Month: September 2018

Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the sexiest lifter of all?

Why are there mirrors in the gym? Many would say that mirrors provide feedback on form. But do they? I often see individuals lifting, while starring at themselves in the mirror, and continue to lift with incorrect form. So what purpose do mirrors serve in the gym? I believe that mirrors only serve one purpose in the gym: to feed ego.

One of the ways ego rears its beautiful and perfect head is by avoiding weakness.  There are ten components of fitness: cardiovascular endurance, stamina, strength, flexibility, power, speed, coordination, agility, balance, and accuracy. And when you choose to avoid one of those components because you are “bad” at it, you are choosing to not be the best version of yourself. Being “bad” at something just means its an area of discomfort and nobody wants to be uncomfortable. Anything can improve through practice, training, and hard work. Choose those areas that you don’t immediately excel at and work on them. I am just as guilty of this as the next person. I know what areas I excel at: power and strength, so I like to cherry pick the short workouts that involve heavy lifting. I absolutely HATE doing workouts that involve highly technical gymnastic movements, because I have told myself that I am “bad” at anything that involves accuracy and balance.

The truth is, I let my ego take the driver’s seat because I don’t want to look “weak” or “stupid” in the gym. When in reality, it would take 10 minutes during a warm up or cool down and do some type of accuracy or balance drills. I could even do these movements in an actual workout. However, I get so wrapped up in wanting to beat the clock or the person next to me; I decide to scale or replace movements to ones that I can excel at. And I simply do it to feed my ego. To tell myself, I finished this workout in XXX amount of time. I give myself a high five and tell myself that I am the fittest human alive. In reality, I didn’t improve my fitness in the slightest, because I didn’t want to look foolish. I wanted to look strong and fit and tough. I wanted that picture for instagram.

Good ole’ instagram, or as a friend of mine calls it instaglam, which is an accurate description. Instagram, snapchat, facebook, its’ always our highlight reel. It glamorous to post your PR deadlift or clean, your first hand stand pushup, or your first ring muscle ups. CELEBRATE IT!!!! that is AMAZING! POST IT! I post my PRs ALL THE TIME! I try and film myself at least once every few weeks, just to get some sweet shots of me doing cool fitness stuff. It’s fun and there is nothing wrong with it. But be honest about it.

Two years ago, right before the CF games, Kara Sanders (Webb) posted a compilation video, on instagram, of her failing lifts and movements. This was something that really stuck with me, because that is reality. When facing new challenges, you are going to fail a lot more than you are going to succeed. Failure breeds success. I failed my first 7 attempts at a 300lb deadlift, and after I was only able to hit it 2/5 attempts spread across several weeks. The first time you attempt a PR lift or a movement, you may not get it. It may takes, weeks, months, or even years. Ego will tell you that you need to impress others, and you will want to stay at sub-par weights and movements. Ego will tell you to take the short cuts, so you can have a cool picture, instead of being patient and taking time to do the work. Be real and be honest. Would you still be happy with a PR if you didn’t get to post it? Would you still be happy with your results if no one commented on them?  Are you willing to post the non-glamorous drill work? Are you willing to post the failures?

Again, I am just as guilty at the next person. There is no greater feeling than posting a PR or posting a sweaty selfie and getting likes and comments about how hard I am working or how “inspiring” I am. But when I take a step back, all I am looking for is validation. I am more focused on being sure that others’ perceive me as hard working, successful, and inspiring, than I am about focusing on the process of self improvement. I don’t want to show individuals the vulnerability that I feel when I fail a PR attempt or even failing a weight that I can hit 10/10 times and am just having an off day. I want the status and the recognition. And when I focus on the status and the recognition, I am putting out a fake image of what fitness is.

Fitness is not about constant success. Fitness is not about recognition. Fitness is not about attention. It’s about getting better. Getting better physically, mentally, and emotionally. It is about enduring pain, pushing past your limits, suffering in silence, and failing. One of the many things I tell myself when I am in the middle of a workout is “Get ugly.” Don’t worry about what I look like or how others’ perceive me. Work hard, sweat, bleed, cry. Do it for me

Let’s take this out of the gym. What am I avoiding in life because I’m “bad” at it? I have to ask, am I ACTUALLY bad at it, or am I just unwilling to put the work and the time it takes to improve? Do I do things because they will make me or the world a better, even if it means that I won’t get any recognition or status? Am I real in admitting failures? Am I learning from my failures? Or are am I only focused on showing people a perfect person?

So I dare you, whatever it is in life: gym, work, family, business. Get ugly about it. Kill your ego, and do what it takes to get better.

 

 

Two cups of coffee on the counter. One black. One with cream. My mom and I started having morning coffee together when I was in college and would come home for the weekends. This has been a continued practice as a young adult, and it’s become my favorite part of going home. Not just because coffee is involved, but because of the conversations that happen at that table. I have told my mom several times that she should write a book. And she doesn’t think I am serious. But I am. So this post is some of the many chapters that my mom’s book should include. If she won’t write the book, then I will.

Chapter 1: “I’m not packing air people”

My mom is a professional mover. My mom raised four kids. Think about that, we all turned 18 and moved to college. So she moved us four kids to college. Then out of college we got jobs and moved other places. When I was between the ages of 18-23, my mom helped me move four times.  My mom has such a reputation that she gets volunteered to help strangers move. My mom sees a U-haul and follows it wherever it goes, just assuming she is supposed to help. She has moved people across the state, to new houses, to old houses, to apartments, to dorm rooms. While each move is different, there is always one consistent theme,”I am not packing air, people.”

And what does she mean by that. Basically all of the space in your boxes and moving totes should be taken up with something and not air. One time, I had 2 kitchen boxes, one with pots and pans and one with cooking utensils. Just to give you a picture, box 1:  pots and pans were stacked into each other with the lids on the sides of the bos.  Box 2: the utensils were in trays from the drawers stacked on top of each others and then a big round utensil container on top. Me, a mere mortal packer, thought that these two boxes were packed pretty tactfully. But my mother, The Almighty Packer, took one look at that and said “I am not packing air people.” She put the trays of silverware and knives on the bottom, put the utensils into the pots, lined the sides of the box with the lids, and still had room to fit four into the  box…….And then I showed her my box of clothes hangers.

When I go home, and my mom and I have our morning coffee. I like to ask who she has helped move that week. And she goes into some story about reducing someone’s laughable 6 boxes of bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen supplies down to half a box. While everyone in my family jokes about my mom’s “zero air policy.” There is an important lesson to be learned. Don’t be a waste of space. You have gifts and talents that God gave you. Use them. I truly believe that God gave my mom a gift of organization and an uncanny ability to fit things into boxes. And she uses this to bless others. Moving can be stressful, and my mom doesn’t necessarily “love” moving others. But for her it’s an opportunity to bless others by lending a helping hand whenever, wherever, and however she can. We cloud our own thinking into “talents and gifts” having to be music or sports or public speaking. God may have given you a talent to sweep floors. Don’t be a waste of space and keep your well swept floors to yourself. Go bless someone and sweep their floor. And my mom will be there to show you how to best store your broom to take up the least amount of space as possible.

Chapter 2: “Ice-cream fixes everything”

Mom’s know a lot of things. I’m pretty sure that once a woman becomes a mother, some sort of data update happens and all of the knowledge of the world downloads into her brain. One of the pieces of data that has downloaded into my mom’s brain is a GPS system that finds the nearest Culver’s. Growing up, we had ice cream after a day at the pool, after a day trip to Fargo or Bismarck, or after a school Christmas concert. A sweet treat to top off the day.

Growing up, I got hurt a lot. Mostly secondary to the abuse of my older siblings, definitely never ever my own fault. My mom was always there to provide  physical or emotional comfort. Just an few example of the comfort my mom provided me.

(Back story: the day before, I watched my dad get out of the pickup while it was just coming to a stop, so it was just barely moving when my dad got out. It was the coolest thing that my 4-year-old eyes had ever seen. My dad basically jumped out of a moving vehicle).

My older siblings were at school and my mom brought me with to run errands in town. The day was sure to end with ice cream and Stop and Go. The errands were done and we had just started pulling into Stop and Go. The pickup was still moving “relatively” fast, and I decided that I would be cool, like my dad, and get out of the moving vehicle. I was suddenly hanging onto the door handle for dear life with my legs being drug behind me in the parking lot. My mom slammed the brakes. Put the pickup in park and picked me up off the ground. She hugged me and tried to calm down the dramatic 4-year-old that I was (and still am). My mom drove us home and I cried the entire 16 mile drive home. When we got home, my mom cleaned up my road rash and finally calmed me down. When I had finally calmed down, I was a little upset that I didn’t get ice cream. But my mom came in clutch and gave me a popsicle. And it was all better.

As I grew into those awesome teen years, the “ice-cream fixes everything” continued. Clothes shopping trips to Fargo were mostly just me whispering mean things about my mom under my breath, through gritted teeth. I rolled my eyes so much that I gave myself vertigo. But regardless of what happened during the day. We still got ice cream, usually at Culver’s, before we left for home. On my way home, the healing qualities of the ice-cream became apparent. My eyes suddenly stayed in place and my I was able to speak to my mom at a normal volume. Weird…..

I know my mom will read this and say “I just wanted ice-cream for myself.” But there is a lesson in ending the day, especially the hard days, with ice-cream. There is always a positive to everyday. So while I was drug down the road at 40 mph at 4-years-old there was still a positive to that day. And while my mom totally ruined my freshman year of high school by not buying the super-low-rise jeans for me, there was still a positive ending to that day.  Find the positive part of everyday, even the hard ones. And if you have to, take a play from my mom’s book, and end the day with ice-cream. It fixes everything by becoming an automatic positive to your day.

Chapter 3: “Chotchkies”

The last few years, my mom has begun removing “chotchkies” from her home. For those of you who don’t know chotchkies are “a decorative knick-knack with little or no purpose.” My mom’s anti-chotchkie life style started in 2001 when she went to El Salvador on her first missions trip.  Each year, following, there were less and less figurines and decorations on our shelves and walls.

One morning, I was having coffee with my mom, and she said something about her chotchkie free policy. “When the Lord calls me to Africa to build an orphanage, I need to be ready to go as soon as possible.” This has become my mom’s mindset regarding stuff in the last several years. Especially since she got bit by the backpacking bug.  For one week, everything she needs will fit into a backpack that she will carry on her back. (Luckily my bug repellent is stronger than hers).

My parents recently moved off of the farm to town into the house my grandma lived in. The shelves and walls have minimal stuff on them. However, my mom has been filling up the house. Almost weekly, she invites people over for Sunday lunch. The neighbor kids come over to help her in the yard. My mom has moved from filling her house with stuff to filling her house with people. When you go to someone’s house, do you remember what is on their walls or do you remember the experience? My mom has really tapped into this mindset. She knows that how she makes people feel and the experience she provides at her house is paramount to what is on her walls or shelves. One of the many ways, we should all be more like Vickie Gussiaas, fill our lives with people and experiences, not stuff. Get rid of the chotchkies, they just take up space when you move.