And I’m 120!

Posted on November 14, 2013 by tosabarbell

Two things. First…our hotel in Vilnius was attached to the Tennis center and Z’s gym. Most of us were on the 4th floor so stairs were out of the question. The mini sized elevators were, well, mini. Bigg and I fit and once we had a tiny eastern European man with us but he was smooshed to the door and it was kinda awkward. I commented right away that I’d like to see how many Strongman we could fit in this thing. Think clowns and a VW bug, YO!

2nd…by far two of my favorite new friendly Strongman in Vilnius were Alex Moonen the Dutchie and Rob Frampton the Brit. I’m finding I really like the Dutchie’s. They’re direct; and honest; but kind; kind of. They’re probably a little abrupt but I really respond to that. Go figure. Also, when I handed Alex Highland Games Minion and told him his story, he jumped right in…

Vilnius 064

The funny thing about Alex also is that when he has his beard, he and the Bigg guy look a lot alike in the face. In fact, one of the amateurs called Matt Alex when they saw him in the lobby our first night. Anyways, Alex is funny; and strong; and smart; and witty; and an awesome dude to hang out with. Rob Frampton proves that those Brits are just all around great people to befriend. He’s hard working and at the same time self deprecating to the point of hilarity. He has a sweet side that was similar to what I also noticed with Loz in Findlandia last spring. Somewhat soft spoken but ready to crack a joke at a moment’s notice. We basically kidnapped Rob for post event drinks with Marcel and Dutchie Strongman Simon Sulaiman (another awesome Dutchie of course.) It was chill but a great time. OH! Rob also does an amazing American accent that sounds like a combination of North Dakotan; nerd; and hilarious. We always knew where Rob was when he’d yell, “Hey Matt!!” from anywhere. It was awesome.

ANYWAYS! All of the above comes to this. When we arrived back to the hotel after Sunday’s competition, Bigg, me, Alex, and Rob crammed into the tiniest ever elevator including their gym bags. Tight fit. We tried to check the max load of the elevator but couldn’t read the writing. We started ticking off the weight load of our group. Bigg: 165kg; Rob: 160 (ish..don’t remember exactly); Alex: maybe 160ish, again, don’t remember exactly. We were quiet for about 5 seconds when I piped up and said, AND I’M 120! Rob didn’t bite at all but Alex gave me a side-eyed look with a face of near panic thinking…I don’t think she weighs 260 pounds but I don’t know what to say!!!! Poor Alex. Matt pshhhh’d and quickly said that of course I’m not 120 but I said, Well I’m big and strong! With relief, Alex said yes, strong for sure.  Poor Dutchie.

Big and Strong. I actually work really, really hard to be big and strong. Now I don’t want to be big and fluffy, but I do want to be big and strong. Cuz as the Lady GaGa says, I was born that way. I was talking yesterday with one of my clients. David is in his late 50’s, slight build, and keeps us healthy and strong with their Ono Hawaiian food. He weighs about 150 pounds and squatted 60kg yesterday for the first time. He’s awesome. Anyways. I remarked that the last time I weighed 150#??? Probably about 9th grade. Maybe. I know when I was 16 and got my first drivers license my weight on that was 175 (I didn’t know you could lie about that stuff back then.)

Now, I wasn’t a 10th grade fatty. I did ok. I could have done more conditioning but all we knew back then was running and that just wasn’t happening. So I’d run around the bases in softball but that was it. Point is, I was born big and strong. Now I’m stronger…and bigger. There are just some places that middle age puts some fluff. A better off season diet; high volume training, and kettlebells are taking care of that and what it doesn’t, well I’m not going to sweat it. All’s well. I do ok.

I’m obviously not 120…but big and strong? Yup. Born that way…taking advantage of it, YO!

Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.

Mae West

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Comfy

Posted on November 13, 2013 by tosabarbell

The local radio station posed an interesting question yesterday as I listened, swinging a few of my 500kb swings a day. What is your favorite comfort food? People called in and gave the usual junk answers, Twinkies (thanks dogs for them that they’re back!); Mountain Dew (that’s a food?); cake (that’s a food?); pasta; chili dogs, etc. Basically, which food do we turn to when we need comfort.

Uhhhhhhhh, huh?

Food doesn’t comfort. Duh. Food fuels. Food is prepared. Food is processed in our bodies. Food is savored by our taste buds assuming you haven’t killed them with too much sugar and carbs (which many of you have but don’t even know it.) But comfort? Someone’s going to have to explain that one to me.

Ohhhhh, I see. When someone is stressed or sad, their HABIT is to consume shitty food and they’ve talked themselves INTO the idea that it is needed for comfort to feel better. Nice. (Insert V8 forehead punch here. Ya, punch. Don’t waste time with a silly palm bump. Punch some common sense into that sugar hazed brain of yours.) You don’t want to give up this shitty food, which by the way, is keeping you from feeling your best and gives you the ability to think clearer to deal with the issue you needed “comfort” from in the first place.  Gotcha. Comfort on…

Habits can be changed. It’s hard at first, but completely doable. It’s much easier to change a habit then to talk yourself out of some misled attachment to an inanimate object that you believe you need just cuz you’re having a bad day. Food holds no power people unless you are starving. Like, really starving. As in, I have to humble myself and take my family to a shelter for dinner just so they can eat and thank gods that we HAVE a food shelter that will take us. Starving. Chances are 99.999999% that that’s not you. So food? NO. POWER. 

Lots of us work hard in the gym. Right now, this is some of the hardest work I’ve done. High volume; throws drills; watching my food (2# of ground turkey with onions and brown rice still needs to be made up for the next couple of days); kettlebell swings, with an Oly or Throw day thrown in there. Why in the hellz would I then go and eat a meal that will not only make me feel like crap for two days OR send me into some type of sugar/carb coma, but completely derail my progress??? I don’t want to feel like crap. I want to feel big and strong! Crap isn’t comfy. It’s crap.

So I had to think long and hard about a “comfort food” for me. I’m going with blueberry pancakes. I’ve always enjoyed blueberry pancakes, with just a hint of powdered sugar and a good mix of blueberry AND maple syrup. As much as that sounds good right now, I know the after effects would be so miserable it’s not even a hint of temptation. When I want to be comforted I’ll go snuggle with one of my kids; or my Bigg guy; or my dogs. Dogs are great for comfort. If you think you need food, get a dog. And if your dog doesn’t give you comfort, get a different dog. SRSLY.

His touch was like heroin in my veins, and I was a grateful addict.

Kitty Thomas, Comfort Foods

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Raise A Cog

Posted on November 12, 2013 by tosabarbell

There are many definitions of the word Cog but my favorite so far is: A subordinate member of an organization who performs necessary but usually minor or routine functions.

Sooooooo, like a kid? Ya know, each one in the family? Vital to run smoothly but no more and no less than the next one? Like that?

Cuz for now, I’ve had it with the little Johnny’s of the world running around thinking they’re the most special in all the land. Mommies did that. Stop doing that. Know what happens to kids who think the world revolves around them? Uhhhhh, they become adults who thinks the world revolves around them. Duh.

Each family member is a Cog, vital for cohesiveness; but no one holds the golden key to greatness.

Our family getting ready for camping roadtrip? Z’s lay out camping bins, tents, sleeping bags, etc. Everything needed for cozy camp living. The little Oz man  carrying down pillows, blankets for the car, everything laid out that he could carry. Ma supervises and gets food and drinks packed up. Everyone has a job. If one of us fails our job, the whole unit hurts. So we all rely on each other to succeed. We took many roadtrips this way. Texas, multiple times to visit Granny; Yellowstone to hook up with the Washington relatives (one of the funnest 10 days of my life), and Seattle…the granddaddy of all roadtrips. Over 1600 miles of road; kids; mountain passes; and as many Capri Suns and red licorice one Tahoe could hold. (OH! Peanut butter cookies with a kiss in them. The babysitter sent us westward ho with a box of those. We wouldn’t have made it without ’em!) I was a proud Ma. We did it together. I couldn’t have done it without Zac. Or Zandra. Or Oscar. Or the Tahoe;)

If at any point in time, one of the kids revolted and pulled any type of “I need royal treatment, serve me” bullshit that I see kids doing these days, we would’ve sunk. The just past babyhood Oz man had a slight meltdown while gassing up in Spokane but after some explosive dia…well, you get the picture; all was well. (He also wanted to go back home and grab the shovels when we hit snow on our first Wyoming mountain pass. Uhhhhhh, no dude.)

Cogs. No superstars. Oh sure, the past 20 years has brought more attention in moments to one vs. the other two, but to date, they’ve supported each other in either celebrating or helping through hard times. But we had to roll this way. I was a single Ma; had a stressful job; went to school; and had no time for diva’s. If I had kids behave the way I see so many now, demanding attention to parents who are speaking to others; screaming incoherently instead of talking with clear enunciation; telling adults “I WANT!” instead of ‘May I?’; OR throwing such ginormous temper tantrums in stores that parent’s just buy loads of shit to shut them up INSTEAD OF GRABBING HOLD OF LITTLE JOHNNY’S ARM AND LEAVING WITHOUT BUYING ANYTHING!!!! I can’t imagine the relationship I would have with not only my kids (who I would be completely ashamed of) but with those around me.

Raising individual prince and princess’ do them no good mommies and daddies. Showing them that your world, your mission to life is to serve them will most likely make them believe that ALL people were placed on this earth to serve them. Don’t do that. You hurt them. You stunt their ability to recognize needs in others. You raise up high maintenance, self absorbed maniacs who have never heard the words, “You can’t do that now, we have to give ‘anyone else’s name’ attention now.” You give them chores and say good job when they’re done. No, they don’t need a reward. They did what they were supposed to. JHMFC, it’s almost has if kids are being raised with tip jars belted to their pants where they expect additional money or candy or whatever just for doing what they’re supposed to do. Instill a love for a job well done…and then watch them come up and ask if anything else needs to be done. You say yes, you need to go play outside and have fun. There little dude, there’s your reward.

You cannot help people permanently by doing for them, what they could and should do for themselves.

Abraham Lincoln

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Monday Bacon: The Greatest

Posted on November 11, 2013 by tosabarbell

I heard (or rather read) a story the other day from a friend of mine making one of her weekly treks to JoAnn Fabrics last weekend. It seems they were giving veterans a 10% discount on purchases in honor of Veterans day. A man and his wife stepped up to the cashier, he wearing his Vietnam Veteran cap and hands the silly, 50 something year old woman some papers my friend couldn’t see. She then informed the man that he actually needed to provide his discharge papers in order to receive the discount.

Ahhhhhhh…huh?

Soooo, let me get my head around this. Some woman in her (at least late 40’s or) 50’s, who SHOULD be old enough to understand the time frame of the Vietnam war demanded DISCHARGE papers in order to avoid giving a dollar back to the couple for their purchases? A dollar? A dollar. Huh? Hey JoAnn Fabrics? Fok off.

While an employee in his 20’s ran up and saved the day and allowed the discount, clearly there was some sort of training issue where this woman believed she could harass a veteran in efforts to guard JoAnn Fabrics treasures in the form of a dollar. Fuktard.

And so it goes for our Greatest. Small, seemingly inconsequential digs like silly cashiers. And not so silly digs like the very Government our Greatest served taking the time and effort of putting up barriers and cheap police tape to keep them out of their own Memorial. Yes, this still pisses me off. No, I haven’t forgotten just because someone later was able to talk the white house into not doing this (duh.) It was nasty, and shitty, but most of all…you disrespected our Greatest. Of the 400 million Government offices that could have been closed down and actually stay closed, you shut out the good people who’ve served and are barely able to make it to Washington. Hey Washington? You suck.

There are many reasons these days why people sign up to serve in the military. Patriotism, career opportunities, family history, or just trying to stay off of a troubled path that the structure of the military can provide. We’re thankful for all of you. We hope you are on the receiving end of respect and gratitude from those around you. We are thankful for the loyal families who allow you to serve stress free as they keep your homes running like a finely tuned machine in your absence.

We wish you peace as you come home to deal with the experience of war. I’d advise staying away from Milwaukee JoAnn Fabric stores.  Just sayin’.

I think of many I know and love who have served or are serving in various areas of the military. Of course my pilots,  especially Howie in Afghanistan; Dobbs in Korea. Many veterans in the throwing and strength world, including PJ’s (who I’ve been told by certain female fighter pilots are the only acceptable badass kind of man for them;) But my Greatest? My uncle Dennis, a Vietnam Veteran who came home to an America that was pissed at HIM for serving and came out on the other side with strength, valor, and the adoration of his family. He’s my hero.

My Uncle and Auntie wrapped up a recent Scotland trip with a stop in France with friends and visited the Normandy Cemetery and Memorial. Over 9000 Greatest are laid to rest here and over 1500 missing are remembered.

That picture represents a small portion of veterans of our wars who have never made it home; whose remains are long gone and unaccounted for; whose family trees have stopped sprouting and are no longer around to remember…this is your day.

Thank you.

Loyalty to country ALWAYS. Loyalty to government, when it deserves it.

Mark Twain

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