I’ve said enough on how I feel about friends and acquaintances on how their social media behavior since Trump’s election as President is viewed. People I love and admire have forwarded innuendo as fact; have taken one person’s words and completely rewired them to their own “fitting” protest; have spent their energy spewing hate against people and beliefs that have never done the same to them. All in the name of America. I guess I’ve said enough. I’ll never understand it, like I said the other day, welcome to my last 8 years. What I failed to say was this, while you are filled with fear as to what direction your country is going in, you may be right. I have seen the direction of this country go to where we are today. Where high school girls are beaten for saying how they voted and just one girl came to help. Where we have given all control over to the media who have been proven to be liars over and over. Where the longstanding corruption; lies; murder; rape, and harrasment of rape victims of one couple isn’t bad enough to stop pretending we’re offended by one candidate’s ‘hot mike’ comment 11 years ago. He apologized and moved on. Make sure you don’t do the same.
And now I need to do the same, move on. My disappointment will ebb. Always does.
On the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month in 1918 a cessation of hostilities was declared.
Let’s do the same. Because this moment is bigger than you and your social media smears. Come on, we have about 30 minutes. Gather around the flag pole in your mind and grasp hands with all those who you vehemently have disagreed with this week and look up. Come together in thanks to each and every person whose time and lives were given so that we can be so divided in the first place.
30 minutes.
American veterans have served their country with the belief that democracy and freedom are ideals to be upheld around the world.
8 years ago, Obama was elected President. I didn’t vote for him. While Mccain was a weak candidate, I didn’t believe in the promises of Obama.
4 years ago, Obama was re-elected. Now, I DID believe that Romney would have made a good president and that Paul Ryan was a strong running mate. So I was disappointed when they lost.
But I was okay. I suffered in silence. Year after year, I watched the divisiveness of our country grow larger than the Grand Canyon and the miracle of the ACA has already started to crumble. But I held my tongue. I was ridiculed at a party this fall when the Trump bashing started and the only thing I said was, “I’ll be voting for Trump and I think we can find something far more interesting to talk about.” Seemed reasonable to me.
I’m sorry so many of my friends are disappointed in the election results. Believe me, I’ve felt your pain. I’ve felt your fear that this country is not going in the right direction. I didn’t post meme’s or vicious vitriol. I just put my head up and did my best to make my life, and those around me, okay.
I hope you can too. If not, well…you know. Heh.
The real man smiles in trouble, gathers strength from distress, and grows brave by reflection.
How to brighten a post about bombing out: Add Pisarenko…
I’m back home, hunkered down in my favorite chair with the puppies snuggled close watching the Stihl Timbersports series on ESPN2 (it’s kickass, I kinda want to do it.) I get to look back on the weekend as a whole, make notes for necessary adjustments and then move the fuck on.
My flights were uneventful (the best kind really); however; on my DTW to BUF leg I noticed the man across the aisle next to me looked athletic. Actually, I’m pretty good at keeping my head down on flights so from mid-quad to foot, he looked athletic. I wondered if he’s going to the meet but minded my own business. When we got the announcement we were getting ready for our final descent, I looked over and he was wearing a Catalyst Athletics sweatshirt. Cool. I tapped him on the arm and he took his headphones off and asked him about it. Turned out I was sitting next to Mike Gray.
Ahhhhhh, AWESOME! I’ve read some of Mike’s articles and over the past year, have come to have so much respect for the crew at Catalyst Athletics and their contribution to weightlifting. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I’m a huge fan of Greg Everett’s and when I saw his name on the start list for the meet this past weekend, I was hoping for the chance to go shake his hand. But first I got to tell Mike Gray that I was very thankful for the content of the website and in just one short year I’ve been able to make strides in turning my form around to improve my chances at doing well in the sport. I also told him that after everything I’ve learned this year, the most important lesson is that I’m starting to understand the amount of what I don’t know. Heh.
We chatted for about 10 minutes and then I tried to leave him alone. I’d already broken so many of my own plane rules about talking to people and I didn’t want to intrude further. The fact that I made someone take their headphones off and engaged in conversation on an airplane speaks to how much I look up to these people.
My cousin, Stacy, came with me for fun and moral support since the Bigg guy was on the road for work and then had to head to Chicago Saturday morning for a week-long trade show dealio. I need to give a shout out to Stacy. She knows nothing about weightlifting; we hadn’t traveled together before (I know this sounds weird, but traveling together can be tricky. Matt and I travel enough that we get into a groove and asking someone to “fit” into that is actually asking a lot); and this was actually the first time she’d traveled for a non-work trip so the kids and hubs back home missed her. SO, from the bottom of my heart Stacy, thank you.
We rolled into town and checked into the hotel but needed food before the technical meeting or two major cases of HANKRY (Hunger + Cranky) were going to happen. We had a lackluster meal at Famous Daves and then ran over to the venue to make sure we were good to go for the weekend. No schedule changes meant awesome and we chilled the rest of the night.
Friday was a nice and easy day with a bit of a sleep in and then we found a fun lunch spot before we checked in for some volunteering during the first session (I vow to ALWAYS watch the eldest group of women lift at every single one of these events. They are amazing and so inspiring that I just never want to miss it if possible.) This also gives me a chance to connect with some of the folks who have been doing this for years and years and I like that. I’m a new kid on the block and I’m already so thankful for the opportunity to meet friends after a few of these meets.
I’ve learned that when on the road, a corporate restaurant dinner before a meet is the best way to go. I know what to expect. I know I’ll probably digest everything well, I can hit my macros and enjoy a glass of wine. We found a steakhouse near the hotel and had a nice steak dinner. I slept like crap, weird for me. But I’ve competed on lack of sleep before, Saturday wasn’t going to be any different.
But I was off. Early on Saturday morning, I ran over to the Bux, got a coffee and called the hubs. When he asked how I was, I replied honestly, I’m off my game. I didn’t feel “on it.” I did everything I could but I wasn’t on solid footing. Annoying.
During weigh in (OH Heyyyyyy, I weighed in a kilo less than Germany. Those are two pounds I don’t need to lose now. Holla!!!) I adjusted my already low openers even lower. OH, hold on. While “watching” (I don’t watch other lifters during the meets, the last thing I need to do is pick up some stupid habit from watching someone else) the session before me, a lifter bombed out of her Snatch with a 63kg opener. That was my opener. Ummmmm, shit. I honestly thought of lowering mine to 62 to ward off that 63kg evil but then thought I was being rediculous. Memo to me: be rediculous.
After weigh in, we ran to a local grocery and picked up a few appropriate snacks and chilled. I was feeling a bit better, still off, but better.
My warm ups felt great. Snappy. Strong. I felt good. Some lingering ouchies were feeling okay if I set up correctly and while I definitely do not feel as strong as I wish I did, I’m good to go. My last warm up at 60kg was solid. Fast and fine. No worries. And then I missed my opener. Oh well, I let the bar get way out in front of me and needed to remember to pull the bar up instead of letting my hips throw in just out. No worries. I’ll grab it next time.
Next time:
No lift. Hmmmmmmmm, shit. 3rd attempt openers are no different than WOB 3rd attempt openers. There’s a lot of “awwwwwwww shit” nerves happening and it’s not a pleasant place to be in. Dammit.
Stacy was taking videos for me and when we started walking out for the 3rd attempt I looked at her, smiled, and said ‘well we’ve got to get this one.’ So I did…
…or so I thought. It felt hard. And strong. And exactly like it should. And I got called for elbow bends. I was shocked. Honestly, as weird as that word was, I don’t see it. I didn’t feel it, I don’t see it. While the bar may move a bit laterally, it does not move down and THEN back up as an elbow unlock would show (levers dudes. An elbow hinges or unhinges causing the lever to shorten and then lengthen again. A bar weighing nearly 140# is going to go down and then back up. Obviously.) This didn’t happen. I disagree with the call. It doesn’t matter, but I disagree.
Afterwards, I went outside and called Matt. I was upset. Not because I failed, but because I don’t think I did. I was stopped by no less than 5 people who expressed disbelief in the call. While I was talking to Matt outside, another man came to shake my hand and tell me he thought I was robbed. Even my Marshall’s in the back room had no idea why I was called.
Mother. Fuck.
I shed a few tears while talking to Matt and just stayed outside to get some peace. One of the judges came to talk to me. I respect that. She told me why I was called and I told her that while it was incredibly kind of her to seek me out and I will ALWAYS respect the judges, I disagree with the call. I hadn’t even seen the video yet. But I felt that lift and I knew that I didn’t unlock. She was worried that I wouldn’t be able to hit another meet to qualify for the World Games in April in New Zealand and I told her, A) dude, my total is 149kg, far above the 85kg needed for those games and B) I’m not planning on going to New Zealand anyway. I’m good. But I still disagree (heh, I gotta be me.)
I still got the chance to Clean and Jerk and while warming up, I lowered my opener. Twice. Didn’t care. I wanted to salvage the trip. Opening under 80kg hurt my pride a bit but my last warm up of 75kg felt tougher than it should have. 78kg it is!
And salvage the day I did. I’m incredibly proud of how I put the Snatch behind me and continued on. I adjusted my C&J warm ups according to some advice I received after worlds from Chip Conrad and it worked. I didn’t jerk my last warm up and this is something I may keep. My clean and jerks haven’t felt as good as they did on Saturday in months and I’m so pleased with how I hit them. I went 3 for 3 for the first time this year. While it was lighter, I managed to stay over the bar longer and every clean was powerful enough that there was never a question on hitting high enough for white lights. My shoulder felt good, or I should say, it didn’t feel bad and that’s a first. I hit a strong 82kg on my final lift to increase my standing American Master’s record (even with the bomb out, my Snatch American Master’s record still stands;)
OH! Annnnnnnd, I DID get to run over and shake Greg Everett’s hand afterwards and even got hug from Mike Gray. While talking with Greg, I shared with him that I also compete in Highland Games and I felt pretty proud when he said, “ya, I could never do that and compete in Weightlifting.”
But I did. I did that and while I’m loath to appear as if bragging, I’m awfully proud. It’s been a helluva ride this year and while my body is glad it’s over, my heart is full.
So where do I go from here? To Hot Yoga, of course. Heh. But seriously, this week will be hot yoga and swimming. I’m not going to touch a barbell for myself. And then I start a deload period. I don’t know how long that will be. At least 3 weeks but if I need longer, I’ll take it. I’ll start hitting some throwing drills in a few weeks but no full throws. I won’t go higher in the lifts than I did this weekend for quite some time and I’ve already got the green light to be able to go to a Catalyst Athletics weightlifting seminar in January. As long as I’m blessed enough to stay healthy, I will get better at this and I will be on the platform again.
When I was getting my stuff together, Stacy asked how I feel about the day. Here’s my answer:
While I’m a bit pissy that I was called on that last lift and bombed out, it’s my job to ensure that my lifts don’t give the judges any room for interpretation. That’s on me. So I need to ensure that I’m hitting a strong lockout and I’ll work on that before National’s in March. I’ll stew for a while about it, but it’s on me to fix. My clean and jerks were solid and I worked hard on that. It was a good day.
I believe this with all my heart.
To be number one, you have to train like you’re number two.
I dunno, if I go to Wembley stadium, I want to see something amazing. Like Muse; or Queen; or Jimi Hendrix. Not some snoozefest American football game. I can see those at home and still enjoy leftover Halloween candy and Halloween wine.
There’s a lol story here that encapsulates how I feel about NFL ties. My favorite line was, ‘The tie game in London might’ve been the first one that fans actually enjoyed because guess what: Everyone in England is used to ties.’ I chuckled out loud at that one.
Snore.
Anyways. Since moving to Wisconsin, I have experienced a larger than normal type of fandom. Packer Backers are no joke. My favorite line that I’m confronted with at least once per season upon hearing that I’m from Minnesota and a Vikings fan is, ‘How many world championship rings do YOU have??!!’ My answer has been; Well none, I’ve taken second place at World Championships the last two years. Thanks for that pleasant little fucking reminder. That gets met with a confused look and a change of topic. Good, that was the goal.
Cuz I don’t care. Many Packer Backers care. And by “care” I mean they are unreasonably cuckoo about it. The majority of Milwaukee Packer Backers despise the Chicago home teams, go Indians. But they are devout Chicago Blackhawks fans. I. Can’t. Even. Now, if I wanted to hate a sports team, I would be very justified in hating the Chicago Blackhawks. They were the evil rival in the Norris division of the North Stars and when you went to a game at the old Met Center, you’re sure to see at least three scuffles between Blackhawks and Stars fans. But then Norm Green (another person I could hate since he took away our beloved Stars) took away our beloved Stars and pussified them down in Texas. (Not really, but kinda.)
There are many times someone will tell me that they don’t care about sports but then rage on their FB pages about teams they hate. Hate. A sports team. And it doesn’t matter if it’s college or Pro, these Cheeseheads hate across the board. Now, of course, other regions have their versions of fandom. I don’t doubt that there’s a crazy everywhere, maybe even in Minnesota (but prolly not.)
When the Z’s played hockey, I hated playing teams from New Ulm. Tell ya what, those Germans are no joke. Especially at tournaments. You could tell the drinks were flowing from sun up to sun down and if you played them in the afternoon or evening, you had dozens of drunk fans with cowbells screaming, “zigga zagga zigga zagga, OY OY OY!” with every score. OH, by the way, every score meant that the puck went by my daughter. Hockey goaltender Mom-ing ain’t for wimps. Tell ya what. But I didn’t hate the team. The team was made up of a bunch of little girls I didn’t know. Zandra’s High School team had some other fun rivalries and while it wouldn’t occur to me to hate them, her team beating them was awfully satisfying.
I was far more concerned with how she was doing and in the game of small town High School hockey, a loss meant that the goaltender failed at their job and every loss went solely on her shoulders. It was torture.
I’ve been a Vikings “fan” since I was a little girl because, well, I grew up in Minnesota and Dad was a Vikings fan. We went to Games. We went to see Carl Eller at Iten Chevrolet and there’s a picture out there somewhere of me sitting on his lap in my favorite red, knitted poncho. I mean, CARL ELLER! What’s not to love about this:
Srsly.
But when they lost, I didn’t get mad. There have been times through the years where they give you a slight heartbreak but then you move on. I dunno, I guess I learned from my dad that when they won an exciting game it was very exciting for about 10 minutes and then we’d go on to the next thing. When they lost, it would be disappointing for about 10 minutes and then we’d go on to the next thing. Perspective, Pastor John has it.
I watched one of the World Series games the other night, the one in Cleveland that Chicago won, when the camera panned the crowd at one point. A man was crying. Crying. I mean, really, if we know nothing we STILL know THERE’S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL! But even if there was, how about not during Game 2 when your team is down. The most disturbing part of this man, is that while crying, he looked pissed. Like, I hope there wasn’t a sweet little wifey back at home who doesn’t care about baseball and asks, “Did you have fun at the game?” when he gets home and then he kicks the shit out of her cuz, well, he didn’t have fun at the game. Ya, probably a made up story but I’m going with it. I don’t want to know a grown man who’s crying at a baseball game unless he’s down on the field, wearing a jersey and you’ve just lost the whole show. Then, maybe a glistening tear is appropriate. The weird thing was that this man was sitting in pretty prime seats so it’s assumed he could afford prime seats but then was on the television crying at a baseball game. Dude. Srsly.
In general, I don’t care. I like when the Vikings beat the Packers because that’s fun and then my Packer Backer uncle up north buys us steak dinners. But if the Vikings lose the next one, we’ll buy and it will still be awesome because we get to spend time together. (My Uncle is a Master Clockmaker. He is one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met and I could listen to his stories for hours and hours. He should do a TED talk on “time.” Seriously. He’s amazing.) He gets less annoyed now when the Packers lose but about 30 years ago I tried calling him to give him a hard time after a Vikings win and it wasn’t well received. Heh.
I can understand Collegiate alumni caring about a sports outcome. They still don’t get to cry about it but I understand. Our friends, Ross and Victoria, were throwers at Nebraska. She is a Big 12 Hammer champion, Vic is metal. Anyways. The first time I met them was at a Highland Games and Nebraska lost that day (football.) I was wondering who this crazy man was who cared so much about the ‘Huskers (I went to school in Nebraska, I understand the level of crazy there.) Turns out it was just Ross. But I kind of get that. You have four years of your life invested in a program where you were one. Again, you’ve invested. Got it.
To my knowledge, I know of no Packer Backers with NFL appointed World Championship rings being worn. But I don’t wear one either, even a non-NFL appointed Championship ring (a Championship ring would have cost over $300 and I chose not to get one. If I want to spend over $300 on jewelry, I’d want something in the form of a plane ticket somewhere. True story.) But I’m ready for that all important question of, “HOW MANY CHAMPIONSHIP RINGS DO YOU HAVE???!!!”
I can honestly answer, none-I chose not to order one but my Silver medal from World Championships in the other sport I compete in is hanging from my Championship bear and I’m pretty proud of it. I imagine that will still be met with confusion and followed by a topic change.
