Monday Bacon: Shape of Strong

A FB post from a high school classmate of mine caught my eye the other day. A very successful, smart, funny (as I remember her, quick satirical sense of humor) now 46 year old woman opened up about having issues being super critical of her body. Her hopes of not passing this habit down to her daughter was at the forefront and all I could think of was that it felt like such a heavy load. It broke my heart.

In one swift swing of the low self esteem, she managed to erase every single positive aspect of her life. What. The. F*k! A few of her friends also commented about the magazines that tell us we should be a size zero, blah blah  blah. I had 2 or 3 different replies written out and rewritten until I finally said, “What shape is strong?”

First off, stop reading those stupid magazines. It’s like getting a group of women together and having an hour long discussion on the best kind of diaper to use. Pointless…an hour of your life you’ll never get back. That’s Glamour magazine (although they usually have a free sample tucked somewhere in there…free samples are fun), pointless. We’re in our 40’s now, we should expect substance when  talking, reading, watching, or doing. Truth.

But it got me thinking, really, what shape is strong? The above picture is from years ago at a Burgener Olympic lifting cert with members of his family and crew. Lots of shapes and sizes, lots of strong. It never occurred to me to look at Natalie or Aimee and say, “gee, I want to be the same shape as them.” I looked at them and said, I want to be STRONG like them (I’m still not.) Women have crossed my paths over the years where I have had the same thought.

To name just a few; Dawn Currin, Shawna Mendelson, Erin Walterman, Katie Steingraeber, Angie Bryant, Tammy Kentner, Veronique Faust, Lynn Brady, Rosanna Estes, AoD, Anita Sciscoe, Carmen Buchmann, Donna Manning, Leigh Niven, Jenny Oltmann, Brittney Boswell, Sara Hilgers, KCon, Heidi Ziegele, and Saysha…to name a few off the top of my head, heh. The shape of STRONG? Here…

All shapes and sizes, all strong by their own right. Body issues? My body issue right now is trying to figure out why my body isn’t throwing a 60′ LWD. Damn body.

And as for my daughter and what I’m “passing” down to her? I dunno, I guess I’ll ask. Oh wait, my daughter is strong, beautiful, independent, useful, active, athletic, smart, a good friend to others, and fifty other amazing things I’m not thinking of at the moment. Did I teach her all that? Probably not, but I’ve tried to show her strong and let her come up with her own version of it. That’s the best we can do.

Body issues? Stop it. It’s pointless, really. Just decide you’re done with such nonsense. You’re given the body you have, take care of it. And if you’re not already, get to YOUR version of STRONG!

To lose confidence in one’s body is to lose confidence in oneself.

Simone de Beauvoir

Training Log

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DNF

When I was 9, I was in AAU swimming. It was the dead of winter and we had a meet in SW Minnesota about 30 miles away from where my grandparent’s lived. The plan was that I swim Saturday, run over to G’ma’s to sleep and have Grandpa’s famous Oatmeal breakfast (Grandpa grew up in the depression, Oatmeal saves lives and sets the tone for a good day. Fact.) Run back to the meet on Sunday and then head home. No worries.

Except SW Minnesota in the dead of winter is never a ‘no worry’ environment. A storm started brewing when we were still in the water on Saturday and that’s never a good sign. By the time we chowed down some dinner at the hotel where other swimmers and families were staying, it was looking pretty ugly. Many folks tried to talk my mom into staying the night but she was used to Up North snow storms which could beat the snowfall of the south, but the wind swept plains were out of her league. We promised to be back the next day since I had a few bigger events and relays to swim that had an impact on upcoming Regional competitions.

We weren’t even out of town and were struggling. I remember begging her to turn around and stay the night or at least let me stay so I wouldn’t miss the next day. Nope, we’ll be fine. When we finally hit Windom and G’ma’s house, my mom was  a total wreck. The roads were the worst she’d ever driven in and went in and out of the ditch multiple times. The verdict? No return tomorrow.

We had Grandpa’s oatmeal breakfast the next morning, it didn’t help the awful pit in my stomach of not being at the meet. We went to church a little later and I silently cried throughout the whole service. See, here’s how I’m wired. When I’m geared up to compete, I’m ready to compete. I don’t DNF. It’s not in my DNA. I dunno why, I was born to compete. I’m happier on the field, or the pool, or the platform or wherever I’m able to. I’ve competed in Weightlifting meets with a tweaked back where I had to humble myself and go much lighter than I was able to had I been healthy, but damn it, I said I’d compete and so I will.

Until now. It was very important to me to compete one more time before the big event out in Enumclaw in a couple of weeks. I found an event put on by Merl Lawless and the Ancient Athletics crew out of Springfield who ALWAYS put on an excellent show. It was a bit of a drive, but well worth it and a perfect opportunity to get a little more coaching before the Claw. But life has gotten in the way and for the first time since I was 9 years old, I’ve pulled out of a competition.

It hurts my heart, I realize that’s a bit dramatic but that’s the only way to describe it. There are bigger issues in the world and even bigger issues at home but it hurts my heart. It’s not how I’m wired. I realize many can shrug off missing competitions, I realize many have a far more laid back attitude about competing in general. That’s ok, it’s just not me.

I’ll take the extra rest day; do some lifting and throwing this weekend as I’m able; try to get right in the head; and look forward to some throwing next week with World Class games competitor Sara Hilgers. But unless I’m dead or severely broken, this will be the last time I DNF.

Excitement is impossible where there is no contest.

Henry Cabot Lodge

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Friday Jams

Last night, we headed down to the most recent of Milwaukee’s summer festival’s, Bastille Days. We met up with some friends, one who’s been training at tosabarbell, as they prepared for the Storming the Bastille 5k run. Heh.

While they ran (goofy people), we grabbed the non-runner in the group and went looking for French food…and wine. I’d been good all week and deserved wine.

Our new friend, Katie, was raving about the band that was playing the main stage. I’m Not a Pilot delivered. How can you go wrong when the lead cellist (no lead guitarist, the strings come in the form of a cello) is also lead chair for the Symphony Orchestra in town.

It was a beautiful evening with friends and good music. A perfect Milwaukee summer’s night. And a good reminder to myself to venture out of our little ‘tosa more often.

Enjoy the weekend.

Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.

Berthold Auerbach

Training Log

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Treats

When I wrote about looking forward to a weekend with the pilots, I severely underestimated the experience. I was just a tad concerned that the build up and expectations I’d set would fall just a hair short. Boy, was I wrong.

These people? They know how to throw a party.

Weddingplane in flowers

After a beautiful and slightly funny wedding (thanks to their Priest, he was a stitch) a few of us relaxed and had snacks (and Sangria:) while the wedding party did their wedding party thing. Spending time with KCon and Rich in a quieter setting and having a chance to talk was a treat. Honestly, TREAT is a word I used often that evening. See, I don’t take fun for granted. I love having fun but I’ve had enough bumps in the road to understand that fun is a treat. Hugs are a treat. Dancing with the bride was a treat (I stepped on her feet, probably not much of a treat for her.)

The airplanes they had as one of the favors was a treat, even more so when the groom’s Ma (who somehow adopted Bigg for the night) told us to put together as many as possible and fly them all night long. Giving this crew open invitation for flying cardboard airplanes at each other all night was a risk. We sent about eight of them at the bride and groom when they arrived to the reception. Had to.

We were placed at what could only be the funnest table of the party (I know the bride and groom probably had a fun table too, I just don’t see how theirs could compare to ours.) Pilots; pilots sister’s; wives; and us situated right between the open bar and the actual treat table. Score.

Weddingsugar

Having a chance to spend time with Dobbs; KCon; Rich: Jeff; the Howie mask; and Jack was the biggest treat of all. Really. As serious as they are about their careers, they take celebrating just as seriously and we had an absolute blast. It was really quite something. Thinking about it makes me overwhelmed with thankfulness that we were able to be there.

Weddingwfaccrew1

We had a slight misunderstanding during the night when one of my FB pictures caused a ruckus among friends back home…

Photo: Wedding selfies

See, I labeled this ‘wedding selfies.’ I guess that got some folks talking and an informant, errr, informed me that people thought Bigg and I had tied the not. Uhhhhhh, no. Stop it people. Not happening. Anywhoo, since I had spent the last seven hours drinking Sangria and wine, I MAY have decided to have fun and fan the flames on that little rumor. It quickly got out of hand and I had to focus my double vision to put a stop to it. MyBad.

All in all, it was one for the books. By far the most fun I’ve ever had at a wedding and a complete treat from morning ’till…well the next morning when we all had breakfast together. Which, by the way, was another unexpected treat. It’s the first time I’ve actually wanted to write a Thank You to the bride and groom for bringing us together and giving us all such a wonderful day.

Jess and Jeff…thank you. Aloha.

It’s the one night where everyone I care about is in one room and I CAN’T talk to them!

Jeff, lamenting about the fact that the evening went so fast.

Training Log

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