tosabarbell

When the Z’s were younger, being good little Minnesota boy and girl, they played hockey. Zac turned into a defensemen and even at a very young age, had a keen eye for where the play was developing. Some negative ‘Association’ experiences had him leave it early and that’s on me to not handle it correctly. I so hated hockey parents and the “association” police. It’s not my first regret as a parent and certainly won’t be the last.

Zandra stuck with it much longer and had some good runs in the net. I won’t get into the absolute shit treatment goalies get from not only other parents but their teammates too. Today. That’s not the message for today.

One favorite term among parents of girls hockey is that, at times, other teams would play “chippy.” It’s said with disgust and anger as if it’s unpalatable to even utter.

Chippy, in girls hockey speak, means aggressive and dirty. Pushing the limits of the referee’s (we say ref’s, also with anger and disgust) in hopes that they don’t get caught and when they do they perform a European football sized display of shock and outrage that such a poor call was made. And this is at the squirt age. By the time they get to High School, they’ve perfected this trick good enough to fool some of the new ref’s into not making a call. The whole point of the act.

Duh.

And that was something to throw shade at? When I was 14 I taunted a girl at a softball game so bad that she ran right for me (I played shortstop at that particular game) on a hit and I faced her, braced myself and let her try to take me down. She ended up on her ass and I ended up on the bench. I deserved it but hot damn was that satisfying. I was the poster girl of “Chippy.” I love aggressive competition. Helloooooo, hockey fan? I have tried so many times to enjoy non-contact sports and I just can’t. It’s so torturous. Pretend fouls; throwing tantrums; pretending you need 911 at every turn. How is that enjoyable???

Anyways. Chippy. Chippy, in our circles I guess, was undesirable. If I had a dollar for every time I heard the sentence “just play the game, leave the physical stuff out of it” I’d have enough money to buy at least one sports mom a personality. LEAVE THE PHYSICAL STUFF OUT OF IT??!!! It’s hockey! Leaving the physical stuff out of it means you’ve just become a basketball player. Foking duh!

So that’s me…at a very early age. Chippy. Not dirty, per say. But pushing the limits for sure. And I still compete that way. Oh, the chippiness (it’s a word spell check, stop redlining me) has gone away mainly because I’m not competing in that setting. Once this late winter, I missed a snatch in spectacular fashion and as I fell on my ass the bar hit the shit out of my shin. Shin ouchies demand lots of swearing. Matt was in the gym at the time and stood up wondering what to do and was helpless as I walked it off cussing my brains out. Now THAT made weightlifting a contact sport and the bar won. Well done.

But driving myself in competition is still there and, in most cases, I thrive in it. Except for now. Something is going on where I’ve approached the last two Games with a bit of a relaxed, “practice this”, attitude. It hit hard last Saturday and is annoying the ever living out of me. So, yes, the season is young. Throws obviously aren’t where I want them to be 3 months from now but that doesn’t mean that mentally I’m not in the Game. And I haven’t been.

Unacceptable. Not me. I’ve adjusted my practices to work on that and as of yesterday, it worked. There are a lot of mechanical things to relax and think about on a throws day but at Gametime? It’s time to shut it down, relax; prioritize, and attack. I haven’t done that and it needs to change.

That’s how I like to compete and I have fun doing so. I don’t have fun not doing so and the numbers these last two Games show it. Abysmal is the only word I can think of so back to the drawing board to mentally prepare for Games day and hopefully my next one (June) will show as such.

Hopefully.

You have competition every day because you set such high standards for yourself that you have to go out every day and live up to that.

Michael Jordan

This is your car:

This is your car with muscle:

Get the picture?

My ex had a 70’s Chevelle when we started dating. It was badass. He and the Oz man have even seen it around town here and there. I loved driving it. There was some weird reaction when the men would admire a muscle car and then see a woman climbing out of it. As if they couldn’t quite get their heads around the fact a woman was driving a dude’s car. It was lulz.

One of the descriptions of Muscle Cars I’ve seen describe them like this; the car should be just like human, STRONG, POWERFUL, and with STRENGTH. 

Huh. So like this?

Obviously, a well fueled machine. (Rugby men FTW.)

I’ve known other Muscle Car enthusiasts and the one constant in all of them is that they keep their little beauty well fueled. Only the best. That V8 is so well taken care of it boggles my mind how they can put so much effort into a car and not apply it to their own lives. Everything is precise as to the TLC they give all the way down to the fuel they use to run them.

Fuel. Ya know, food in human terms. Big and strong doesn’t come without it. Sorry. You can look all you want for other sources. Some equate that Advocare shit with fuel. Nope. Not the same. Sorry. Food. Fuel. One of the first things people ask me or Matt when they meet us is which supplements they should be taking. The best supplement on the planet?

Food. Meat. Veggies. Fat. No shortcuts, no short changes. Food. It fuels us. Without it we are not performing our best. We leave ourselves open to disease; malnutrition; lethargy; obesity (what?); a revolving door of doctor’s visits; illness; lack of concentration, subpar athletic ability to name a few kickbacks of not fueling your body correctly. Ya know, fun stuff.

Yesterday, I played chauffeur for some friends and took their daughter to her lacrosse game. In the lacrosse world, we say LAX. So you know. Now, I don’t have a clue how this game is played but I did get a crash course of it and though it’s not something I would enjoy (so much running), I can appreciate the athleticism needed to do it well. The other team had maybe five or six girls (I think this is 6-7 graders or something like that so for girls a pretty wide variety of body shapes) who were what one mom next to me called, “overweight bully’s.” Nice job mom, start ’em young.

The funny thing is, these “overweight” girls were built very similar to how I was at that age. Already had a shape, bigger legs, and never again to see a stick figure in the mirror. Ya know what the fun part was? These girls were the best out there. Their weight held strength and their ability to apply force off the ground was noticeable. They were able to blow by the “non-developed” girls with ease as if they were a fly on their forearm. They were the best runners. They were the most athletic. Now, their team lost but I don’t care. These girls are on their way to having a chance to be very good athletes. Yeah overweight bully’s (yes, playing aggressive now is called field bullying. Foking ‘merika.)

Two of them came off the field as we were waiting talking about how hungry they were. Cause, ya know, they were short on fuel. They’d just been running for over an hour and a half and needed to refuel. So awesome.

These girls? Think they avoid fueling their bodies like a 70’s Chevelle?

ps: sprinters are amazing.

According to Livestrong, sprinters diets are dialed in precisely to be able to take in the calories needed for training (fuel) but without gaining too much body fat. 60% of your daily intake of fuel should be protein and you should consider 1 gram of protein per one pound of body weight. Pretty standard stuff. I get about 200g of protein in through food and protein powder which (right now) is less than 1g per bw but hey, I’m a phat (but really I’m just short.)

Honestly, if you google pretty much any sport where energy is expressed, the diet will be very similar. Fuel first, coming in the form of protein, carbs and some fat (coconut oil FTW.) Here’s a picture of Big Z’s breakfast prior to the squat event in last weeks WSM 2015 in Malaysia (he took second place, foking 3rd atlas stone and injured back. Still though, great job):

Now, of course we need to apply this to Strongman squatting instead of 6th grade LAX but still, get the picture? Food is fuel. Without it, we are not running at optimum performance. Why would we not want to run at optimum performance?

Why?

To me, breakfast is my most important meal. It’s often the meal you play a game on. I make sure I have oatmeal, milk, and fruit. It’s the fuel you use to hopefully do your best, so eating right is a big part of being a professional athlete. I wish I paid more attention to it earlier in life.

Andrew Luck

Block; Post; Whip; Drive; Orbit; Stretch; Right side: Finish; Eyes, what do all of these throwing cue’s have in common?

They’re not step 1.

And that’s the crux of being a new thrower. Oh sure, we may be older and have athletic backgrounds. Maybe even have competed in other sports for years. But throwing? An entirely new beast. And the biggest thing I’ve learned out of my whole whoppin’ two seasons is this: advice will be free; it will be plentiful, and in many cases, it will be wrong.

Imagine this: you are new to squatting. Sure, you’ve seen many different styles but this is your first time under the bar and there are plenty of bro’s to help you through it. Best piece of advice? “Dude, at the very end, snap your knees back and your hips through or it’s not finished.” 

Dude. Srsly.

At the end? THE END? But…the rep’s about done? How many ways did I fuck things up from getting under the bar; unracking; stepping back, and actually squatting the stupid thing. 100? Yes. 100. (Maybe not 100, but 10? Yes, 10.) Cuz you just cued (incorrectly) step 11. And if steps 1-10 don’t go well, step 11 won’t mean shit.

True story.

See, unless you’ve been throwing for years, step 11 isn’t as helpful as STEP 1!!! DUHHHHHHH!!!!

The cues you get may be the easiest for your throwing “bro” to see but not necessarily the best for you. The first time I threw the hammer, the word “orbit” was repeated at least 4,287 times. FoShizzle. As if the process of repeating it would make it make sense. Finally, Coach Mac pulled me aside and said, “Right hand, right foot.” Ohhhhhhhhh, useful. As we all know, I struggle greatly with this event but after two years guess what? The word “orbit” still means shit to me. There are steps I need to figure out before I worry about it or at the very least figure out HOW to get the ball in the correct orbit. Repeating the word isn’t helpful, telling me how is.

Groundbreaking.

Now, before I hear, “Well we’re just trying to be helpful and will never say anything at all so there you’re on your own dudette,” I know. I know every piece of advice is coming from a good place (most of the time.) The wonderful thing about Highland Games is that people want each other to succeed. That is cool. So cool.

But we must understand who we’re talking to. After two years of trying to “block” in stones, I was told that without enough drive or speed, it probably won’t happen. Ummmmmm, duh. I’ve been trying to “slap the giant” or something like that all this time when I could have been focused on gaining speed in a very short space. Now, it could be that those telling me to block assumed I knew this. But see I don’t. Cuz I’m green. A noob. Novice. Don’t-o Know-o Shit-o. Comprendre-o?

Step 1. What is step 1? If you don’t know, then should advice be dispensed? I honestly don’t know. I try to keep my mouth shut during throws unless specifically asked and even then I’m careful with what I say. Cuz I’m new, and I don’t know step 1. This may make me appear unhelpful. Don’t care. The last thing I need is to be telling others what to do in a sport I’m just barely starting to understand on Games day when we have no coaching/athlete relationship to begin with.

If I see something happening in others good throws (*COUGHkatieandluke*COUGH) I’ll usually say, “I see ‘x’ but am not putting it together, advice?” And the good one’s know. A quick, useful cue and then I leave them alone to their throws. At least I try to roll that way.

Also, judges. Often times judges have been around long enough and are throwers themselves. If I’m struggling in an event, the first thing I do is ask the judge, “what do you see?” They are invaluable. In Hawaii, I fouled my first LWD. I asked the judge about it and he simply said, “tighten up the feet. You’ll be fine.” And I was. Flat, but I fixed my feet and on Games day fixing the important stuff is priority. Flat is something I can work on at home.

Step 1…tighten the feet. YaBuddy!

I’m not a mean player. You’ll notice that I never pick on anyone with a number higher than 30.

Mike Ditka

Sunset is a very special time. We can reflect on the day and let it go.

One of the bigger challenges growing up in an adopted Scandihoovian home as a Hawaiian was not having a connection to my heritage…or so I thought. Now, before I go on I need to state some facts for the record. First off, my parents have always made adoption a matter of fact. I feel very fortunate that I don’t have hangups about being abandoned or other issues that I’ve heard from adoptees. I was adopted. That doesn’t make me more, or less, special than anyone else. It’s just how I arrived at this family and I’m so appreciative for their honest and up front communication about it. Mom used to read me a book on adoption, it was one of my favorites for a while but I think I just liked Mom reading me books. True story.

And as much as I honestly LOVE the traditions and beauty of Scandinavian history, I did want my own. The funny thing is, I had some of it instilled in me without even knowing. For instance, we were lucky enough to have an up north Cabin that we would spend months and then weeks at as we got older. The lake is fed by (then) a still clean Mississippi river and you could see at least 20′ down in the clear water. I love it. Some of my favorite memories in life are those from the cabin. From sun up to sun down, I would want to be in the water. Hawaiian. We do love our water. It’s calming. It’s peaceful and I’ve already written about how it is my church when I need grounding.

I also had a (what I thought was) weird thing with stones. I wouldn’t take any pretty agates from Lake Superior if we found them. It annoyed my brother who always looked for agates. I’d find them and wouldn’t tell him about it. Why? Well, the rocks belonged to the lake, right? They weren’t for me to take. I didn’t make them beautiful through years of waves hitting them, the lake did. Hawaiian. Didn’t even know.

Sunrise was my favorite time. People are already in the water and the Island just comes alive each minute.

This carries over to throwing. Working with the implements (even the Hammers, we’re still getting to know each other;) instead of against them. Using good energy that has gone into them. Hawaiian. You can dismiss it all you want, don’t care. It’s meaningful to me and mine to own. So when the opportunity arose to actually go and throw on the Island, I was in.

And the day was incredible. As hard on myself I can be about not throwing better, I have to let it go with the sunset and just take it all in. Our group had so much fun and we flew through the events judged by Jonathon Low who called things very strict and very fair. Exactly what you want from a judge. He also has an excellent coaching eye and was hugely helpful to us throughout the day. It was an absolute blast and I’m so thankful for the experience.

But our Hawaii trip was more than just throwing. I realized at some point on Friday afternoon, while sitting out on our balcony and reading a couple of books I had going that I was more relaxed than I had been in years. Total relaxation. No anxiety. No stress. No expectations. No worries. Just sit on my balcony and read my books. Having the daughter there and her BFF was just as much fun as I thought it would be. Their energy is good and silly and funny always balanced out with some quiet time when they needed it. It also took them about 8 minutes to go “Island” and not worry about anything…

…except sunburns. I’d been given great advice by the Hawaiians I train to hit the beach earlier in the day and then again later. Stay out of the water and sun during the noon-3pm range and we’ll be just fine. When we visited family on Maui years ago, we got so completely fried on day one that we pretty much had to stay out of the water and sun the remainder of the trip. That sucked. Not this time, we were ready. We hit the beach for a while each day in (relatively) small amounts and came away bronzed but not burned. Shweet.

We missed the sunset on Friday having dinner with friends from Texas so our first was Saturday night. I have to say, watching Zandra’s face as the sun went down, seeing her look around and dig her feet in the sand and finally turn to me and say, “I wish I’d grown up here” was a pretty good ‘mom’ moment. She felt it, the Hawaiian in her calling to her heart. It was probably my favorite moment from the entire trip. Watching her get that connection with a heritage that is so far away from what she grew up with. I loved it.

Even though we had grand plans of things we were going to do and see, we didn’t. We hit the beaches constantly; enjoyed both local AND tourist food; lots of MaiTai’s and spent the bulk of our money at the ABC stores grabbing snacks and drinks to go for the beach. I finished one book and am getting through the other. I drank coffee off my balcony and really tried to pack it to bring it home. I eventually realized that this is the Hawaiian vacation I’d always dreamt of. Total relaxation; beach time; sunrise and sunset’s, and just not having to go anywhere. That’s what I wanted and I guess needed and that’s exactly what I got. Special time with the daughter and Mayce and witnessing some of the silliest things I’ve seen between the two of them. No cleaning, no cooking, no dishes, no being overwhelmed with the house, no laundry, no scrubbing, no turning my eyes away from so much to be done around here. Sit. Feel the sun. Swim. Read.

Feel the aloha…and then some.

Onipa’a (stand firm)

Queen Lili’uokalani