"In WOD We Trust"

I realize this is another post about exercise but I'm unemployed, so that's what's happening in my life.

CrossFit is maybe my favorite form of exercise and it's not just due to the physical work (which is awesome and hard). It's my favorite because you show up, and everyone's learned your name because they took three seconds to ask you what it was and then remembered. Because you cheer for the last person working, not the first person finished. Because there's always room for improvement and everyday you can get stronger. Because it doesn't discriminate. Because the person next to you is also doing the hardest workout of their life. 

If you've never taken one of these classes, the first thing I want to say is don't be scared. When I first showed up, I was terrified. Your eyes immediately go to the guy who's doing like 100 pull ups and the girl walking on her hands. But these people have been working their asses off to get there and you will too. You can too.

It all starts with something called On Ramp. It's two classes of instruction, so when someone says "We're doing power cleans today," you know what that means. (I still didn't know what that meant because they all talk in a bizarre code.) No one wants you to get hurt and no one wants you to run away.

Regardless of all their prep, I got to my first class, feeling like I was going to throw up, looked at the workout, which is always written on the whiteboard, and it was gibberish. I swear, they have developed their own language full of acronyms and short hand that is indecipherable. I could have asked someone, but that wasn't going to happen. Luckily, the coaches appeared familiar with my look of confusion and doom and came up to me immediately after the explanation to see where I needed help.

I needed help everywhere. Nothing made sense. I didn't know how much to lift or if I could lift anything. What's a jerk? And how many burpees? You're saying I climb the rope? And then pull ups? Push ups too? A handstand for how long?

The coach explains scaling, which is altering the work out slightly so it's a challenge but doable. Then you learn almost everyone there is scaling. And you do what you can - which is more than you thought. And you come back tomorrow.

Even now, there's always a moment of looking at the WOD (work out of the day) where you think the coaches are being intentionally mean. And rude. And crazy. But then you look at the people standing next to you, smile because you know you're all going to do it anyway, and get started.

There are so many jokes about how people who do CrossFit can't stop talking about CrossFit. It's true. This is a real stereotype and now I'm one of the worst ones because I'm blogging about it. But it's addictive. Couldn't climb that rope before? You can now. Did you work on your muscle up today? I bet you're getting closer. Did you see her kill those pistols? Nice work! 

You're sore every day, and if not you're probably doing it wrong, but it's a good sore. You've earned it by working really hard and using muscles you thought were just for show.

CrossFit is intense and challenging but it's the most fun I've ever had working out because you're just trying to do better than the day before. Everyone there wants you to kill it, and you're cheering for them too. It may be individual work outs, but when you walk into that gym, you're part of a team.

"Everything's A Copy Of A Copy Of A Copy"

I realize I've only written three posts, well four including this one, but none of them are about insomnia! Insomnia wasn't even on my list of ideas for blog posts.

That's insanity.

If you've ever spoken to me for longer than... 20 minutes, you'd know this was insanity. Pure and true.

As you'll be able to note by the time this is posted, I'm in a bout of it now. Though it's only 12:16am at this precise moment, so that's not too bad.

Bad is watching the sunrise, bad is laying down and knowing immediately that you aren't going to sleep, bad is doing everything right - not eating right before bed, not staring at a screen, not taking a hot shower, not reading with a bright light, taking melatonin (or even ambient) - and still not even having an ounce of luck with the whole sleeping situation.

This isn't every night of course. Sometimes I can sleep every night for a couple weeks. Though never much longer than that. And even now that seems like a really long time to go without a restless night.

Those people out there who say their head hits the pillow and they don't know how long it takes them to fall asleep because it happens so fast... you are just... a lucky little... good for you or something else nice.

That has never happened to me. 

I mean, I can fall asleep in the car, and be like asleep asleep, like REM level sleep, basically crawl to my bed in the dark, lay down, and then remain awake for 3-4 hours.

Whaaaaaaat, you say.

Yes, I know. It's true.

I used to think it was in my head. All of it. Which I guess it is, but I mean that I could control it. I can't. I can accept it. Make peace with it. Get better at running on 2 hours a night, but I can't harness it and make it succumb to my insistent whims to sleep for 8 hours straight.

Shockingly, this also means I can't nap. I had a roommate (amazing roommate FYI, looking at you TayTay - no one calls her that but she likes it and I'm loop-ily tired, so there you go) who napped like a boss. We'd put on a show and then she'd be out in roughly 7 minutes. And then I'd pause the show and watch another show so that when she woke up, we could resume the first show. 

It's reasons like this that I've watched so much TV.

Spend middle school getting 4 hours a night, might be painful, but don't worry because you can learn all the lines in over 80 hours of Friends. You'll also become very familiar with life in the OC as well as Dillon, TX. (This is all depending on what's popular/available at the time of your insomnia I suppose because I also watched Bones, House, Parenthood, and numerous Syfy shows no one has heard of.)

Needless to say, it's a constant struggle. First world, but a struggle all the same. And I don't think I even have it that bad in the grand scheme of things. Sure there are especially rude spells like freshman year of college where I was running on literally 18-24 hours a week. A week!

I have no conclusion other than insomnia sucks and it's real and you should have sympathy for those who have it.

My other sleeping issues, like not tolerating the sound of deep breathing or a ticking clock or any kind of blinking light, those you can be exasperated by. Even I'm exasperated by them.

I can be exasperating.

It's not even like I'm up thinking. Sometimes I'm up thinking. Sometimes I'm up writing. But sometimes, most of the time, I'm just wanting to sleep. I'm trying to relax every body part one by one and breathe in... then breathe out. I allow my mind to wander and then bringing my focus to my shoulder and releasing all that tension. Then my arm, then my other shoulder, other arm, onto the legs!

I promise I try.

I try all the things. And sometimes they work. And sometimes they don't. And I carry on, as my fellow insomniacs do, because the alternative is... nothing actually - there is no alternative. I'm not even being strong, just out of other options.

Well, I'm being a little strong. I'm part badass.

You try getting through college watching the sun rise 50% of the time... You probably did, but it was for different reasons so I reject it.

I'm too tired to end this cleverly, so I'll just stop.

**The title of this post is a quote from Fight Club about insomnia. I'm really impressed if you knew that already... mostly because I didn't. I googled it.

"85,000 Different Reasons"

Going to a concert is weird when you think about it. I love them, but they're weird.

And there's such a random collection of people there. It's never all one type of person. Which makes sense of course, but is always a surprise to me. It's usually all ages from all walks of life and they just want to stand in a large crowd and watch and listen to the same thing.

There's this awesome quote from Dave Grohl:

And it's true. Even the specific time you hear a song could make all the difference. Maybe at one point that love song made you think of your high school sweetheart and now you think of your spouse. Or some song reminded you of a party in college but you recently heard it on the radio and you remembered last night. And then there are those songs that will never stop transporting you to the exact same time and place. They're like a time capsule and you can't escape the power of your memory.

Regardless of what you're feeling, you're not feeling alone. There are hundreds or thousands of strangers on either side of you feeling something just as strong.

And there's always that one person, young or old, male or female, who is FEELING it. They are singing and they are dancing as if they're alone in their living room. A lot of people are usually laughing at them and they appear to be alone, but they are loving every bit of their life at that moment and isn't that beautiful? I always wonder if they're on E or something... and maybe they are, but they're there and so are you and they aren't hurting anyone so what of it?

I went to a concert recently and this person was a woman. Probably in her 40s and she was wearing a bright green dress that looked very... motherly. I don't know what other word to use. It wasn't conservative necessarily but it was practical with some slight frill. She had a purse with a really short strap under her shoulder that was patterned to look like newspaper, and she was rocking out. Even when a band wasn't on stage and they were just playing random music between acts, she was killing it. So much so that a security guard came over to her and gave her an arm band so she could go into the pit.

She loved being in the pit.

She continued her spastic dancing and sang along to every song with such vigor I couldn't help smiling every time she showed up on the big screen (which was quite often).

Then there are people on the other side of the spectrum that look bored and annoyed. I don't understand that. These seats are expensive... really, all the seats are expensive and you look so unhappy! Were you dragged here? Do you not like music? Are you having a bad day? I guess all of these could be true, but I have a hard time not enjoying myself at a concert. Of course it's more fun when you know some of the words and can sing along, but even when you can't, the energy is infectious. 

And I can never get over that you're watching someone's dream come true on stage. I've worked in entertainment and I know a lot of that can be an act, but there's something in their smile when the crowd sings the lyrics back to them that gets me every time.

There's this awesome clip from a Mumford & Sons concert when the crowd is singing along so loudly, they're almost drowning out the lead singer.

At a concert, this random group of strangers is coming together to experience something interactive and powerful and each for their own reasons.

The whole place is alive and you're reminded that you are too and you're not alone.

"Nah, Imma Stay"

I'm not exactly new to yoga. I've gone to a handful of classes and know some stuff. At least enough to know what downward dog is and know that you breathe a lot. Yet there are so many moments in these classes where I'm thinking, "What? I'm suppose to do...what? What does that mean? Are you insane? Maybe I'll just sit. What do you call that? There's some name for just sitting here so it sounds like I'm still doing yoga when I'm actually just sitting because that thing you're doing looks incredibly dangerous..."

To be fair, I'm usually also thinking, "This is relaxing, and how cool that I'm improving since the last time I came. What did she just say to do? Warrior two? I know what that is! I remember that. Man, I'm learning so much about yoga and myself. And I'm doing it with intention. I don't know what my exact intention is, but I like the idea that I'm working out with purpose."

The more types of exercise I do, the more I realize there's usually a whole extensive theory behind them. Yes, I know I'm a bit behind here, but at least I'm joining the party.

I used to think yoga was just a lot of breathing and meditating and then somehow doing a handstand. As if I could put my hands on the ground, lower my head, and ease my knees on my elbows by simply exhaling and visualizing it. Some more practiced yogis might say this is exactly what you're supposed to do. All that happens for me is I get dizzy, my shoulders get sore, and I fall over. I know, I know, practice, don't compare myself to others, and when my body is ready - it'll tell me.

Yoga also has its own language. Even after attending beginner classes, I didn't know it all but was bored so I moved to the "All Levels" classes. Those are definitely better, but they act as though all their know how is all general knowledge. 

I was at a class in Boston and feeling pretty good about my ability to keep up when the teacher had us get into downward dog then ease forward into a push up position. Easy enough. Everyone knows what a push up is. Then she says, "Now float back into a three legged dog and hold."

...Float to what? I definitely can't float any which way from where I am right now. I'm keeping up, sweetie, but I'm not a cloud. I shan't float.

So I look up and suddenly feel like I'm being attacked by people's feet. The 20 people in front of me have lifted their right leg and leaned into downward dog again with their foot in the air. I'm nearly knocked out by the 6 foot tall man on the mat in front of me (who is also phenomenally more flexible than I am...) before I snap to it and awkwardly shove back into a similar position. Float, my ass.

Then there's the blessed moment where we can work on inversions. I take this time to get into Mountain. That's basically just standing still. I know there is a lot of good that can come from Mountain and it's an important pose and all that, but really I use it because I can't do any inversions. FYI, inversions are upside-down things. I can do no upside-down things. So stand I shall. With intention.

At the end you nap. There's a word for it. But really, you're napping. What is cool is that at the beginning of the class I couldn't lay still for 10 minutes if you paid me, but by the end I'm quite tired and shockingly sweaty from my bending and leaning so I can shavasana all you want.

So even though I think yoga is a little crazy, those people are incredibly strong and graceful and impressive. They're in tune with their bodies and their minds and even though my brain is racing along as I balance in half-moon, it's at least a quiet race... and it's usually winning.

I'll buy all the hype and I'll work on my breathing and I'll listen to my body. You win.

Namaste.

"Things Take Shape Later On"

I've given in and I'm writing a blog. And not just for me because I want to write and blah blah blah. I want everyone to read it and then it should be discovered for how insightful and witty it is and then it should be turned into a show on TBS. 

See? I'm even being reasonable with my daydream... no one watches TBS, it's not like I'm holding out for Comedy Central.

For some background - I'm in my early twenties, live in a suburb of Boston (yes, I'm living at home), and stuck between wanting to be and do something while having no inkling of what that might be.

I'm fairly certain I'm alone in this feeling. Every other twenty something seems to have it completely figured out. With their adorable Instagram pics and success-sharing Facebook posts taking over and bombarding my life... sure, I'm clicking on these apps and then scrolling obsessively but only because they're there. It's not my fault. It's society's fault. Yes, it's all society's fault.


They seem to have everything together... and to be very tan and happy and fit and... collected. Some of them are even buying a house. How are you buying a house? I can't even buy a burrito without feeling guilty and you have a home? This seems unfair and wrong. I think you should give me your house and you can have half this burrito. On second thought, that would be unfair... you can keep your house. I'll have a house later. And a boyfriend. And a dog. I'll be right where you are now at 23 when I'm 32. God knows where you'll be then, but at lease I have a plan. Good luck to you, sir.

I've recently moved back home to New England after living in LA for a few years. I had to get away from that weather. I hated the weather. Sunshine all the time? No, thank you. I prefer my sporadic rain storms, humidity, and horrifying cold. This is not sarcasm. I do not like the sun or the beaches, but quite like slumping through the rain in the city. To each his own. Or as my friend Ryan says, "You do you, man."

I love that. You do you. That's where the title of this blog came from because honestly, as much crap as I internally give all those people with jobs and homes and spouses - you do you. That seems to be working. And I'm not an idiot, I know only the best stuff is making its way to the internet for me to see, but I hope you're happy. And I'm doing the same thing because we all want to look good. Maybe if we look good, we'll feel better. Better about all of it. 

So you do you and I'll do me and we can meet up for dinner because everybody eats. You can tell me about your interior decorating and I'll discuss my utter aimlessness. We'll hug goodbye and I'll check out your #latergram of #reuniondinner while I'm laying in bed telling myself to fall asleep before 1am because this isn't college and I should be productive tomorrow.

Or maybe I'll just pull out my computer and watch Friends for the umpteenth time.

(Recently saw the below on Tumblr.)

YOUR 20'S

Expectation:

Reality: