What are you out to prove?

I was recently asked a question that surprised me. It surprised me because it brought something out that I hadn’t really thought of. It also pissed me off because of the rude delivery, but hey, I got something out of it. A blog post. So touché’.

It was unexpected because I hadn’t asked myself the question:

“What are you out to prove anyway?”

The question was preceded by “How much weight have you lost on this ‘program’?” When I responded with what I’ve lost (40 some odd pounds thank you very much), the bounce back question was:

“So was that your goal? Why would you want to lose any more?”

Bitch please.

First off, where I’m at, isn’t my goal. Ironically, I haven’t set one. I’ll post on that next week.

Secondly, someone ELSE’s idea of what I should be satisfied with has no influence whatsoever on where I’m going or how much farther I will go.

Being over the one sided conversation and glaring that I was getting at that point, I just responded that I was still working on what I wanted to work towards and I wasn’t sure how much farther I’d go. With a ‘You’re crazy’, she turned and left. But she left me with a great question.

What AM I out to prove?

So much. More then I realized. My end answer is, ‘What ISNT there to prove?’

I’m proving to myself that I can succeed in something that I consider harder then anything I’ve ever done.

Consistency. I’m proving to myself that I can overcome the patterns that I know exist in myself. Boredom, the sixty day sack (two months always seems to be the tell for me in regards to whether I’m sticking to something or if I’m over it). Creating a life altering pattern instead of just running with a trend.

Kicking excuses. Now, I’m not a big excuse person, but, I am human. I have moments when I’m tired, not feeling it, have other options/choices, and those things bring me internal struggle just like everyone else. So I work to prove to myself that I can continue to overcome those things.

My body. I’m out to prove so much when it comes to my body. That everyone who said “Well, that’s just how your body is”, was wrong. To myself, in the moments when I accepted that; that I was wrong. To prove that I have control over my shape, my health and my fitness levels. All of it.

There are so many other things, and really, aren’t we all, always trying to prove something? If not to others, to ourselves.

So what are you trying to prove?

One Month

I haven’t disappeared. I’ve just been working on a really long and in depth post. It’s turning into a bit of a Chupacabra to be exact. If you don’t know what that is, look it up, or click on the tag at the bottom of the post, it’s pretty nasty.

So I bring you an easy post. My one month update when I’m almost at my two month mark. How else am I supposed to keep you in suspense? And, some photos of my ‘wounds’. In one month, I’ve measured down 22 inches and almost 30 lbs. I’m proud, but there’s a long way to go, so I’ll stay on point, and work harder.

These are pics from a disagreement between myself an a 50lb kettle bell, first month aches and pains, post workout sweat showers, my one month comparison pic, a tube snapping me in the ass and then the face. No, there will be no ass picture, but yes, there was a bruise. I hope to have my long post to you before the end of the week.

What’s in a name?

I’ve gotten a surprisingly large number of inquiries about where I got the name for my blog.  Apparently no 80’s babies or Crossfitters are reading.

One of the great movies of ‘my time’ (my awesome, super cool, never replicated time), was Adventures in Babysitting.  Cheesy, funny, totally 80’s kind of kid filled movie. Lots of twists and turns and never knowing what might happen next. A lot like this path I’m on.  Check it out if you never have.

The tire flipping portion is a little more of a story.

I’ve been Crossfitting off and on for about three years now.  From the moment I started, the one thing I’ve looked forward to doing, is flipping that big ol’ tire.  In three years, I didn’t get to flip one stinkin’ tire.  

Not one.  

I’m not sure why this part of it all appealed to me so much, but it was the brass ring for me so to speak. I watched it happen around me. My wife got to flip it. The big ones, the smaller ones. The new ones, the old ratty ones. I’d have to listen to everyone’s glorious stories about flipping tires and popping achilles tendons and, regardless, how great that damned tire was.

I work weekends, so I’d miss all of the Team tire flipping. Lots of flipping going on, but none for me.

Fast forward to four weeks ago.  I was in the third week of my new program.  As you walk into the front door of my training studio, if you look to your left, there it is.  

The big ol’ tire.  

I’ve seen you tire.  

I noticed you right away.

Still unsure if it would ever by my turn to flip you. You know. Back and forth. Over and over.

Then it happened. I showed up, and you were outside. Flat on your side in all of your black, rubbery goodness.

I still wasn’t sure if I’d get to use you, but, mid workout, I got the word.

“Go flip that shit”

YES!!!!

And I did. For two rounds. I flipped that shit. It was heavy, and awesome. Everything I had built up in my mind.

So, desire fulfilled.

A total bonus in my workout, and complete satisfaction.

And there you have the ‘Tire Flipping’ part of the name of this blog.

So, go watch that great movie, and flip something big, round, black and made of rubber.

That’s shaped like a tire.