No more schools, no more books...

A song I sang as I walked across the stage to crazy yells from my friends and family in August of 2001, under the assumption I would never return to formal education again. More the fool I for thinking so!

After a dozen years off I have thrown myself back in the educational pool! My thought was that an online course would be a nice reintroduction into the student lifestyle. No set times, no travel, no social distractions, easy right? BAH! This "little certification" class is no joke, and I will be hitting the books something fierce to get it done by the 6 month deadline. There will be a flurry of flash cards, a covey of charts and a veritable herd of notes. Four pages of notes in a 20 min lecture. Time for me to relearn how to study and nail down my time management skills.

"Have I bitten off more than I can chew?" When this little gem rolls through my mind I just recall that the only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time. It may not be pretty, or quick, but it will get done.

I drank the Kool-Aid

 
To say that I am hesitant to write about my latest “gym” experience on this particular site is a wild understatement, but it happened, so here it is. As part of my holiday gifts and festivities I ended up with a short term membership to a local CrossFit. Being an open minded kid, I thought, it can’t be as bad as the press it gets from the strength community, so I will give it a shot.

After a few classes I can say I get the appeal to the masses. The attitude is one of acceptance, and as positive as a muppet covered in rainbows. The class times work with my schedule most days. The format is simple enough to follow, and instructors/trainers are thick on the ground to help with any questions. This particular location offers oly lifting twice a week, and the instructor has some cred. (Caleb Ward) One of the other trainers has done voice work as both Batman and Superman, lemme say that can be a bit of a laugh during workouts. The folks that attend are friendly, welcoming and helpful, for the majority. We all know every gym has a fair share of jerks, but they are the exception not the rule.

Like all workouts, you get out of it what you put into it. Trust me when I say, I get a sweat going and am fully winded by the end of the sessions. The drawback to that is simply that the sessions are too short for me to feel like I have done a full workout.

With all that in mind, why won’t I be sticking around for all the kipping and WODs I can stand? The limitations of the facility and the workouts. I need more lifting time in a week than they offer to make my goals this season. Not to mention the cost, 250 a month at this box, and that is without one-on-one training or the oly classes. It is Resolutionist Season, and they place is packed, so learning names and faces is tough on the staff, I get it. However, after a few weeks I am DONE explaining to these folks that “No, as a matter of fact, that isn’t too heavy for me to start with.” There isn’t a slam ball in the facility that is too heavy for me to get through the whole WOD, so hush darling, mama is working here.

Would I do it again? You bet, it was fun! I always left with a smile on my face.

Would I let it be the only method I used to get to my particular goals? Not a chance.

Will I steal whole-sale some of the WODs and use them as warm-ups or replacement cardio? Regularly.

Would I recommend it to others? Depends on their end goals.

Post Holiday Ramp Up

The holidays with all the travel, and maddness are past! This year's festive season was a roller coaster that saw this section of Clan Boswell very unable to find our holiday mood. We were brushed by a sudden death, and a seemingly unending stream of family events. With all the highs and lows past, it is time to move forward.

That means tucking away all the bright baubles and shiney lights, and getting the nest in order, so that feathers long ruffled can be smoothed. Souther Girl Rule #1 - don't brave the world before you put on your face, and arm yourself with your best pearls.  Time to do just that!

The dawn of the new year sees me attending "school" again. A test run with on line education to see if  I can handle being a student again after a baker's dozen worth of years away from it. The plan is to get this first course complete by May, so that I can try to bring it bear over the summer months.  Hooray!

As ever, I am back on track with gym work and food. It is a never ending battle, but this year I intend to find the end of this war with my weight come Hell, highwater or hair-lipping the Pope. Now, if that comes in the form of finally getting to a reasonable weight, or turning this giggle into rock, I don't care, but change is coming. The fight isn't in the gym, it is in the kitchen. War will be waged on poor planning and easy choices.

So, that's whats new in the land of B. More to come...

Humble pie... tasty

Humble pie, two servings, one fork, please! While the deload was full of lessons, it seems my education has just begun. Thank goodness for patient coaches and loud music.

This week the strength training begins in earnest. In an effort to get it kicked off right, I took the opportunity to indulge my curiosity about the power factor. For the few folks that don't know what this little gizmo is, it is a tool to measure the speed at which you move the implement. The trick is to move it at a meter per second. This may not sound particularly fast, until you try it. Gave this a go on pulls and pushes and discovered numerous flaws, both with my perceptions and my lifting form. Getting those corrected was serving one of humble pie. Thanks Duncan! Not sure if it was generosity or his sadistic side that prompted Duncs to loan me this toy until I get the feel of proper speed, but it is set up in the garage awaiting tonight's lifts. Weee!

The whip cream on that particular serving of humble pie: attempting to learn to do pull-ups. Having never done a single dead-hang pull-up in my life, this was more than a touch hilarious. (yet another exercise that is not aided by my laughing at my failures) Still haven't managed it, hooray for being bottom heavy, but now have the tools I need to get there. Bonus: lots of my pulling has been done with my back of late, and it shows.

Second serving of tasty humility came last night when the Doctore prescribed some large sets to max for squats. To say this is below expectations would be a WILD (like lions on the savannah, wild) understatement. I am ganna call this fuel for the fire and just get down to it from here on out. The amount of clanging, banging and swearing did prompt a minor rearrangement of gear in the gym, so future sessions should be a bit more down to business and less tripping over my own feet. Time to meet the coach's goals and mine.

The carmel drizzle on this piece of mortification munchies: an hour of barre work and partner stretching at the dance studio, followed by thirty minutes of floor work (leaps, jumps, turns, spins, tucks ...) Evil dance instructor remains the Queen of all things Surprisingly and Subtly Painful. Today I am singing her praises, as I am not presently a single block of ache.

Much to be done before next season.

Learning from gorillas...

With all the kindness of a typical 400lb gorilla, several of my training partners informed me that I needed a break. It may have been implied that if I didn't take one they might just have to give me one, though the choice was mine on which arm. Thus, there was a deload. That particular word remains something of a mystery to me, since it seems to imply something different to everyone. My take? A pause in all training for a brief period.

Day to day I changed my mind on how I felt about it. Started my "Deload" on Saturday the 17th. It was odd trying to find out what to do with all my time, until my body decided for me. Sleep was the answer, lots of sleep and right now, if you please. Falling asleep at the merest mention of a soft surface was a new experience that lasted for the first 3-4 days. Between sleep and naps (one particularly memorable unplanned nap in the tub) I was clocking about 10-11 hours of sleep a day.  Clearly the gorillas had been right, and I needed some rest.

What else was I to do with all this spare time once the narcolepsy passed? Oh, let's see if I still like trashy food. Pizza? Nope. Enchiladas? Nope. Queso? Nope. Frou-frou coffee? Nope. Found myself longing for salad and fish, perhaps a grapefruit. Huh, odd, you mean to say that my brain has been lying to me all this time telling me how much I miss this trashy stuff, but now it tastes awful, or worse bland?  Sheesh, the gorillas were right again!

Follow that up with a Thanksgiving full of family, friends, feasting and folderol.  By the weekend I was chomping at the bit for something to do, so decided to try a few lifts with some of the kids from Full Throttle who were prepping for a strong man. Having not gone heavy in the gym since the summer off season, I was sure this would be more of a laughable hang out session than a true work session.  A sudden onset of giggles while under the yoke was the only laughable situation all day. As it turns out that I matched my PRs in a few lifts for reps, and still rode my bike home. You guessed it, gorillas 3, short-stack 0.

Lesson learned! No chest thumping necessary, my gorillas, deloads will become a regular part of the program. It seems that all-go-no-quit made for a very cranky and mostly useless me. This break offered me the clarity and rest to reset some goals and expectations, and start afresh. Now, to go get my calluses back!

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

 

This decorating diva demands!

This decorating diva demands more decore for Thanksgiving.

As one of the MAJOR holidays of the year I feel we skimp on jazzing it up for this special day. Certainly a great deal of fall stuff can ride out the season from September 1st through November 30th. Pumpkins, fall garlands, acorns, squirrels, and the like can grace my mantels, shelves and counters for the entire season. This lends the entire season a beautiful orange and brown palette to

We all know that Halloween gets a lot of love from the craft stores, as it should with all the gory glory it has to offer. As much as anyone else I enjoy my jack-o-lanterns, witches, skulls (some of the sugar variety), ghosts, goblins and ghouls, and do deck out every flat surface just shy of the stove top. However, the day after Halloween all those grisly goodies get tucked away in their bubble wrap and color themed tubs.

Playing dress up is second nature for this theatre kid, so why am I so very ready to tuck away the trimmings for this holiday? To answer that let us look at the way we celebrate these holidays. Halloween is a giddy free-for-all of quick sugary bites and glimpses of strangers in masks. Games played only in the dark, and full of anonymity. Glitz, glamor and gone in a flash, that is Halloween to me. I love this herald of the fall festivities and will never be too old for trick-or-treating.

Thanksgiving is full of rich warm scents and orange tinted memories of being only oven window tall. It is a day spent in my kitchen, draped in an apron, surrounded by my family and friends. Sharing foods we all enjoy, or in the case of my three-bean casserole that they endure so I can enjoy! Breakfast is always something sweet to get you moving, the coffee will be on all day long. Though we no longer do our turkey with a buttered towel cover that must be minded and moistened hourly, all praise to the oven bag, we do still spend hours rotating dishes in and out of the oven and stove top.

Dinner means pulling the tables together, even with the leaves in one table is never enough space, using patio furniture when the doorbell rings just one more time for late comers, a blessing said for another trip round the sun in good company, and the soft silence that descends when everyone's plates and hearts are full.

More than Halloween, more than Christmas, this humble holiday full of simple joys is my favorite of the season, for just that reason, it is humble. It is a time of sharing what you have with those you love in a place that is comfortable.

All I am asking for is a couple of cornicopias and some Thanksgiving themed table runners, I don't think I am shooting the moon here, dammit!!

On This St. Crispian's Day

 

 

Highland Games is a small community, international though it may be. Tight knit and foul mouthed, we share something that was best described by The Bard, and best preformed by Kenneth Branagh more than a score of years past as Henry V in his St. Cripsin's Day speech.

The entirety of the speech is littered with historical and battle field references, but it is the few below that speak most strongly of what I am attempting to define for the uninitiated.

"The fewer men, the greater share of honour."

Not everyone can we do what we do, and many hold themselves back for fear of failure, or worse still for fear of looking foolish. Donning a kilt to throw sticks and rocks will never carry a lot of glory to those that haven't done it, for those that have medaling at one of the Big Shows is an honour.


“He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say “These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.”

Should we ever get old and grey enough to throw no longer, some never do, we will have some stories to tell of the crazy goings on with the Iron Thistle, the stupid stone and that one time at Pleasanton. Names that will forever make you smile in fond memory when they fall off your tongue to tell some new kid about the occasion when...

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day.

Callused hands, iced backs, ART bills may fade, but the memory and limps remains. Experience will temper our humor, and allow us to smile when the “Next Big Deal” comes in full of swagger. Shared looks of understanding will pass round and slow grins of old age and treachery will abound.


We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,

Coming from a large family, and a small school, a sense of belonging is paramount to me. No community has been so warm and welcoming as the Gamers I have encountered. Distance and language have been no barrier, fellowship has been extended at every turn. Graciously accepting me as one of the family since day one, folks have opened their homes and ,most importantly, their vast wealth of information without reservation. Much talk has been had while much iron has been moved, and though we may not have solved all the world’s ills we built something. Hours on the field are never wasted, no matter how many blisters and calluses they bring. Clan has a whole new meaning for me these days.


This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

Damn right.