la toilette

Here’s my finished bathroom – the easiest place to furnish/decorate since there’s not too much to do. [Although apparently bathroom furniture is a thing. I guess I do own bathroom shelving. But you could buy what I would describe as a vanity poof/stool for ridiculous amounts of money at stores. And those things were ugly.] I was lucky in finding an awesome shower curtain that was marked down from $60 to $45. When the cashier rang it through, it came up as $20. I threw that in my bag and left as quick as possible, just in case there was a mistake. Scoring an unexpected deal can really make your day. Especially when you live in a mess. Add a cute toilet paper holder and you’re set.

My bathroom is ridiculously spacious which is really kind of unnecessary. It  just means you have to walk further to the toilet in the middle of the night when you should be sleeping anyway. [Getting up to pee in the night is a serious condition. It's called nocturia. I do it all the time. Apparently it's more common in pregnant women and the eldery. I'm neither of these. Which just means I'm not sleeping well. It has the potential to have a huge detriment on productivity - one study found that nocturia resulted in 24% decrease in productivity. That's a big deal.] So I have a large bathroom. And zero plugs. Seriously. I have to keep my electric toothbrush in my bedroom. I have to straighten my hair in my bedroom. Living in an old house has perks like character and stuff. But in the old days, they didn’t think they would need plugs in the bathroom. Huge mistake. So annoying. Though, like anything, you just get used to it. Definitely something to think about for my next apartment [or eventually a house if I ever get a real-life job]. As is the two separate faucets – one for hot and one for cold. Whoever came up with the idea of combining these was brilliant. Seriously under-rated invention.

Double faucet sink. Lovely.

Still to be posted artwork…

Cute toilet paper holder

My DIY body care + DIY labels

romance shmomance.

When it comes to romance, I generally can’t stand it. When my couple friends say mushy things to each other, I basically yell, “Barf!” and cover my eyes. I think my friends purposely do mushy things in front of me just to see my reaction. I can’t stand it when people post stuff like “I love you my little pumpkin wumpkin” on each others’ Facebook walls. I don’t want to see it. I complain about it whenever I see it. I hate [well maybe not hate but close] engagement photos. I’m sorry but they are just so freaking mushy. I’m not married so I don’t know, but maybe the point is just to practice for your actual wedding photos? I mean, what do people even do with engagement photos? Put them on the wall for a few months and then replace them with the actual wedding photos? And why do people always seem to wear matching outfits when they do these things? I have seen some pretty good ones but the majority of them seem to be just to post a new album on Facebook. [Can someone remind me when I get married in 10 years about how useless I think engagement photos are?] And don’t even get me started on Valentine’s Day. Ugh.

So….I think it must be pretty hard to be my boyfriend. I can’t stand the romance I see around me [except in movies], yet I’m surprised when T.W. doesn’t send me a large box of chocolate every week. [Don't worry...I pick up my own box of chocolate each week.] What girls really want is thoughtfulness…it doesn’t have to be crazy or expensive. All I’d like is an extra frosty when you stop at Wendy’s for a burger on your way over [frosties are paleo, right?]. Or do the dishes without being asked. Or get dressed in real clothes [aka not a Rogue t-shirt and sweatpants with your "nice" Reebok nanos] and take me out to dinner [not at Wendy's...]. It took two and a half years, but there’s finally a bit of romance. He bought me flowers. Purple ones to match my living room.  That’s thoughtful. Dropping them off at my office at school, scooter helmet in hand? Adorable. Maybe he’s finally learning something. [And maybe if I praise it on the internet, I'll get more? Is that why people post this shit on Facebook? In that case, a beard trim might also be considered romantic....]

Lesson: even the girls who hate romance, love romance.

an empty apartment.

When I moved to this apartment, there was a long list of things I needed. Couch. Table. Coffee table. Desk. Dresser. Some kind of storage something. These are big decisions. It’s kind of exciting to have a blank slate. All I really had living room wise, was a tv stand and tv, two kitchen chairs, and a bookshelf. Lots of room to get whatever I wanted. Within budget. I’d saved up my taxes for two years and planned on using my refund for furniture. The problem was just deciding what I wanted. I spent a lot of time on Pinterest, getting inspired by houses that I will never be able to afford. I went back and forth to different Home Senses to see what was available. I checked out real furniture stores that were having closing or moving sales. [One of which I walked into, in lulu's and my yellow Hunter's, and turned around immediately when I saw a dining room table marked down 60% to about $3000. Probably not happening. I've been in university for 10 years people.] Everywhere I went I just felt undecided. I scoured usedvictoria and kijiji and craigslist. I worried about getting a couch up some narrow stairs. I cursed not having an Ikea on the island.

In an ideal world, I would have taken more time. I would have researched more. I would have picked up one thing at a time, finding things I really loved, figuring out my style as I went. Furniture is not like clothing. You can’t just change it the next day. You have to live in it everyday. It’s a big decision. In an ideal world, I would have felt no pressure. In my real world, I hated living without furniture. I hated the decisions looming over my head. I hated sitting on the floor to eat. I mostly hated feeling unsettled and not “at home.” So I ordered a bunch of stuff from Ikea. I had it delivered. As soon as I put that order in, I felt so much more relaxed. As soon as it came, I spent hours of frustration getting everything set up. But now, I have a home. It’s not perfect. But I have somewhere to eat, somewhere to rest, somewhere to stretch and roll. Somewhere to relax and get away from the stress. And I think it’s kind of pretty. Though, I can imagine one day I will get tired of a purple couch.

perspective

I had another disappointing workout in 13.3. I matched my score from last year exactly. Well, except this time I had time for a couple more attempts at muscle ups. And I failed them. I couldn’t lock out my arms. And I was pretty frustrated when the workout finished. I am no fitter than I was last year.

Except I know I am. I think I am stronger, physically. I think I’m also stronger mentally. So while the same score was at first frustrating, I just needed to change my perspective. I had more time this year – I was able to attempt more muscle ups. I also remembered [slash was reminded by my coach] how little training of muscle ups I’ve done or even of anything upper body in the last three months. I am reminded of my injuries.

In my 8 years of competing in gymnastics, I never really dealt with any injuries. I had aches and pains, most of which I played up as much as possible to get out of doing things I didn’t want to do, but I never really dealt with any injuries. In my recent years of CrossFit, I’ve been fairly lucky and with the help of much mobilizing, I’ve been injury-free. Until this year. The good thing [and also the bad thing] about the injury was it was self-inflicted accident. This is good because it means there was no over-training and no bad positioning. This is bad because it meant moments of “if only…” and regret at a bad decision.

In working on some snatches, I dropped the bar on my leg. I was trying to be courteous, and not drop bars that I didn’t need to, in consideration of the business below the gym where I was training. [Apparently their lights shake with all the bars being dropped.] But as I brought down the 125-pound bar, it slipped and smashed into my right quad. It rolled down my leg, until the message reached my brain that something was not good, and I jerked my leg out of the way. I laid down on floor, wailing. [My mom was working out at the time and didn't even blink. Someone went over to her to let her know her daughter might be hurt. My mom thought I was just "working hard." I've been known to make a little bit of noise when a workout gets tough, but nothing close to the wailing that was happening this day.]

Ouchie!

The good news was I didn’t break my femur or anything crazy like that. It was just a bruise. A really deep bruise. The bad news is, I could hardly walk for a few days and it took a good 3 weeks before I could reach full range of motion, unweighted. In the meantime, I did a lot of upper body stuff – presses, pull ups, dips, handstand push ups…all lots of fun. And then I started to get some shooting pain down my left shoulder. It was one of those things that just felt kind of funny and would probably be fine tomorrow. It was not. It turns out I had some issues with my subscapularis. So now I had no right leg, and no left shoulder.

It was a pretty frustrating time, but there was time. I had time before the Open and I was still able to do some training. I have an amazing coach who programmed around what I was actually able to do. I have an awesome chiro who healed my shoulder, and helped with my knee. I have a great boyfriend and supportive family that helped with my tears. There was a lot of other stuff going on in my life, so a little extra rest time was kind of nice.

And it’s better. My knee has been feeling fine for the last 6 weeks and my shoulder has been mostly pain-free for the last two weeks. So when I consider that until two weeks ago, I wasn’t even able to attempt muscle ups or do pull ups without pain, 13.3 was pretty successful. The fact that I managed the same score as last year, is pretty good. It’s a reminder to be thankful for what I have and what I am able to do, to focus on the positives. And to be excited for what is to come!

christmas chez moi

So…it’s March. Whatever. Here’s a quick snapshot of what Christmas time looks like when I get to be home for the holidays. [Warning: this is a long series of ridiculously awesome photos. Apologies to my family.]

My parents’ dog in his special Christmas outfit. No one has any idea why his shirt says “Just Chew It” or where it came from. Our best guess is that I purchased this in Korea. 

First activity on Christmas morning? Unloading the dishwasher. My sister and I are well-trained children. 

So….my parents replaced our old toilet and then kept it on our deck for like 3 months. My mom had put some dried flowers in the bowl to spruce it up a little so we wouldn’t seem so crazy to our neighbours but I didn’t manage to capture that. 

Me, my sister, and our Christmas tree. 

Bentley and his Christmas gift – bull penis. 

Cooking Christmas breakfast [delicious coconut pancakes!]. I should maybe avoid putting terrible photos of myself on my blog….

Family of brainiacs – my brother and his gf working on a near impossible puzzle. 

Mom using all her might to get the insides out of the turkey that was not as well thawed as it should have been. 

Crazy chef. 

Games & wine. Bring on the good times with the cousins. There may or may not have been some Wii Just Dance later. My brother may or may not have been the most awesome at it. 

A Christmas/birthday cake [for my dad!]. Family photo of the female cousins.

disappointment…

[me snatching at Regionals 2012 - photo by Kath]

Well, the CrossFit Games season is here. And it started it out poorly. Seventeen minutes of burpees and snatches. If we all remember, I hated the burpees last year [who didn't?] and had a mental break down deciding if I should re-do that stupid workout. I did. The snatches last year went alright though. And so I thought snatches + burpees wouldn’t be so bad. But it was. I knew it would be uncomfortable. I knew it wouldn’t be fun [until it was over]. I set a goal I thought was maybe just slightly out of reach: I wanted to finish 30 snatches at 100 pounds. Last year I made 22 snatches at 100 pounds so I thought to aim a little higher and if I made about 22, that would be ok. I had a game plan, and a positive mental focus going in.

And I mostly stuck to the plan. I stayed focused throughout. But I just didn’t move fast enough. There was too much rest time and I ended up with 15 snatches and a face full of tears. That was not where I thought I would be. And even though it isn’t terrible in terms of placing in my region, I was not happy with my performance. Did I do the best I could for where I am right now, consider the injuries I’ve been dealing with, and a week in Hawaii before this? I think so. But I didn’t do what I think I am capable of as an athlete at my best. And so I was disappointed with my performance.

I let myself be disappointed for a good few hours. And then I moved on. I did not think about re-doing the workout. I did not obsessively check the leaderboard to watch my score fall. I did not cry any more about. [I kind of wanted to, but I refrained.] What’s done is done. Be disappointed, let go, and look forward to the future. I can’t control what the workouts will be or how other people do. But I can control my attitude and how hard I work. Continuing to be disappointed serves no purpose. Instead, I’m choosing to be grateful that I get to compete and that I have an amazing group of people to surround myself with and that there will probably be no more burpees.

So, as my coach says, “onwards and upwards.”

packing

I have a real love-hate relationship with traveling. One of the things on the hate side of my internal debate is packing. This has to be one of the hardest things to do in all of life. There are so many decisions and so many factors. I procrastinate in very few areas of life: taxes and packing. This is strategic. Getting my tax return for three years at once is awesome. Packing…well… when I leave it until the last minute because then I’m forced to make decisions and I don’t have time to second guess myself. There are many elements to consider: how long I’m going to be there, what the weather is like, how much training will I be able to do, and what I will feel like wearing when I’m there. How am I suppose to know what I’ll feel like wearing in three days? I’d like to say I consider how much it will cost to check a suitcase and the relative easy-breeziness of traveling without checked luggage, but I rarely think of this. Partly because I think it’s ridiculous to be charged for that [like the ticket didn't cost me enough] so I just don’t think of it, but also because I rarely go anywhere that I’m not going to be training and my training stuff [lifting shoes, shoes, roller, balls, skipping rope, training journal, stretching band] pretty much fills my entire carry on.

I’m notorious for overpacking. I never think “I probably won’t need this.” I always think, “Oh, there is a small chance I might need this. I should take it. I would hate to be unprepared.” One thing I’ve learned is to have T.W. around when I pack. As I’m putting things in my suitcase, Lucas is taking them out. When I went to Holland for three months, I had pulled out three pairs of shorts, two pairs of capris, two pairs of compression tights, two t-shirts, and three tank tops to take for my workout clothes. I sternly got told to cut that selection in half. And with his help, I managed to make it there with a carry on and a small suitcase. [I upgraded to a much larger suitcase when I stopped at my parents' on the way back to Victoria....]

On my most recent trip, to Hawaii, Lucas found me, as usual, trying to pack the night before I leave. He looked at my little pile of stuff and asked, pleasantly surprised, “Is this it?” And, glowing with pride, I answer, “Yes………plus the stuff for the wedding. Oh and my workout stuff. And all my bathroom stuff.” All of sudden, I went from like 2 pairs of shorts and tanks to oodles of make up, hairspray and bobby pins, straightener and curler, nail polish, dress, jewelry, and my two pairs of training shoes. And a full bag. Maybe one day I’ll learn the art of taking only a carry on, but until then, I’ll be the girl carrying two suitcases for a week’s trip. It’s not that bad. I’ve only had my luggage lost like 4 times and it’s only a huge pain to manage to carry all these by myself. [I seem to be forever traveling alone. Try going to the bathroom with a carry on, stuffed back pack, and regular suitcase, and not violating any of those "Do not leave your luggage unattended" warnings...]

The truth of the matter is, one does not look this good crying without having packed a lot to help out with that….

[Photo by Wendy]