The other day, one of my clients asked me how my training was going and if there was anything specific I was training for these days. I actually had to give this some thought and after a minute I finally said, ‘my training is just training right now. Just doin’ work.’
It’s different for me this year. Last year I was dialed in with the Arnold Highland Games looming ahead. I’d watch weather reports much closer hoping I could find a day to go throw out in the snow without freezing in single digits temps. I’d find stones and throw them in a nearby parking lot for practice and when they’d break, I’d go find some more. I’d practice the weight over bar into snow banks and I can remember the slightly panicked feeling I’d have when I couldn’t find the weight. Yes, I knew it was there…somewhere. Butthe first time I had to dig and dig with my hand, I brought a small shovel after that just in case.
This year? This year I eased out of my 10×10’s in December without fanfare as hot yoga has kept me moving much better. I fit my Olympic lifts in once a week when I can as usual but my numbers have taken a dive compared to what I lifted in my early December meet. Totally normal considering the training load I’ve been under for the last two months.
I’ve gone twice out to Winner’s Edge in Pewaukee to drill the throws whereas last year I was doing this in early December on a weekly basis. In all honesty, my training right now is just very ‘meh.’ And I’m okay with that.
This is the time foundations are laid. It’s not sexy, it’s not exciting. It’s just work. Get your reps in. Do your practice. Don’t worry about an immediate payoff. The payoff comes later, much later. Late summer. Early fall. Some people are already throwing (well done Katie and the East team!!!) But not me.
I’m still hoping for a late Christmas miracle in that I get the nod to get my qualifying total and be able to lift at The Arnold. If I do, my weightlifting will become the focus of my training. I don’t know if it will happen or not, I hope so. I’d really love to lift at the Masters PanAmericans. But that’s out of my control right now so I just put in the work.
A little bit boring. A lotta bit ‘meh.’ But that’s okay. I’m not a child who needs constant stimulation or can’t focus on something longer than it takes to throw a bar down after a PR. Adults train. Sometimes for the future. Sometimes for a specific event. Sometimes just to stay as strong as possible for as long as possible. Just do the work. It’ll payoff when you need it. True story.
Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.
Last Sunday, I woke up around 6am to a text from the daughter, who was scheduled to return home that day after a Minnesota New Years celebration with her friends. In general, middle of the night texts or calls are not good. Middle of the night SnapChats are usually entertaining, not calls. The one line text was to tell me that her friend since early middle school, Jacob Reno, had killed himself the evening before. My reply,
“Zandra. No.”
No. Not another Hutchinson suicide. Not again. And especially, not Reno. Just no. No. No. No.
As much as I want to rail on what is happening in this town that this is the 3rd suicide in 5 months time and WTF is going on that there is seemingly a veil of hopelessness for these young people; to do so would not give honor to Reno’s memory, and the way his friends are getting through this.
That is the story for today.
A passion of Reno’s was off roading. He and all of his friends are the epitome of boys just wanting to play in the mud. And as they got older, their toys (and their creativity) got better in allowing them to do so.
Anyways.
As you can see in the first picture above, Reno would put his jeep through just about everything it could survive. And some it couldn’t. Heh. Because of this, the jeep had been parked for a while with hopes of getting it up and running again to mud on in Appleton (Minnesota. Yes, there’s an Appleton, Minnesota. Who knew?) which is a popular off road area.
When the news spread throughout Reno’s friends of his passing, they, in search through their shock and grief for some meaning in all of this suddenly found a mission. Get Reno’s jeep up and running. And not only up and running, but spotless and beautiful. A ride befitting of one of the best friends they’ll ever have. And off they went.
Night and day, this crew worked. That they took a mud spattered vehicle that hadn’t been running in over a year to fully restored in just under 5 days gives us just a glimpse of the almost panicked drive to do something. Anything. Just do something to get through this.
And they did. Actually twice. Here is Reno’s father in the restored Jeep. Beautiful. I was fortunate to watch them put the final touches on Thursday evening and get it running. Through their tears, and sobs, there were sad smiles. A job well done, giving purpose in spite of so many questions and sadness. I quietly stood off to the side in complete awe of these young people. When I walked in, there were some terse, stressed conversations in one corner. A little small town drama in another. But when the Jeep sprang to life, all of that stopped. All focus was on that Jeep. Cheers; more smiles; and many more tears. So happy with the accomplishment, so sad for it’s purpose. It was devastatingly beautiful to watch.
But, the ‘little boys who love to play in the mud’ quickly came out and they decided to take it for a spin (living out of town in the country has it’s advantages.) And who better to pilot the maiden voyage than Reno’s younger brother. They took off and conversation resumed around the garage. Suddenly, the door opened, and the jeep limped it’s way back in to more cheers; more laughter; and yes, more tears.
A blown tire, smooshed mirror and a roof rack gone (it took a couple of minutes to register that one) later and they quickly went back to work. It was something to see.
The next day the kids decided to salute Reno’s memory by parking their trucks at the High School just like they did back in the day (which earned each of them a $140 ticket waiting for them after school. This time they had permission.) Heh. Everyone wanted in and it was really as festive as a sad occasion allows in 30 below windchill, Minnesota winter. All of the vehicles, including Reno’s truck AND his Jeep got parked as high up the snow bank as possible (yes, many were towed out afterwards.)
Another accomplishment. Something needed so much in times of such sadness. To the rest of the world, parking your trucks on a snowbank means nothing. To this group, it meant everything. Seeing his truck and his Jeep right along with everyone else’s…a moment to forget about this horrible nightmare.
There were many, many moments all weekend long that showed this groups unity. As proud of them as I am, I ache for them. There is such pain. Too much pain. These kids have been through so much tragedy and now must walk through another. I worry that as “real life” of jobs and responsibilities set in and take over again that the togetherness that has seen them through this far, may be lost. That they forget how they came to honor Reno and grieve. Together. That small town dust ups will again carry too much meaning which causes more hurt feelings and a sense of alone. I worry that this group hug will be forgotten through hurt and processing grief.
I worry that my daughter, who is back home safe and sound (thankfully) but is so sad will live to bide her time until she is back with her friends and forget to fully live life. I worry for my son who is still there and at times, is just surviving each day. I worry for those who carry images in their minds of unimaginable horror instead of happy times with their friend. Those who carry guilt for an imagined part in Reno’s death. I worry that they’ll forget, in time, to keep checking on each other. And maybe more importantly, that they’ll forget to be honest with each other when life gets too hard and ask for help.
But in spite of the worry, I picture how they all came together to find purpose; to grieve; to laugh and cry; to give comfort to each other and Reno’s family; to remember; and yes, even to argue a little as they work out their own feelings and I feel hope. Hope that, in time, they will live full and amazing lives that honor the smiles of Reno and his memory.
And I tell ya what, I will never again pass a mud puddle without thinking of Reno’s smile…and that picture of him on top of his Jeep in the mud. And I may even jump in one, if only to reach out a little bit to the memory of a boy who loved the mud.
All these people live as long as you remember ’em.
One of the worst things we go through, as parents, is to see our children hurt. Either through consequences of their own behavior; physical hurt, or emotional hurt in life. It breaks our hearts. To not be able to fix pain, it goes against everything we believe in as mom or dad.
Just below that “worst” is to see another parent in pain. Real pain. Not, ‘Oh I’m so sad my college aged student is going to college and no longer in the house.’ But, “I will never rub my child’s shoulder again. I will never tell them how proud I am that they are my child. They no longer walk this earth.” Real pain.
Both events are happening this weekend.
Hurt. Johnny Cash.
Because he always seems to nail it.
RIP Reno. I wish so many things in life but most of all, I wish for that moment back last Saturday. Most of all. YOU! ARE! SO! LOVED!
Jacob Reno, loved by so many. #callafriend
We do not have control, over many things in life and death but we do have control over the meaning we give it.
Have you made it past Henry Rollins? Impressive. He’s an acquired taste.
It occurred to me that, since it’s a new year and I have over 500 blog posts, maybe I need to remind folks what this thing is all about. Or, that is, what it isn’t. There seems to be enough people who check in each day that keeps me writing. The whole “who’s reading your blog” feature is pretty cool. I always know when the Bigg man reads it when I get hits from faraway lands that he’s in. That’s fun for me. A little connection from half a world away.
There seems to be one dude or dudette in Brazil who barely misses a day. Who ARE you? It kind of cracks me up. There are friends here and there around the globe that I imagine check in when I see a small uptick from their little highlighted country, that’s fun too. Overall I imagine most who check in are pretty used to my rants; our antics; and my never ending battle with the middle aged hormonal chub. The food rants; the crappy lifting video rants; the food porn; the happy happy joy joy Games recaps. Normal stuff around here. Well, common around here, but one thing I always need to keep in mind that “common” to us maybe isn’t “normal” to others.
But it is perhaps the truest story that this blog is not for everyone. We’ve got our tiny niche here and conversations heard around the house may baffle others. I’ve seen the daughter visibly tune out when we start talking training, she thinks I don’t notice. Heh. So, knowing that I’m going to lose a few (but hopefully not the Brazil dude/dudette), here are some tips that maybe this blog isn’t for you.
1) First and foremost, if this blog has nothing to do with you yet you take things personally. Stay away. Really, you’re going to be quite miserable around here. And, oh by the way, there is a 99.9 percent chance that this blog has nothing to do with you. While I may reference an event or make some kind of side note about a funny event we’ve taken part in, there will be an overall theme to a post. Which probably has nothing to do with you. But if your insecurities enable you to take things personal around here, I’d stay away. That last thing I want to do is be co-dependent to someone’s insecurities.
2) On that note, if you’re insecure about food; training; parenting; driving; eating; which shoes you wear while mowing the lawn; beer; working; sleeping; showering (we’re really not bath people); standing; sitting; falling; doing dishes; making your bed, basically anything and everything dealing with life…don’t come here. Cuz you’re going to read into posts things that aren’t there and whip yourself into such a frenzy that by the time I see you, you’re loaded for bear (I love saying, “Loaded for bear.”) Don’t put yourself through that, it has to be exhausting.
3) Don’t read this blog if you’re going to use it against others I love. Ya know how many people write on this blog? One. Me. All me. My words and I own them, even when they’ve gotten me in hot water. I don’t recant and I don’t put the blame on anyone else. I will apologize if something was misquoted because you failed to take the time to actually read the blog and just listen to gossip of others on “juli said something like, blah blah blah, oh my god what a bitch.” I will apologize if I have NAMED you and you’re still upset. I’ll apologize that my writing has hurt your feelings. But I will always ask, ‘was I wrong?’ The answer will probably be “no” and that’s on you dude. If you haven’t read this blog, each post, each line but still want to come at anyone else in my home for something written, just stay away. I have said this before and I imagine I’ll have to say it again cuz people are thick, If one line of one blog pisses you off, just stay away.
I had this happen a couple of years ago and it still makes me shake my head. Someone I thought I had a real relationship with took one line of a food post incredibly personal. I don’t know why. Never will. But that they went out and attempted to “circle the wagons” with other friends to ice me out wasn’t ok. Ya know how long it takes me to mourn that broken relationship? About as long as it took to type that. Life’s too short. But if one line of one blog post is used to “ice” out people I love, then we have a problem. Because, let’s recap, who writes this blog? Me. You got a problem with it, come to the source.If you can’t, then you’re not adult, and oh by the way…
4) No kids allowed. At any age. This is an adult blog. It’s cussy and bossy and no place for kids. Sure, there are some G posts, usually involving kids and how crazy their antics are that are entertaining. My daughter reads some, especially if I tell funny stories about her and even some of those have got a “geez Ma” out of her. Again, some posts may touch on insecurities, that sucks eh? I guess I’m not too afraid though because we have enough in this country that we get to be consumed by insecurities instead of, oh I dunno, survival. Lucky us.
But we’re adults around here, even when we go to Scotland and drink like teenagers. So if you’re offended by a post, you get to be adult about it. Give me a call, the number is front and center. Say something like, ‘ya know what jules, you said “x” and I think I’m offended by it but can you tell me it’s context so I know I should be offended by it or not.’ And I’ll be all, “sure dude, but did you read the blog.” If the answer is no, the conversation is over. This happened (the non-adult thing, not the adult conversation thing) with a group and it still cracks me up that when we see one of them in town they quickly duck their head and avoid talking to Matt. Matt, ya know, the guy they’re supposed to be supporting and has NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING WRITTEN ON THIS BLOG! Christ, how many times can I say that for it to sink in.
Grow up people, this is an adult only blog.
5) Runners. Stay away, you annoy me.
BWAHAHAHHAAAA, just kidding Jenn. Love you.
6) Stay away if you feed your family crap that makes them sick and weak and so they barf a lot. You won’t like it here. Please, there are sure to be mommy blogs that enable your lack of parenting skill. (Oops, hopefully if you made it past #2 and you’re not offended by that.)
7) Stay away if strength means nothing to you. At the heart of what we live, it’s to live with strength. That means many things to many people, but why bother if you don’t care about it at all. Really, the amount of blogs on the market these days are in the thousands, at least. Mine isn’t for you. I’m okay with that, hopefully you are too.
So, for the, oh I dunno, EIGHT of you that’s left…welcome to tosabarbell.com. What you’ll see here are rants; food porn; pics of my dog; pics of my adorable husband; a few pics of me in competition if they make it through the rigorous standards of “how fat do I look?” You’ll hear opinions, you don’t have to like them. Just think a little bit. There is one writer, my name is Juli (I felt very Suzanne Vega there) and I write this blog. Me. Only me.
It’s okay if you don’t stick around, it’s not for everyone. True story.
I believe that one defines oneself by reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself. To cut yourself out of stone.
