MY Best. Not THE Best.

Posted on August 29, 2023 by tosabarbell

After 2019, I took an unplanned hiatus from the Highland Games. Truth be told, I was tired. The year was a brutal competition schedule that aimed for World Championships in two different challenging strength sports; a fairly drastic weight cut; and lots of car hours back and forth to Minnesota at least every other weekend for months on end until my newly graduated “baby” flew off to serve in the Military. His BCT graduation was sandwiched between winning a gold medal at weightlifting Masters World Championships and quickly pivoting to Highland Games Masters World Championships in just over 8 weeks.

Add in an unfortunate event at the one Highland Games I did just days after I lifted in Montreal where the judge decided to talk lies about me when I wasn’t around which ended a friendship that was incredibly meaningful to me and I really didn’t want anything to do with Highland Games for a while. SIDEBAR: A Highland Games should NEVER have a judge for a group who is also a competitor. I understand, we’re a fringe sport but throwing in Illinois always had a slightly negative feel when the judge/competitor either didn’t like me personally (AS IF!) or just didn’t like the fact that I won so often. Despite the fact that Matt & I were on the field at this particular Games for an hour and a half after throwing so if anything truly happened that the judge wanted to question, we all could have sat down together and ironed it out, she later seized the opportunity to lie; the AD refused to give me a chance to retort; friendships gone, and my joy in participating in the Games took a hit.

When so many of the Games shut down and many have still struggled to come back, I just couldn’t get my head and heart around throwing. I could have thrown at our home Games in Milwaukee in 2022 but we got a chance to have our Granddaughter for the week and that takes all priority around here. No time to throw, we’ve got toddler stuff to do! Truth be told, the world kind of stops around here when a grandbaby shows up. I wouldn’t have it any other way!

I’ve written ad nauseam of the turn of events prior to weightlifting world championships last December and the time it’s taken to get my physical self back. The meniscus tear didn’t help. Throwing is hell on knees. Highland Games throwing, even worse. You don’t control the throwing trig or it’s condition and rotating on a knee you can barely walk on some days is terrifying. It took me until July and a quick trip to Minnesota to throw with Brian Hare and his Minn-Kota throwers to finally be brave enough to try it. Brian has also come back from a meniscus tear and I’ve appreciated his sharing what worked for him as he came back.

That one practice really changed what I thought about the throwing community. It reminded me that there are really good people out there who want to have fun (fun being subjective when we threw weights for nearly an hour); learn; and get to know each other. I grabbed the other two ladies, Leslie (the caber dragon. Seriously, she just steps up, picks a beast of a caber and effortlessly turns the thing, and then calmly comes back and sits down like she just put her laundry away) and Casey (who got off a plane from Iceland, jumped in the car, and came directly to the Ren Faire and threw the height events. You could make a case that Highland Games athletes really are a bit nuts but we’re a lovable nuts;) I will forever be grateful to these two for reminding me of the beauty the Games community really is.

After that practice and knowing my knee wasn’t going to spontaneously combust, I decided to get a little serious about practicing and looking for a few Games. Yes, I said I was going to take the year off of competition. I lied. Well, I most likely didn’t lie but I was fooling myself. I wanted to dip my toes back in the Highland Games and see how things went. To be completely honest, things went swimmingly.

I signed up for a Games in northern Minnesota, God’s country. Well, God’s and some of my adoptive ancestors. My Grandma’s family settled just miles away from the throwing field when they came over from Sweden. It made the 9 hour drive well worth it. Up north Minnesota will always be one of my favorite places on earth and now it will represent the place I fell back in love with the Highland Games.

Lawds, these ladies are an amazing mix of everything wonderfully female. Competitive; hilarious; lovely; supportive; determined; with a solid foundation of knowing who they are. I have so much admiration for these qualities. I have learned (the hard way) to NEVER trust someone who has a low opinion of themselves. They will ALWAYS throw you under the bus for brief moments of self satisfaction. But not these girls. We had an absolute blast and ya know what? I actually threw pretty good! I PR’d my sheaf at 24′ and came sooooo close to it sneaking over 25!

My stones were decent even though I hadn’t practiced those at all so literally the last time I tossed a stone was November, 2019. I’ll start to care more about stones. They’re a pretty decent event for me and if I can figure out how to move without jamming my left knee into the ground, I think I have some room to move the numbers on stones. COOL! Even hammers were decent. Nothing groundbreaking but they felt smooth with, again, room to move. WOB was a bit disappointing but I won’t pout. I’m out of my groove in WOB. I’m strong and still have a bit of explosiveness left in me so I’ll take practicing next year more seriously. I always have to remember that as I age, so do others. Heh.

Then there’s the weights. Weights, in general, are a Jules event. I remember; however; back in 2019 when I started practicing with just weeks to go until Tuscon that my weights were not where they usually were and I was going to leave myself vulnerable if I didn’t figure it out. I was able to walk away with wins in both heavy and light weights for distance at the World Championships but my numbers were not where they usually were. Why? I had no idea. I was tired after it all and hadn’t touched weights again until July of 2023. Unsurprising enough, a 4 year break didn’t help my weights. A torn meniscus on my drive leg REALLY didn’t help. A healthy fear that I’d blow out my knee completely and be writhing in pain, alone, on the practice field REALLY REALLY didn’t help. I made progress but there’s work to do. Lucky for me, I love to work. I made a little progress at yesterday’s Games and I’ll take it. I see what I was doing wrong from the video the HotHunkyHubs took and I’ll go back to the drawing board. That I made a few feet progress throwing 8 days after my first Games back is a win. I’ll McGregor strut my way to the practice field and be happy my 56 year old ass can still make progress.

Lastly, the caber toss. Now, I’ve never really been a spectacular caber turner. I can usually pick one all day long but turning them is another story. At my “up north” Games, OHHHH that caber was beastly. Thick, heavy, tall BUT it’s straight so you’re not fighting a curve on top which is nice. After my 1st pick, I had a heart to heart with myself that went something like this, “knock it off Jules. You’re acting like you’re not strong. Turn this damn thing.” And I almost did. But I still had one more shot. At that point, I channeled a dear friend who hasn’t met a caber he’s never turned and flipped that beast of a caber! I had a huge pull that felt absolutely amazing and I was absolutely stoked! Stoked enough that I texted a friend and told her about it.

The reply I got, “Did you win?” Nope, nope I didn’t but I had an amazing day. I PRd an event; I didn’t break my knee; I figured out how to keep myself going all day for the first time in four years (ahhh gals, 52 to 56 is kinda different. Hit me up when you get here and you can tell me about it); AND I was the only one who turned the BEAST! Her reply? “Bummer.” Honestly, I could have cried. What a fucking sucker punch to the heart. There was actually zero “bummer” to my day. I met amazing women; I returned to the field and did pretty damn good; and I walked (albeit with a limp) off the field. By the way, never treat women you perceive as strong as if they don’t have feelings. They do. They’re not robots, they are human beings. If you can’t be a decent friend that just keep your mouth shut.

As I drove the few hours back down to the cities, I realized that maybe people expect me to appear on the field and be THE best without understanding that the goal for the day was to be MY best. See, I know what it takes to be THE best and as I work my way back to getting a shot to be THE best, I’m going to accept small victories of being MY best. I’m comfortable with that but you can be damn sure I’ll be more selective in who I share my victories with. Heh.

I had another Games, yesterday, to be MY best. And I was. No, I wasn’t THE best but I sure cheered her on! There is, I believe, about a 15 year age difference between us and I’ve been around long enough to know that she and I are not the same. Never have been to be honest but sharing a day on the field with another group of amazing ladies; with the HHH; new friends; and a massively supportive crowd was absolutely THE best!

I’m so very grateful for the Minn-Kota throwers; their tireless efforts to keep Highland Games strong in the region; their unselfish giving of time and resources; their light and laughter; and some damn good scotch being passed around.

Always do your best. What you plant now, you will harvest later. Og Mandino

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Tutu’s Toys

Posted on March 28, 2023 by tosabarbell

Whenever our granddaughter comes to the house for a visit, there is a very specific sequence of events. Kulani will say hi to Glitch and then push past him as he tries to herd her to wherever he wants to herd her in that moment. She’s not playin’, she’s got toys to get to.

Her favorite is Mrs. Potato head.

Yes, she’s missing an ear. Don’t worry, it’s stored safely in her butt. Kulani could play with Mrs. Potato head for hours but we let it occupy her while unloading and chilling out after her car ride. From there she checks out her room to play with everything fun she hasn’t seen in however long (hopefully not too long or Tutu gets sad) and away we go!

Her last visit a couple of weekends ago made me think of the times I’d go to my grandparents and what I looked forward to playing with there. Remember, I’m a 70’s childhood girl so tv was out. Eventually we got the Muppets on Saturday and I’d put with Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom but reading and play time was it at Grandma’s.

There were some things that were special about being at Grandma’s. When I was very little, they lived in a house with pillars out front. I thought this was very glamorous. It was also near the train tracks so at night when a train went by and it’s shrill whistle was blown incessantly, I would wake up screaming and running into my parents room. That was less glamorous. They also had their garage in an ally which was super boujee. I’d wanted one ever since until I moved to Tosa and people who’s cars were in the ally’s kept getting broken into. Hard pass.

One of the coolest things at Grandma’s was their tandem bicycle. Grandpa would be in the front, Grandma behind him and us kids would take turns sitting in the basket in the back meant for groceries and shit. We would fly through the streets and I’m sure were quite a sight. One time we fell, I don’t remember why. I just remember that Grandpa was annoyed with me because I was crying but Grandma was actually the one bleeding, sitting along the curb. I have no idea how we got home but obviously we figured it out or else I’d still be living on that street corner in Windom, Minnesota.

Grandma had a washing machine with a hand crank and she talked me into the idea that this was a toy. I give her all the credit for obtaining child labor under the guise of play time. Well done Grandma, well done. There was a park along the river that remains one of the most fun parks of my life’s entirety. Sometimes we even got to go swimming at the pool. Years later, after Grandma had died and Grandpa moved into an assisted living complex, we went to a different park and Zac got stung by a bumblebee. My Grandpa was super pissed because he told Zac to stay still so it wouldn’t sting him but then it did anyway. Gramp’s felt betrayed and as if he advised little Zac incorrectly. That was too much for me to unpack in one park trip and I just said, “shit happens, Grandpa. Let’s go get ice cream.”

But when I was the little one, the gold mine at the Grandparents was in the basement. Grandpa had a train set; an old western toy town, and a playhouse. Like, a real one. Wooden with real wooden furniture and doors that worked and I most likely spent hours and hours in that basement. The train set was off limits unless Grandpa was with me but I think of the fun I’d had with that western town every time I watch Blazing Saddles and they set up a fake town near the end to be destroyed.

I think back to the statement that it takes 3 generations to lose oral family history, if you’re lucky. Matt’s family is luckier than mine. His Grandma is still going strong at 95 and her great-grandchildren will take memories of her into adulthood. They’ll have stories of their Busia, aren’t they the lucky ones? My cousin’s Paul & Denise & I have Grandpa stories. If you get us together, bring wine cuz we can tell these stories all night long. Maybe our kids would be lucky enough to hear them, I’d like that. Because when we go, so goes the stories.

Maybe that’s the treasure of being a grandparent. We’re impressing on a generation we likely will not see grow to old age all of our memories and what the world was like, “back in the day.” The toys give them visual jolts of memory.

Another favorite of Kulani’s are these Care Bears that I got out of a vending machine in New Jersey on a barbell weekend with the Texas crew. Last time she was here she put them all, along with the gnome, into my boot which was a nice surprise as I shoved my foot into it. She’s kind of a stinker.

But her favorite toy at Tutu’s?

JaJa. She still likes to be flipped upside down, she’s lucky he’s strong. My grandpa never flipped me around but he wasn’t the strongest JaJa like Ku get’s. Lucky girl.

Each visit with Kulani is a treasure for us. We try to make it a treasure for her even though there are still rules at Tutu’s. Not many, but a few. Each memory made is almost like a sigh of relief that if something happened to us today, she may have a memory jolt each time she saw a Mrs. Potato head or a Care Bear and think of Tutu’s toys.

Nobody can do for little children what grandparents can do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children.

Alex Haley

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Friday Jams: My Bell Bottoms are not Your Vintage!

Posted on February 10, 2023 by tosabarbell

A few weeks ago a REEL crossed my path where a seemingly nice young lady was super exited because a realtor friend called her up and said that an apartment he will show needs to be cleaned out and the woman who lived there had an entire wardrobe of VINTAGE clothes from the, wait for it…1970’s. Yes, I typed 1970’s because if someone references the ’70s as vintage, I assume they mean clothes from the 1870’s.

1970’s. Vintage? I don’t think so.

If you think for one hot minute that I’ll post about the 70’s and not include a gratuitous picture of Randy White, you’ve never net me.

Anyways. This young lady’s excitement of finding an entire closet full of bell bottoms and knitted vests was eventful enough that I did a little math. It seems the 70’s were 50 years ago. When I was growing up in the 70’s, fifty years prior to that were the roaring ’20s and dressing up as a flapper for Halloween was so common to me I didn’t even consider it Vintage.

50 years. When the actual fuck did that happen? I mean, I understand that I’ll be 56 this year and when I was 40 I looked at people who were 56 and thought, ‘geez, I hope I’ll still be able to lift when I’m 56.’ Joke’s on me because right now my lifting is spotty but I’m doing what I can and it turns out that I think I’m fabulous at almost 56 and I STILL get mistaken for being younger than my 48 year old hot hunky hubs.

But today isn’t how hot 70’s linebackers were or how fabulous I am, it’s about the Jams. Look, I understand how each generation believes their music was “the greatest” but when it comes to the 70’s, well, it was truly the greatest. Sorry not sorry. You had the folk music coming out of the 60’s; new rock; funk; smooth rock; disco; some of the greatest country music in the history of country; and towards the end of the decade punk was becoming more mainstream and us suburban kids thought we were pretty badass because we could identify music from The Clash or Siouxsie and the Banshees.

When trying to come up with one Friday Jam to represent the 70’s, it’s impossible. I loved Donna Fargo; Johnny Denver; Queen; Blondie; Tanya Tucker; The Jackson’s; Cher; Deep Purple; Led Zeppelin; Olivia Newton John; Earth, Wind & Fire; The Pointer Sisters. I haven’t even gotten into the Blues or Soul! Point is, 70’s music is unbeatable for a generation of musical growth (and death. RIP Disco.)

So I’ll go with the queen, Donna Summer. When looking for a musician to identify with in the 70’s, my go to was Donna Summer. Sure, Blondie was sassy and hot and the whole Playboy bunny thing was an added layer of mystique. But I wasn’t built like Blondie and honestly, being introduced to sex so young and in such an abusive mode, I didn’t want to identify with a rock star who was also so overtly sexual. I guess some parts of me still clung to being a kid. Same reason I couldn’t identify with Olivia Newton-John, she was too pure. I was too dirty.

But Donna Summer was gritty. She didn’t ask for special favors, just a chance to be heard. She was curvy and imperfect but still sexy and soft spoken. I’ve never been soft spoken, it’s a quality I admire. She walked out on a stage and commanded, purely through her talents, that she be recognized and respected. Also, she was a little on the bad side. She made it okay to have a bad side, I needed that. She was one of the most beautiful women who has walked the planet in my lifetime and I hope sincerely that she had a good life. The joy and escape her music provided me was invaluable at times. Even trying to decide which of her songs to play was tought but ultimately, I went with the song that I listened to no less than 58,000 times. Donna Summer isn’t vintage, she’s immortal.

God had to create Disco music so I could be born and be successful.

Donna Summer

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Some Days the Weight Wins

Posted on February 7, 2023 by tosabarbell

It occurred to me the other day that I hadn’t written my story of World Masters Weightlifting Championships (otherwise known as, Worlds;) back in December. What now seems like a lifetime ago. I hadn’t even thought about it and my reaction to what transpired until the other night as a bunch from the WanAt crew were out for Pizza after celebrating our Buscia’s 95th birthday when my well intentioned brother-in-law asked how that “one meet in Florida” went. Whoops, too soon Steven, too soon.

I’m going to back up a bit first. 2022 had specific goals in specific timing. Get as strong and proficient at the lifts as humanly possible at 55. I was in a new age group and I had the ability to do some damage to standing records, both National and World. Yeehaw, let’s go! Nationals at the end of April found me without my coaches due to a family wedding and Michael connected me with the most excellent stand in, Debbie Millet in Salt Lake City. She was amazing. We did good. It wasn’t everything I wanted to do but it was a good start for the year. I had another National Championship under my belt and set a couple of National records. Goal one checked off for 2022.

I passed on the opportunity to go to Puerto Rico for Pan Ams. Truth be told, I just don’t wanna be that hot when I lift. I don’t throw in the snow or rain either so I’m an equal opportunistic snowflake.

Because of the late timing of Worlds as the international weightlifting world recovers completely from lockdowns (a disgusting word in a free world), the Howard Cohen American Championships were held in August (usually November.) Now I DID have my coaches and even received my medal from the legend himself:) I increased my National records and was especially pleased that my Snatch numbers were 2 kilos shy of the world record and the weight literally FLEW into position in Baton Rouge. Goal 2 achieved.

After recovering from the meet, it was time to really face that my post menopausal weight was not going anywhere and I had to really take inventory of how I wanted to go into the last half of my 50s. Not supersized as I’ve been, was the answer but 3 months before worlds when I have my last set of goals to achieve isn’t the time to address it. Be as strong as possible. Be bold in my attempts in the gym. Gain confidence and go forth to kick ass. I had until December 3rd to prepare but afterwards, I had decided to take the bulk of 2023 off to address the body weight.

Nope, I can’t do both. If I’m competing, I want to be strongest as I can be. Not just strong, strongest. That means that my training has to push me hard and I need food to recover from that hard training. It also means I need to handle the constant inflammation that comes and ensure that it isn’t taking over my recovery. Ya know, kinda important shit old people need to keep an eye out for. So Worlds 2022 was it for the upcoming year and I needed to go out with a bang. Showcase my hard work. Plan A.

If you know me, you already know how that went. A head on car wreck that I’m still paying for physically, 3 days prior to lifting and my world completely fell apart. What my mind could do, my body couldn’t. That I even made a total is something of a miracle. The other day while visiting Savannah, the PollyPocket and I were tooling around talking about Worlds and she said something along the lines of me stating in Orlando that I wasn’t going to be able to lift. To be clear, not competing wasn’t on the table. Didn’t occur to me. But yes, I DID tell her that I wasn’t able to lift. I had tried, unsuccessfully, to deadlift 35kilos 2 days out and I failed due to kneck and knee pain. I had two crying bouts in the training hall each time I tried to lift with little success. I was fucked.

Matt’s pregame hype, normally the talk that gets my grrr face on, led to more tears. Not because I wasn’t going to try, but because some days your body just can’t hold up to the stress you’re about to inflict on it and I knew this was going to be one of those days. Every lift on the platform was like a skyscraper driving me into the ground as I tried to hold the weight up. I had a potential gold medal jerk in my hands and though my mind said “yes”, my spine said, “nope” and I failed to achieve that 3rd and most important goal. I was emotionally destroyed. I was completely unprepared for failure and that it came out of someone else’s inability to, oh I dunno, NOT FUCKING PLOW INTO ANOTHER CAR with me in it hasn’t helped at all. That I was, still am, physically damaged didn’t help. I’m a horrible patient when I’m not 100% and the effort it’s taken not to be a bitter whiny hag about it all has been a lot.

As disappointing as that whole thing was, it has not been my only challenge this last year. In fact, I have had possibly the worst year of my life when adding up personal challenges. I have hits coming from all sides and I’m so very proud that I wake up each day with gratefulness for this amazing life I live with an amazing husband and amazing friends and amazing security that I’ll get to eat today without much effort and most likely vacuum up dog hair from our fuzzball, Glitch.

But I have sadness and in some moments, just like the pang to the heart when faced with a quick reminder that my weightlifting meet didn’t go as planned, the weight of that sadness hits hard enough that I need to stop and acknowledge it. I don’t dwell, but I feel until the feelings are done. Maybe it takes a quick cry, dunno, I don’t rush it. Some moments or even days, the weights of the world win.

Just like physical inabilities in the moment (I have officially joined the ranks of doctors appointments, and even today am in considerable pain and inflamed from a snatch session yesterday that built to a measly 45kilos) there are times I have emotional/mental inabilities to handle a session of difficulties spiraling around me. The ability to compartmentalize and focus on moving forward is a beautiful thing, highly recommended.

In many ways, the last 3 years has not been easy for so many. The weights of the world are crushing more and more and the inability to deal with these struggles is apparent every day. Yours may be also, just don’t throw your shit onto someone else thinking it’s going to help you feel better. It won’t. You’re going to have to buck up and feel your feelings while being grateful that you live in the most amazing Country on the planet (except for those few readers on here who plug in from China, sorry guys, you’re fucked.) Keep fighting for yourself and remember when the weights get too heavy, you’re going to be okay. When that jerk wouldn’t stay overhead for a gold medal, I put the weights down instead of trying to keep it overhead for a couple of months. Do that. Even when the weights win, acknowledge it and then get back in the fight.

Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, “I will try again tomorrow.”

Mary Ann Racmacher

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