Jaybird Takes Flight

There Will Be a Test

When I was in 5th grade, I wanted, more than anything, to be in Summer Chorus.  Summer Chorus was an annual production put on by high schoolers – such as my older sister, the hero of my childhood (and often my adulthood, but for the love of God don’t tell her that).  For the 5th graders, they only picked a few students and it was up to the discretion of the teacher.  I spent the year being very well behaved, very quiet in chorus, except for when we were supposed to be singing, and then, I sang my heart out.

I did not get picked for Summer Chorus.  I was crushed.  Never before in my young experience had I tried so hard and wanted something so much for it to fail so utterly.

My parents, who were always very involved, asked the teacher why I was not chosen.  I had a pretty voice and they knew I tried very hard and was a good kid.  When they spoke to the teacher she said, “Oh, she was so quiet I just forgot all about her!”

My father was not pleased.

In my family, I am known as the quiet one.  As the middle child, sandwiched between two incredibly vivacious and outgoing sisters, I was bookish, quiet, and often felt that when too many people are talking, no one was listening.  So I listened instead, as it made more sense to me.  I was also fairly shy.

My father decided that I would not be overlooked simply because I was well behaved.  Music was always a big part of family life – my dad would play records and we would all sit around and play or dance or sing, listening to them.  My father bought the record “The Lord of La Mancha”, which is a musical based on Don Quixote.  He played the title song and had me listen to it over and over again.

“I am I, Don Quixote, the Lord of La Mancha, my destiny calls and I go.”

Then he had me sing it.  Used to singing in chorus, it was unnerving to sing alone, to an audience of one.  I sang quietly, shyly, and almost meekly.

This was not acceptable.

“No!  You are the LORD – the LORD! – of La Mancha!  Sing it again.”  Repetition was very big with my father.  We would do things over and over again until we did them the correct way (ask my sister about when she was five and couldn’t open the car door – I think she ended up opening the car door something like 37 times).

So, I sang it again.  And again.  Until I could belt that song out.  Until I had no fear.  I honestly do not know if it was over the course of a day or days or weeks that we did this exercise.  It seems endless in my memory.  Me singing, him reminding me that I was the Lord.

I do not know how my parents managed it, but I was in summer chorus that year.

Don Quixote – rich with imagery, symbolism, metaphor and philosophy – became something I associated with my father quite heavily.  He and I even have a tattoo of Don Quixote on our legs, in the same spot, although I didn’t get my until after he passed away.  I figured it was better than a rose with “Dad” written on it.

Throughout my life, my father would say to me, “Pay attention – there will be a test.” Whether the lesson was how to drive, cook, shoot, change a tire – something I had to learn before I was allowed to drive a car – or the difference between a Philips or standard screwdriver, my father would snag my wandering attention by telling me, “Pay attention, there will be a test.” As someone who took school very seriously (what can I say? I’m a nerd) telling me that there would be a test ensured my complete, albeit anxious, attention.

Around the age of 19 or so, my father and I were in the garage and he was explaining to me how to use something – I honestly can’t remember if it was the air compressor or the welding equipment – and he said, “Pay attention – there will be a test.”

Being a bit of a pain in the butt during my teenage years, I said, “When? When’s the test? You’ve been telling me my whole life that there is going to be a test, but there never is!”

My father looked at me very calmly and said, “Life is the test.”

Then he walked rather smugly into the house.

On September 29, 2010 my father passed from this world into the next.  Going through all of the pictures of my father’s life, I realized how rich his life and ours had been. Trying to list all of the things my father taught me would turn into a book, but I can list some of the experiences I’ve had that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. Thanks to my father I’ve water skied, snow skied, bungee jumped, seen oceans and mountains, pet sharks, dolphins and many other animals, visited Europe, and much more.

Unlike many of my pagan brethren, I always had a very easy time of being Wiccan with my family, mainly due to my father’s open mind. When I first became Wiccan, he asked a lot of questions and even read several books – I think he was initially worried I’d joined some sort of cult, but he reserved his judgment until he had researched Wicca. After finishing one of the books he remarked on how it was very similar to how he had always believed. My father was very big on understanding what was going on first, then making a judgment call.

Part of why he was so open to my pagan path was his deep love of nature. Every spring, the first sunny and warm day after a rainfall, my family would go morel hunting. My parents would call off work, they would call us in sick for the day, and the whole family would go out into the woods to hunt for morels. It was always a rejuvenating and fun tradition.

Any time there was a turtle in the road, my dad would stop to save it. Something all three of his daughters still do to this day. As a matter of fact, I knew my husband was the man for me when I pulled over to the side of the road to save a turtle and instead of having to explain my actions to him, he just hopped out and escorted the turtle to the other side of a road.

Above all else, my father loved birds, especially birds of prey. He regularly gave donations to Treehouse, a wildlife rescue and rehabilitation charity in the River Bend area similar to our local Free Again. One of his favorite birds was the red tailed hawk. We would take various car trips and have contests to see which family member could spot the most hawks.

Lately, the hawks have been saying hello. The number of hawks that have been very conspicuous in my presence has really grown in the weeks since my father died. There was one that even seemed to be waving at me, but my rational brain would insist that this was just wishful thinking. However, yesterday my younger sister and I were driving when my older sister called. We put her on speakerphone so we could all three talk, and that was when a huge hawk, lit almost golden by the sun, flew by us. In what was mere seconds later, my older sister saw a red tailed hawk fly by as well. This happy coincidence again occurred a few hours later when my older sister called and spoke with us again. My mother and younger sister recently bought a new vehicle and while test driving it together they wondered aloud if my father would like it and a red tailed hawk flew mere feet right over the vehicle, as if in approval. While I already believe quite firmly in the afterlife, the recent behavior of the hawks has really confirmed for me that the spirit does go on and after our loved ones have passed, they do find ways to say hi.

We were all very lucky to have my father in the world. He stopped for people on the side of the road, in winter he would pull cars out of ditches just to be nice, and he saved many, many turtles. He was a force of good in the world that will be sorely missed.

For every house repair, car repair, or other major decision in my life, I would call and talk to my dad. His approval and support, not to mention his vast knowledge, were always a comfort and a help. There have been many times recently where I think I should ask Dad about something, but unfortunately, I can’t. I keep thinking that life without him is really is the biggest test and I am glad that I was paying attention.

My Crossfit Journey Thus Far

In May of last year, Will and I started working out with a personal trainer at Crossfit Simple. I would love to be able to say that I went to Crossfit to get healthy, to get in shape, and to feel better about myself, but alas, these were not my motivations – although they have been my results. Those were vague hopes that I did not really think would materialize, but my motivation was the health of my husband, Will.

Will, for over a year or two, had been ill with some sort of mystery illness. This made him short of breath, low on energy, and generally run down. We went to doctor after doctor, at first fearing that it was heart disease or something with his lungs. We saw specialists. Here is the thing that they do not tell you – if you have something that is not easily diagnosed, the medical system does not care about you and tends to think you are a crazy hypochondriac. You would think that with what doctors make they would be more diligent, but they weren’t. Will even spent over a week getting tests at the Mayo Clinic, but no one could diagnose him.

In August of 2010, Will was pretty disheartened that they were ever going to figure out what was wrong with him. He figured that since they cleared him of anything being wrong with his heart or lungs that what he would do is join Crossfit, as his parents really loved going. I think the vague hope was that he would lose weight and thus eliminate one of the issues the doctors said might be the cause of his mystery illness.

I thought the Crossfit idea sounded lovely, and wanted to join myself, but at 246 pounds in a size 24, I figured that I was too out of shape to be able to do most of what they were doing. Instead, I figured I would start walking and get my weight down, get in better shape and then join Crossfit (this logic seems crazy to me now, but at the time seemed reasonable). I have never really liked gyms, and working out with other people has always made me feel self conscious.

Will, being Will, did not go to Crossfit. He stayed sick but never went, even though this was his Plan. Around May of 2011, out of frustration with Will saying he didn’t have time and him never going, I decided to go myself. I knew if I went, he would go. However, being hugely out of shape and morbidly obese (seriously, I am 5’3” and weighed 246), I decided that if I called them, they would simply reassure me that I could join. If I went in person, they could see me and thus would be able to give me a better idea of whether or not this was for me.  It one thing to hear someone say they are out of shape, it is another to see the proof.

Going in person was a good idea. The people I talked to at that time assured me that yes, I would be fine in Crossfit. They would scale the exercises to fit my abilities (or lack thereof). I then contacted one of the trainers, Rhonda, who set up a time for us to come in. Rhonda said that either she or another trainer, Scott, would be working with us.

Prior to going, I had dread. I figured it would be a somewhat humiliating experience, as most gym experiences tended to be for me. I never really had a good idea of what I was doing in a gym setting, and honestly, when someone very overweight goes to workout in many gyms (especially in this area at SIU’s Rec Center), there is little support and occasionally, open derision. I was happy to find out that this was NOT the case at Crossfit Simple. People there were supportive and encouraging from day one. The atmosphere is welcoming and everyone seems to be encouraging everyone else. This was such a change and a surprise for me, but one I gladly welcomed.

When we arrived, Rhonda told us that we would be working with Scott as a trainer. I had mixed feelings about this, because on one hand I figured that Will would probably do better with a male trainer, but I also worried that I would do worse. It didn’t help that Scott is in psychotically good shape. I know, he is a trainer and he is supposed to be in good shape, but at the time, I mainly thought, “Oh, crap. Yikes.” I comforted myself with the thought that chances were good I was smarter or more well read than he was, but both of these assertions turned out to be erroneous, as well. Sometimes I am hugely wrong, but hey, if you are going to be wrong, be wrong ALL THE WAY. (I will say that I am possibly a better speller than he is, but I would not bet money on that being true, either.)  Scott (much like Will) is spooky smart and well versed on so many topics it is a bit crazy. Luckily, I did not know that the time.  Now that I do know that, I just ask him a lot of questions about what books to read, how to survive the zombie apocalypse, and other things of great import.

Having Scott as a trainer turned out to be one of the best pieces of luck for Will and I. Scott scaled the exercises so I could do them, which all of the Crossfit Simple trainers will do. Explained thoroughly how to do the various things we did, and guided/prodded us along. He was enormously patient.  He encouraged us and praised us when we did well, and corrected us when our form was bad as bad form = injury.

Will – the Love of My Life, Song of My Heart – has the capacity to be a bit cantankerous. He can be annoyed and frustrated one minute and jovial the next. I am always just pleased that his anger tends to be short lived. He has ADD, so that is a challenge, and he also has this stubborn streak where if something does not make sense or if he does not know why he is doing something, there is a good chance he simply will not do it. I could write another blog entry simply on Will and Geometry and Why Postulates Are Bad.

This is also true in Crossfit. When Scott would explain something to us that Will did not understand the why behind, (“Why am I jumping underneath this bar?”) Scott would not even miss a beat in explaining it in a way that would appeal to Will. The ability to try a different approach in teaching someone is a rare talent that only the best teachers seem to have. I have sat in many classrooms where the teacher will simply repeat what he said before, possibly more slowly or loudly, even though that clearly did not work the first time. Scott just explains it from a different angle, until it clicks.

Since starting Crossfit in May of 2011, my life and my outlook on life has changed considerably. My knees used to hurt simply getting out of bed in the morning. Going downstairs to do laundry used to be something that would wind me, and we do not have that many steps to the basement. Bringing laundry up from the basement would hurt my back, and I often had to pause halfway up. I would spend the majority of my time on the computer or in front of the television. I wanted to go out and be active, but it was exhausting.

Will and I have been hiking more in the last several months than we have the entire time we’ve been married (two months shy of 15 years). In the past, we would go hiking at Little Grand Canyon, and I would not even be able to make it to the very pretty valley area, but the last time went, I was able to hike the whole thing. I can carry more things with less stress. I have more energy, I think more clearly, and I want to do more things that involve activity. Will and I have twice done the High Ropes Course out at Touch of Nature in this past year, something that would not have even been possible prior to Crossfit.

I have lost 40 pounds and gone from a size 24 to a size 18. I still have quite a way to go on that front, but I have learned to listen less to the scale and more to the fit of my jeans. I can lift things and do things I never thought I would be able to do. When we first started Crossfit I was able to deadlift 45 pounds, and now I can deadlift 225 pounds (today I just set a new personal record and deadlifted 235!). Will has put on an impressive amount of muscle, and lost weight as well. He was always broad shouldered, but now those shoulders seem broader with larger, more defined muscle.

The other added bonus to Crossfit has been how much it has helped with my depression – days I work out tend to be good days. The boost to mood cannot be overstated, and it was this benefit that kept me coming back to Crossfit in the early days where I was still nervous and anxious about the whole process. It has even helped me kick a few unsavory habits, as after my dad died I developed a bit of an addiction problem. However, when you know that you may have to run laps, do kettle bell swings, squats, pushups, and god knows what else, you tend to think that maybe it would be better to just get a good night’s sleep instead.

I feel like I have been reborn into a world where anything is possible. I am so excited about the possibilities that I now have to choose from. The number of limitations my weight and being out of shape put on my life were many – too many. I did not even realize they were there until the limitations started going away. I feel almost evangelistic about Crossfit. Crossfit saved my life! It can save yours!

I am currently doing things that I have always wanted to do. In addition to doing Crossfit three times a week, I am also going to yoga classes at Crossfit Simple. Will and I are hiking at various parks in the area. I find myself thinking more about camping and less about what to watch next on the television. I have cut back on my computer time significantly, and instead of being online all day, I am usually online for work purposes, or to write and only online for fun an hour or so a day. I go outside more. It is really nice outside. Pretty too. Also, free. The loss of weight means I am not constantly too hot – losing 40 pounds of personal insulation has helped me enjoy hotter temperatures. Summer seems less daunting, more fun.

Will’s health issues seem to have gone away. That one is my favorite benefit of Crossfit.

If I could start Crossfit, anyone can. If I could succeed at it, anyone can.

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