had never failed professionally and I was very proud of that. Now, I failed big-time and much of my emotional energy went toward trying to reclaim a sense of dignity that was no longer around (and really, wasn’t needed anymore). I didn’t know how long to deal with the process or how much would change because of the job loss. More so, I had no clue was the outcome was going to be. The fear that life as I understood it would be different but how different it would become was something I couldn’t have fathomed.

Time passed and the anger subsided but depression took hold. However, the time in the HOLE had a focus and a purpose: To shake loose that which is no longer needed and re-plant those things that matter.

Eventually, a new rhythm emerged and with that, a new Self arose from the ashes of what I thought was my calling here in D.C. and really, my set of anchors on which I claimed my identity.

I went through the HOLE and made my way in exile, which has led to me now and the end of that journey and the start of a new adventure: The one you, dear reader, are reading about now.

It’s been about 3.5 years since I was fired and I can now say that was one of the best things to have happened to me. Among other things, I learned to fail. Your job doesn’t define you, nor does the weights on the bar. When it doesn’t go well, step back, take a breath and try again.

Before you know it, you’ll have a new personal record.

Training #5: Running like a split jerk

Last Sunday: 19.14 km/7:16/km pace
Tuesday: 8:18 km (including strides)/7:13 km pace

Wednesday: Jumping jacks, 20x, lateral lunges overhead driver, junkyard dog drills, 5x
CLEAN: Halting clean deadlift, clean from the floor, got to 95 lbs

HSUP/pullups (banded)/ab rollout: 4x of 5

“Look out for the neighbors”: one-arm DB push clean (40lbs), then sprints to the end of the block. 

Friday: Jump rump, thoractic switch, wrist stretches
Handstand practice (Just about able to take my second foot off the wall!)

Jerk work: Push press/press into split jerk (got to 85 with push press and 95 with split jerk)

Fatal grip rows, 3x of 12

“Game Time” 5 min, AMRAP: 40 single jump ropes handstand shoulder taps, one-arm DB swings (Pretty much, I did 20 jump rope total, but did my shoulder taps from the 20″ box and 40 lbs on the DB swings)

Saturday: 7.03 km/7:10/km pace

Sunday: 21.28 km/6:59/km pace

I ran a half-marathon today!

It was the first time since the rock and roll in March that I cranked out 13.1. It felt good but it was difficult. It was made more difficult by the route I took: Up Connecticut Avenue to Chevy Chase, MD, following the D.C./Maryland border, down through Rock Creek Park to Military Road to Georgia Avenue, turning west near Howard University, then back home. 

For those keeping track at home, that is three major hills and four trails through the Park. And lots of sidewalk to boot. 

But it did feel great. The humidity was lower and the sun wasn’t scorching so it allowed for a faster average pace than other days, which I appreciated. My main goal was to get to 21km and want to continue running. I felt that way toward the end of the run (just about 2.5 hours), but I decided to take the hill up 13th Street to my hill and that pretty much took away my desire to keep going. 

It was a good remainder of how far I have to go…which brings me to the split jerk. I haven’t gone to a Friday session at CrossFit Foggy Bottom in some time, so I’ve missed the split jerk. Most of my lifting has been the clean and I’m starting to get the gist of the full position of lifting the bar from the floor up to the clean lift. So, adapting to the jerk and the push press was very difficult. Combine that with yet another frustrating session of jump rope and it was a Friday dosage of “embracing the suck.”

Considering I’ve only been doing CrossFit since May and I started by lifting the 35 lbs bar and now can do a lift of nearly 100 lbs, I’ll take the victories as they come and accept the challenge for more. 

Training #4: Going metric and electric

Wednesday: 9.68 km, average page 7:06/km
Thursday: the Meridian Park Five, 5.41 km/41:40 time
Saturday: 6.48 km, average pace 7:07/km
Sunday: 19.14 km, average pace 7:16/km

After pushing it last week, I wanted to focus on running this week. It was very difficult, made possible by the scorching humidity (hitting about 78 on the dew point scale), but it was good.

Part of my early training is starting to switch my brain from miles to kilometers. We Americans do love our miles and feet but the rest of the world decided to go metric a while back. The Maraton is 42km, which is a nice and easy number to think about instead of 26.2. For those who don’t remember high school math (like me)

one mile = 1.609344 kilometers.

Thus, the timing is off for my American brain. I ran into this on my Sunday long run. I kept thinking once I hit 10 that I had three more km to go until I hit my goal of nearly 12 miles. That happy thought caused me to slow down a bit until I realized that oh wait, this is the metric system and I was only half-way. And it was really hot. (Did I mention it was really hot last week?)

I’m averaging anywhere from 6:15-6:50 a km which is great but it still averages out to about 10:15 a mile. I’m trying to get faster but this past week was a challenge because after 9 am, the humidity was in full force. No matter, it’s winter in Argentina…

I kick it back in with running and Crossfit this week. Mercifully, the humidity will be much lower this week and the end of the week should be downright delightful.

I also incorporated what I call the Meridian Hill Park Five. Meridian Hill Park is near my house and one of the gems of D.C. The Park is split by upper and lower tiers and it’s both beautiful and a great place to workout during the day.

The MHP5 is real simple: Run the outer perimeter of the upper tier down the stairs to the outer perimeter of the lower tier and back up to the upper tier. Make that quasi-loop five times. Intermittently, do 25 bench push ups, 25 squats, 25 jumping jacks, 25 bench step ups and 10 burpees.

Easy, breezy.

My goal is to do that in 30 minutes. I got to 41 minutes because, well, it was hot and I needed to water. And I think I had a pebble in my shoe for a moment, so that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

 

30 Days of Good Food and how it helped change my life: The post script of #Whole30

First, I forgot to count down: Officially at 89 days to the Maratón!

Back in April, I completed the Whole 30 challenge. The Whole 30 Challenge is a part of the Whole 9 life, created by Dallas and Melissa Hartwig. The concept is simple: For 30 days, the goal is to eat good food and avoid types of food that cause damage to your body and cause unwanted and dangerous addictions. It’s about 30 days of intentionality, planning and purpose and ultimately, it’s you hitting the reset button and getting a fresh start.

To say that is helped change my life is not an understatement. It altered my relationship with food, what I eat, how I eat and the most important, why I eat. Close to three months in, habits that changed are still changing and I’m better for it.

But to get to that point, fellow air breathers, was a real challenge.

As a child, I wasn’t athletic but I was active. Childhood asthma stifled my ability to do many things, as did a complete lack of interest in playing high school football. (I did play junior varsity volleyball my freshman year. My position was left out.)

My family ate at fast food places often but my mother is a wonderful cook, so we ate well. I got to college and gained the freshman 15 like every other person but I was still active, so weight wasn’t a major issue in my mind.

I studied at Oxford during the fall of 2000 and while that was a life-changing experience, coming back to the States and to college was one of the worst times of my life. I struggled to re-insert back into the uniqueness of a Christian college sub-culture. My grades dropped because I wasn’t interested in my classes. I was madly in love with this woman and was convinced that we were ordained by God to be together and be married (sadly, that is not an exaggeration) but we broke up soon after I returned.

Thus, I gained about 45 pounds or so. I got to 225 lbs and stayed there, give or take 10 pounds, for about 11 years.

Coming out of the HOLE in fall 2012 and training for the half-marathon, I knew that I needed to eat better and make better choices about food. Mercifully, I was moving away from being the guy who started ‘Five Guys Fridays’ but that wasn’t getting to the root of my issues with food. If anything, I didn’t think I had any issues with food. I ate and that was that.

I had heard about the paleo lifestyle but didn’t know much about it. It seemed, well, weird and freakish and certainly not for me. I mean, the best dish I knew how to make was chicken and dressing. Here’s what’s in chicken and dressing:
chicken
sour cream
can of chicken and a can of mushroom soup
fake stuffing
mostly real Chinese noodles
very real butter on top.

I mean, seriously, a Caveman could make that.

Anyway, I found that the Paleo lifestyle wasn’t freakish (well, not that freakish) and actually, it’s pretty easy to implement. My friend M. at M = 1 (who is during her fourth #Whole30 this month and I’m so, so proud of her) told me about the grain manifesto, which led me to the #Whole30.

(As a side note, I won’t go through what the actual Whole30 challenge entails here. Click on the link at the top of this post to get all the details.)

Pretty much everything that is said will happen during the #whole30 did happen. It’s a not a big deal for the first two days, then your head starts to hurt. In particular, my head started to hurt because I eschewed coffee during my #whole30. That’s big. I’ve been a coffee drinker since I was 13 years old (again, no exaggeration) and giving that up for 30 days was the hardest by far.

After you get used to the hurting head, things become a bit foggy, almost dream-like. Then, you want to punch the universe in the face, followed by people that quickly come to mind. You get bored, then sick of eating leafy greens, then start to dream about coffee and milkshakes. Before you know it, you’re on the last week and it’s as if someone turned on a light and you begin to see things you haven’t fully recognized before. Your energy levels balance out, you sleep better and you FEEL better. And then, it’s 30 days.

In addition, these things were a big discovery for me:

I never thought more about food than during this time. Eating is an unconscious action. You think, “I want this.” So, you buy it and eat it. For the #whole30, this was the first time I had to think about every single thing I ate. What’s in this dish? What am I suppose to be looking for again? This has sugar. Does everything have sugar?

And thinking about food meant being mindful about food which meant giving a lot of attention to planning meals, figuring out where to shop, stopping to look at all the ingredients. It’s a lot of time and effort. For me, I was learning a new skill and really, that’s a bit embarrassing. I’m in my 30s and I don’t know how to shop for myself? Well, yeah.

It was one of the emotional experiences I’ve had. I’m a pretty emotional person by nature but I never equated emotions with food. Turns out that I’m an emotional eater and food has been a real comfort to me. It does make sense: After a long night in the newsroom, I’d stopped by 7-11 and get some candy bars. There’s candy everywhere (and I mean everywhere) in the newsroom. I’ve always had a strong stomach and could eat virtually anything and thus, I ate virtually everything. I ate when I was alone, I ate on my grand adventures, I ate in moments of sheer boredom.

Near the middle of the month, I started to recognize different emotions that came to the surface about many things that I had no clue were there. I felt anger at some things, disappointment and real hurt in others. Sadness over lost friendships, shame and regret and joy and delight that I just neglected to notice were present. Much of that was buried under my usage of food. And also me being a man, which leads to me to…

This is one of the most masculine things I’ve done. I posit that men have a different relationship with food than women. Men can (and often expected to) whatever they want and whatever fashion they prefer. Society frowns heavily on obese men and women but overweight men get a smile and possibly a joke or two, but that’s all. A man’s man is not one who likes his kale. It’s a man with BEER and BRATS. That’s a man who knows how to eat!

I always knew I was overweight and somewhat non-athletic and really took a bit of a perverse joy in that. I wasn’t “that guy.” Well, whoever “that guy” was, it wasn’t me and I made sure of that. I often was “the smart guy” or “the guy who does all these cool things” or “he’s such a nice guy but I’ll never date him” guy. But I sure as hell wasn’t “that guy.”

The truth was that I was scared. Terrified, even. What scared me wasn’t going on a diet or not eating dairy or exercising. It was taking responsibility. At this point, it didn’t matter how I gained the weight or what I ate. What mattered was that by going this road, I guaranteed the status quo, which was blissful failure.

However, if I succeeded in becoming physically fit, then that means active, not passive. Which means I do have control to make better decisions. Which means I’m not a victim or a martyr. Which means this is now and that was then and you have to let those 45 pounds go.

So, now they’re gone. And to celebrate…

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Training #3: Openness is the fullest position of strength

Tuesday: Tempo run/5mi

Wednesday: Partner wall ball/20 lbs, foam roller, lower back, lax balls teres major/minor roll,
CLEAN: 85 lbs, mid-thigh straight arm pull/power clean/squat clean
METCON: Dumbbell clean, push press, each side, renegade rows each side, athletic stance.
40 lbs, got to round six.

Friday: 30 jumping jacks, push up hand claps, shoulder stretch, spiderman stretch
Rock hollow body, handstands (can almost do a full handstand off the wall!)
Dips/Pendlay rows: 25/35lbs
CONDITIONING: 4 rounds for quality: L-sat holds, one-leg squats, bear crawl with 40 lbs.

Saturday: 4mi

Sunday: 11mi

As you can see, I went pretty heavy on the training. I’m bone tired but it’s a very good tired. I had to walk a little bit during the Sunday run because even at 8:30, it’s hot and very, very humid. Nevertheless, a good week of training.

Jim, the head of the CrossFit Foggy Bottom gym, always encourages us to open up. When we scrunch of shoulders or hunch over, it’s not a good position of strength. In fact, it’s a position of weakness. It’s a bit daunting to pull your shoulders back as you start the head to chest push ups or as on Friday, opening up while upside down. But that is the best position of strength.

Part of the road to health is opening up. That’s the goal of this blog and some testimonials of what has happened before will come soon. Yet, I recognize the dubious irony of opening up on a blog platform to whoever chooses to read this and also struggle with opening up to friends and family and those who I love and who love me. A lot of shoulder tightening happens in those moments and those conversations.

As expected, the road to good air is beginning to take shape amid old and new challenges and adversities. It’s the constant battle of committing myself daily to this task in each decision and hoping (praying even) that the results will be worth it, even if the results include not being able to run the race or travel south or whatever. Those inherently are goals and markers and a big part of the journey but they aren’t the journey itself. In fact, I won the race the day I said yes. Crossing the finish line is just my body and my circumstances agreeing.