Hardest WOD Ever

I wanted a natural birth plan because I knew it was the right decision for me. I know everyone is different and I applaud everyone’s birth plans because birth is so hard no matter what your plan is. I do not want to try to convince anyone what they should do, I just want to share my story.

With my goal of a natural birth plan, my husband and I took the Bradley class. I understood the importance of being flexible when birth does not go as planned, but I just wanted to prepare myself as well as I could. My husband was convinced he wanted me to get an epidural but changed his mind and was on board with the natural birth as soon as we took our first Bradley class. We loved learning about the natural biology behind birth and were surprised by how much standard practices differed from evidence based birthing practices.

I shared my plan with my initial provider and this provider made me feel guilty for wanting any kind of plan at all.  This initial provider instructed me that I was not a patient to have a plan, I was a patient so that I could have a healthy baby, as if my plan was compromising that. We immediately switched to the top ranked natural birth provider in our area and hired a doula. I felt fully comfortable with our birth team from then on.

On July 4, I was having some discomfort in my lower belly throughout the day. At midnight on July 5, my water broke. I was sound asleep but it felt like my little one karate kicked the water out and it instantly woke me up. I texted my doula and tried to fall back asleep because I knew it could be a while before contractions started. Sleep did not happen and contractions progressed. We called our doctor and I reached a contraction pattern consistent with what is a good indicator to go to the hospital (3:1:1). We made the trip and waited in triage. The triage nurse found I was only 2 cm and my contractions slowed drastically. Inside I was defeated and felt like the baby was never coming. However, our Bradley class prepared me for this situation so I just accepted it. The hospital did not want to send us home because my water broke and frankly I was glad because the car ride was uncomfortable.

Upon settling in our room, my contractions consistently progressed. My husband did phenomenal with doing whatever he could to keep me comfortable, which I know was a challenge because I did not want to be touched. Our doula was fantastic in gently suggesting positions to help move things along appropriately. Alternating between active and resting positions was key to making my 11 hour labor seem to go by relatively quickly. This was the main reason I knew I did not want an epidural, because I cannot stay in one position – especially when I’m uncomfortable.

The contractions kept getting worse and worse. The type of pain is indescribable and like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I kept worrying that if it got much worse, I wasn’t going to be able to handle it. I thought to myself that an epidural would be nice but the idea of staying still sounded awful. It never got much worse at once. It got slowly worse just little by little, which made it doable. I knew I wanted to labor in the tub, but our doula said that this could slow active labor. We waited until I was extremely uncomfortable and begging for the tub.

Once I got in the water, the contractions felt different and much more manageable, but they also spaced out significantly. I was happy for the break, but worried things would plateau if I stayed much longer. Our doula convinced me to get out. Immediately, contractions picked up and I was at the point of crying with each one. I was fighting the nurse who had to hook up the fetal monitors. This nurse had been in and out the entire time for monitoring and by this point suggested she check my progress. I had withheld all exams since I was checked at 2 cm in triage because I couldn’t bear any more disappointment. To our surprise, I was a full 10 cm at this check and ready to start pushing, even though my body didn’t realize it yet.

Pushing was the worst part. I literally did not think I was going to be able to get our daughter out because the pain was so intense. I asked my birth team if I could just do nothing and let her fall out. They were all so supportive in convincing me that I could do it. Another reason why I did not want an epidural was so that I could control my own body during pushing. I did exactly that. Once I was able to push into contractions, I could tell exactly when and how long to push. I could also tell exactly where my baby was, which was mentally comforting (although physically painful). When she arrived, I was overwhelmed with disbelief. I did it. I did it with the support of an awesome team – my husband, our doula, our doctor, and the nurses. If I had to do it all over again, I would do it exactly the same. Most importantly, our baby girl was completely healthy. I achieved my goal and experienced the happiest moment of my entire life.

The Next Right Step

Excerpt from Plain Dealer Columnist Regina Brettʼs new book “God Never Blinks”

Lesson 2: When in Doubt, Just Take the Next Right Step.

 

 My life used to be like that game of freeze tag we played as kids. Once tagged, you had to freeze in the position you were in. Whenever something happened, I'd freeze like a statue, too afraid of moving the wrong way, of making the wrong decision.

The problem is, if you stand still too long, that's your decision.

There's a moment in the special “A Charlie Brown Christmas” where Charlie Brown stops to see Lucy, the 5-cent psychiatrist. Lucy drills him: “Are you afraid of responsibility?

If you are, then you have hypengyophobia.”
Charlie Brown answers, "I don't think that's quite it.”
"How about cats? If you're afraid of cats, you have ailurophasia.”
"Well, sort of, but I'm not sure.”
“Are you afraid of staircases? If you are, then you have climacophobia. Maybe you have thalassophobia. This is fear of the ocean, or gephyrophobia, which is the fear of crossing bridges. Or maybe you have pantophobia. Do you think you have pantophobia?"
"What's pantophobia?"

"The fear of everything," she says.

"THAT'S IT!" Charlie Brown screams

That's me.

I stumbled through high school using alcohol as my compass. I went to college in my back yard because I couldn't imagine all the steps it would take to apply and get accepted and leave home and live in a dorm at a college outside Ravenna, Ohio.

I rode a bus six miles every day from Ravenna to Kent, not because Kent State University was a good, solid, affordable state school, which it was, but because I couldn't imagine how to make the leap and move away to college like my three older sisters and brother did. They went off to Ohio State University, one of the biggest colleges in the country. At Kent, my world stayed small and safe. I ate in the cafeteria with people from my high school.

A year or two into college, I flunked chemistry. It got too hard, so I quit going to class. I changed my major three times. Then I got pregnant at 21 and dropped out of school. I quit drinking for good but stumbled through jobs that weren't right for me. A traffic clerk. A legal secretary. An office manager. A funeral home assistant picking up dead bodies.

What would I do with my life? The future overwhelmed me. Then one day a friend suggested this: just do the next right thing.

That's it?

I can do that.


Usually we know the next step to take but it's so small we don't see it because our vision is focused too far ahead and all we can see is a giant, scary leap instead of a small, simple step. So we wait. And wait. And wait, as if the Master Plan will be revealed in a massive blueprint rolled out like a red carpet at our feet.

Even if it were, we'd be too scared to step onto it.

I wanted to finish college, wanted a career I loved instead of a job I endured, but what should I major in? How would I pay for it? What job would it lead to? There were so many unanswered questions.

One day my mom revealed the next right step. "Just get a course catalog," she suggested.

That's it?

I can do that. So I got the catalog. Then I opened it up. Then I skimmed the pages with a highlighter and marked classes I'd like to take solely because they looked interesting, not because I had to earn a degree in something.

I sat on the floor in the living room flipping page after page. At first, like a kid whose favorite class is recess, I marked recreation classes - horseback riding, hiking and backpacking. Then a couple of psychology and art classes. Then a slew of English classes. I turned every, single page, reading every course description until I found a treasure trove. Newswriting. Reporting. Magazine writing. Feature writing. Wow. I went all the way from anthropology to zoology. Finished, flipped back and looked at what courses got the most highlights.

Writing.

So I took one writing class. Then another. Then another.

 When in doubt, do the next right thing. It's usually something quite small. As

 E.L. Doctorow said, writing a book is like driving a car at night. "You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way."

That philosophy applies to life, too. The headlights on my car shine 350 feet, but even with that much light, I can travel all the way to California. I need to see only enough light to get moving.

I graduated with a journalism degree from Kent State when I turned 30. Ten years later, I got my master's degree in religious studies from John Carroll University. I never set out to get a master's degree. If I had counted the years (five), the cost (thousands), and the time in the classroom, doing homework, doing research (late evenings, lunch hours, weekends), I never would have mailed that first tuition check.

I just took one class, then another and another, and one day I was done.

It was like that raising my daughter. I never dreamed I'd be a single parent for all 18 years of her childhood. My daughter finished high school the same month I got my master's degree. I'm glad I didn't know when I gave birth to her at 21 what it would cost in terms of time, money and sacrifice to bring her to that graduation day.

Every so often some expert calculates how much it costs to raise a child. It's in the six-figure range. The money doesn't scare would-be parents away, but if someone calculated all the time and energy it took to raise a child, the human race would become extinct.

The secret to success, to parenting, to life, is to not count up the cost. Don't focus on all the steps it will take. Don't stare into the abyss at the giant leap it will take.

That view will keep you from taking the next small step.

If you want to lose 40 pounds, you order salad instead of fries. If you want to be a better friend, you take the phone call instead of screening it. If you want to write a novel, you sit down and write a single paragraph.

It’s scary to make major changes, but we usually have enough courage to take the next right step. One small step and then another. That’s what it takes to raise a child, to get a degree, to write a book, to do whatever it is your heart desires.

What’s your next right step? Whatever it is, take it.

 

Fitness for all

I want to help free people from the physical and mental obstacles to their own fitness. I realize that not everyone will become dedicated competitors, but I just want them to have the opportunity to move more and feel better. It’s most exciting to see people make improvements and exceed all expectations. It doesn’t matter what level they start at, because the real heroes are the ones who put the work in every day and start to truly believe in themselves. So many people just sit on the sidelines and use previous/perceived injuries or limitations as an excuse. There’s always something you can do. It might not be as much as the person next to you, but doing what you can always beats not showing up. Don’t let your ego hold you back. Fitness is not a hobby, it’s a lifestyle. Once you rank physical activity among the list of necessities like eating, sleeping, and breathing…you will start to get it.

How and Why to do The CrossFit Games Open

Every year when the Open rolls around, I hear a bunch of excuses for why people hate it and aren’t doing it. I’m here to tell you that all of your excuses are selfish. How do I know that? Because that little selfish part of me also hates the Open. I hate not winning everything, I hate not beating so-and-so, I hate scoring lower than I wanted to, and I hate being really nervous every week for 5 weeks straight. All of those feelings are selfish and hide what the Open is really about.

The Open is about our CrossFit community coming together and people becoming better versions of themselves. These things aren’t measured by rank on the leaderboard, but by the determination in our hearts. So stop thinking that everything is about your scores and embrace the Open for what it should be. More info on the Open here: http://games.crossfit.com/about-the-games/the-open

So what is your excuse?

I am new to CrossFit, so I haven’t really mastered it yet.

The Open is a fantastic way to incorporate yourself into the community at our gym. You will have the full support of every single member at Calibrated because we all want to see you succeed. Don’t worry if you still don’t have your first double under, pull up, handstand push up, muscle up, etc. You can still submit a scaled score for that workout. Plus if you’re close to getting a skill, an Open workout may be just the right incentive to finally achieve your goal.  

I hate burpees, etc.

Everyone hates at least one movement. Commiserate with your fellow gym members and make that movement suck just a little less. Use the Open as an opportunity to get better at your least favorite movement(s). Maybe you hate burpees, but love thrusters. Inspire that person who hates thrusters to be better. 

I’m not a competitive person.

Okay, I understand, competing is not your thing. What about supporting, inspiring, celebrating - do any of those things catch your fancy? Then support our community, support another gym member who really wants to do the Open, but is a little timid. If they see you back out, it’ll be easy for them to back out too. Inspire people at our gym, or inspire your family/friends who want to get into shape. Showing people that you care about being fit and healthy goes a long way. I love the Open because I am continually inspired by our own members. Their motivation is contagious. Finally, celebrate your fitness together as a gym. Life is too short not to celebrate. Plus, we have an awesome cookout at the end of the Open to celebrate everyone’s hard work.

I hate performing in front of people, I get too nervous.

During the Open you aren’t performing in front of people, you’re performing WITH people. Stop getting inside your own head and thinking this is all about you. Everyone at Calibrated is on the same team and we all want to perform well as a gym. Think of it as a group effort and feed off of the energy of your fellow teammates, you’d be surprised to see what a little adrenaline can do when directed properly.

I’ll be embarrassed if I do poorly on a workout and I don’t want everyone to know.

I have a hard time remembering my own scores on Open workouts, let alone anyone else’s. No one is going to judge you as a person based on your scores in the Open. If they do, they are a troll and don’t deserve your concern.

I hate falling short of my goals and being disappointed.

The Open is the biggest platform imaginable for measuring your progress year-to-year. If you don’t participate, then how do you even realize your goals on a large scale? I’ve competed in the Open every single year since it first began. And in those 5 years and 25+ Open workouts, I can say that I am 100% satisfied with my performance on 2 workouts at most…okay honestly, only 90-95% satisfied. So I’ve fallen short of my goals on 25/25 of the Open workouts that I’ve done? NO! Truth is, I’ve learned something about myself on 25/25 workouts. I’ve made myself a better athlete and a better person through doing those workouts. I use the Open as an opportunity to clearly define my goals. If I fall a little short of a few of them in the process, that experience just makes me better.

I won’t do as well as I did last year.

The Open is the perfect motivation for getting where you want to be. Sure it will suck seeing your name further down the leaderboard, but you’re going to have to eat that piece of humble pie and move on. Make this year your new starting point and use it as inspiration to work harder for next year. Maybe your placing won’t be as good as previous years, but use this year to focus on things besides placing, for example: having fun!

I have no realistic chance of making it to Regionals, so why bother?

This is my favorite excuse of all. According to the CrossFit Games website “In 2015, the top 0.303% of men and 0.215% of women in the Open were invited to Regionals.” So you’re saying that over 99% of the 260,000+ people that participated in the Open last year were just wasting their time? Maybe I should go tell all of the children that play youth sports to just quit now because they have <1% chance of going pro or making it to the Olympics. Youth sports build an invaluable amount of character. Doing the CrossFit Open builds an invaluable amount of character. Don’t believe me? Give yourself one goal this year: to be selfless enough to participate in the Open without focusing on just you and your scores. Participate in the Open to make yourself try harder, to set new goals, to be a better teammate, to inspire someone, and to build our community of fitness.

I want to participate but I am seriously injured.

Ok fine, this is the only acceptable excuse. Take the judges’ course and help judge your fellow Calibrated members! To everyone else who isn’t injured, don’t take your fitness for granted. Do the Open for your friends who can’t.

Photo credit: Prince Swaray

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