Proud Parent

Today my child made me so proud I cried...in public...at the local YMCA. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Those that know me know that I am indeed a crier. I am an emotional individual and I cry for lots of reasons: happiness, sadness, giddiness, anticipation, love, loss, pain. Today I cried because of pride. Not pride in something my child achieved, not because of something he accomplished or won or was first at or best at or even recognized for. I cried because my child learned one of the most important life lessons of all and I am certain it is a lesson that will stick with him for the rest of his life. I am proud of him and I am proud of myself as a parent for helping him get it right, at least this once.

I know I'm biased, but I believe my son has many merits. He is very intelligent. He is loving and compassionate. His sense of humor is often precocious and he abhors failure. Unfortunately, his intelligence coupled with his fear of failure sometimes cripples his willingness to try. As his mother this can be maddening, especially in relation to things I really enjoy. Water sports are a prime example of this. Not that I didn't learn the hard way: my first memory of being in a full-size pool involves my mother wading in after me in jeans and a shirt as my head bobbed between barely above and barely below the water and I attempted to use one arm and one leg to "swim". I jumped right into the deep end with only wading pool experience on my resume. I never became a swimmer, but I can keep myself from drowning, and I love being pulled behind a boat at 35mph on anything. But enough about me.

My son has been enrolled in multiple small group swimming classes with the end result of all of them being that he still won't swim in deep water without some sort of flotation device. He doesn't like to put his face in the water. He doesn't like water in his ears. He wants goggles. He "can't" hold his breath. He gets tired. Blah, blah, blah. Yet he wants to go to the pool and to the beach. I understand that he will never be Michael Phelps, or even on a swim team for that matter. We're at the point now where it's almost on principle that he needs to get over himself and learn to swim. We've been to the YMCA near our house for most of his lessons, some of which were taught by instructors from the fancy High Point Swim Club. In an effort to switch things up and make things fit better into my schedule, I enrolled Captain Awesome in lessons at the YMCA close to the gym. New place, new people. Change is good, right?

Yesterday was the first class and all the children were evaluated by the instructors. Most of the kids are on roughly the same level, with some being more daring and competitive than others. There is one standout, though. He's way bigger in height and girth than the other kids and, by my best guess, about four years older. If his size wasn't enough to make him stick out of the crowd, his lack of experience and lack of bravery sure did the trick. At the end of the class the students were supposed to jump from standing into the deep end of the pool where the instructor was waiting to give them a noodle they could use to swim back to the edge and climb out. Captain Awesome was having no part of jumping from standing the first time and instead chose to sit down and shove off from his rump. The big kid followed his lead. The second time Captain Awesome managed to lurch into a belly flop after much hesitation. Well, the big kid was having no part of that. The other boys began to stand around behind the big kid and snicker and point. As I watched, my son joined in and the snickering became jeers of "Do it." The big kid simply shook his head and sat down. I was mortified.

I waited in the narrow hallway for my son to come out of the locker room and observed all of the YMCA campers interacting with each other. I remembered how mean some kids I knew growing up could be. I remembered the few times that I worked to stop meanness or rumors or be welcoming and inclusive. I realized that it wasn't enough. There were plenty of things that I turned the other cheek to as a kid, and even things that I participated in that were wrong. Mean. I knew a tough conversation was coming but I know in my heart that my son isn't mean. I want to raise a man with Christian values that leads by example and will defend others against all the mean.

It WAS a tough conversation. At one point in the discussion I brought up that Captain Awesome had just as hard a time jumping into the water as the big kid. I immediately felt terrible for the way I phrased it. There were a lot of tears, a lot of "I don't know!" responses and a lot of suggestions for the future. It was one of those conversations that leave both parent and child exhausted and tiptoeing around each other for awhile. I really don't like when I'm left wondering if anything that was discussed will stick. I don't like those tough conversations and I hate when they have to be repeated.

When we entered the pool area today, I collected Captain Awesome's t-shirt and shoes and sent him into the water with a reminder: Be an encourager. I settled down with my book to "read" and to watch and to wait.

Instruction was given on the different strokes and the children swam laps (with noodles) and played games. Finally, with ten minutes left in class, the students lined up to jump into the deep end. Captain Awesome didn't do too much better than yesterday, unless you want to award style points for the belly flop. The big kid stepped up to the edge.

I felt the anxiety emanating from this kid all the way across the pool. He was doing everything he could to muster the wherewithal to jump. He pumped his arms. He took a step back and then a step forward...and then a step back. He raised one knee high as though he was going to try a jump shot approach. Nothing worked. A few of the boys behind him started giggling and pointing. My heart was sinking. The next few moments changed everything.

Captain Awesome pushed his way through the group of boys, touched the big kid gently on the arm to get his attention, and said "You can do it." A couple of the other boys started scoffing "Do it!" Captain Awesome gave them a stern look, turned back to the big kid and smiled at him, saying "You CAN do it." loud enough to be heard over the others. Soon enough the other kids softened and became more supportive. The big kid didn't jump in from standing, but he did shove off from a seated position and swim underwater, holding his breath, which is more than any of the others had the gumption to do. Captain Awesome led the applause when the big kid surfaced.

I wanted to join in the applause, but I was too busy wiping tears from my eyes. The next thing I saw was the contagion of kindness sweeping the class. The boys were helping each other out of the pool, offering high fives and motivating each other. I was delighted. I AM delighted. And so very proud. The root word of "encourager" is "courage". Sometimes it takes courage to do what is right and encourage others to begin to realize their potential, even if that potential means they are swimming beneath the surface while you're still just trying to jump in. I hope that my son always has the courage to be an encourager and that I always have the courage to have those tough conversations. I want to experience more of the proud parent moments.

The Backup Date

February 5, 2016 was a Friday night, the night of my son's Valentine's dance at his elementary school. The automated phone tree voice message describing the event informed us parents that our children must be accompanied by an adult and that "students should dress to impress". I advised Captain Awesome before we headed to the school that the sweatpants he had on were probably not overly impressive. After a change of wardrobe for Captain Awesome and a phone chat with Captain Awesome's dad (my Punk), we headed out for an evening of, I dunno...(fun?)...something.

We arrived and Captain Awesome immediately started scanning the crowd for his BFF, the little ginger-haired girl he has been planning to marry since they were three years old. I asked if he was certain she would be there after a few minutes of fruitless searching among the sea of little girls all dolled up. He told me that she had said she would be there, so we got him some pizza from the concession area and sat down to eat it and wait. Among the ebb and flow of squealing kids and DJ announcements quite a few of Captain Awesome's other friends came up and spoke to him and two girls even asked him to dance. He very politely declined both invitations. Eventually he asked me to text BFF's mom to see if they were on the way. I sent the text and asked Captain Awesome if he wanted to dance with me or anyone else while we waited for a response. He didn't. He finished eating and we made our way to the edge of the dance floor where we watched and waited. Here is a picture of Captain Awesome and BFF at the dance in 2015:

Then the text came. BFF wasn't coming. She was at her cousin's birthday party. BFF's mom apologized to me and said she was sorry for not letting me know, she didn't even think about it. I wasn't worried, but Captain Awesome was suddenly looking far from awesome. He hung his head so low and suddenly seemed much smaller and younger than an almost eight-year-old. I tried to lift his spirits without making a big deal of the situation. I offered again to dance with him. I told him we could find the two girls that had asked him to dance before. Nope. I told him we could leave and cut a rug at home if he wanted to. "You mean dance in the kitchen like we did that one time?" Yep. That was exactly what I meant. Finally a smile as he grabbed my hand for the first time in a long time and we headed out of the building.

On the way home I suddenly remembered my freshman year in college. Homecoming game. I didn't have a date and while I never would have admitted it at the time, I was pretty bummed about it. My friends had dates but I did not. I remember getting a call from my dad a few days before the game telling me he was coming. My dad is a football fan, and I'm not even sure he was aware of my being dateless, so I don't think it was a matter of him trying to be my knight in shining armor. But even with my head throbbing and my eyes bleary the morning of the game (it WAS my freshman year in college), when I saw my dad he may as well have been dressed in chain mail and carrying a gleaming sword. We went to the game together and had an enjoyable afternoon on campus. He didn't stay long after the game was over and I still had to watch my friends leave for the evening festivities with their dates. Because my dad had been there, though, it suddenly wasn't such a big deal.

Captain Awesome and I arrived home and did exactly what we set out to do: we cranked up the music in the kitchen and danced ourselves silly. We laughed and twirled around and busted out some moves we certainly wouldn't have used on the dance floor at the school. I am not sure how Captain Awesome thought that night was going to turn out, or even what expectations an eight-year-old boy has when he thinks about a Valentine's dance at school, but I'm pretty sure dancing in the kitchen with his mom wasn't what he had planned. For me, though, that night turned out better than I ever could have dreamed it would. I know the time is not far off when I won't be able to make things all better that easily. Soon enough Captain Awesome will not want to be caught dead dancing in the kitchen with his mom. I just hope he always knows in his heart that I will ALWAYS, GLADLY be his backup date.

Stop saying that CrossFit won't make you bulky.

I am sick and tired of all the CrossFit advocates crying foul and saying that CrossFit won't make you bulky. Athletes and coaches generally make these statements in response to the protests of whining women afraid of trying CrossFit (because they'll lose their clothes hanger style stick figures). These people are lying. CrossFit causes you to bulk up in so many ways that people just won't talk about. I know because I've experienced the bulking.

Endurance running used to be my fitness world. I ran at least six miles four times a week and usually one 10-20 mile run on top of that. I weighed about 120 pounds at 5'7" tall and wore a size 4 (sometimes a 2). My last race that strictly involved running was in December of 2012. So, a little more than three years of CrossFit focused training and coaching later, I weigh about 132 pounds on any given day, I'm still 5'7", and I still wear a size 4 (sometimes now a 6). I look much healthier. I have meat on my shoulders. My butt has, well, "lifted". I have something that resembles hamstring muscles to balance out the quads on my legs. My vertebrae no longer visibly protrude out of my lower back. Basically, I no longer resemble the smiling outdoorsy stick figure that you see on all the T-shirts with the happy dog. I am definitely more bulky than I used to be, but I don't think that anyone that sees me walking down the street in jeans and a T-shirt would ever refer to me as such. More importantly, most of my bulking up hasn't been in the physical sense of the term.

My self-confidence has put on some serious mass. Hearing that "3, 2, 1, GO!" five times a week and knowing that I can survive whatever workout I'm commencing has certainly helped me tackle everyday tasks with confidence. Knowing that I can pick up my 80 pound German Shepherd with ease or carry my 7-year-old son for any distance if I have to is also a nice thought. I can open jars in the kitchen more easily, too.

My focus has seen some positive gains. Working toward multiple short and long term goals simultaneously in the gym helps me focus on priorities outside the gym as well. Learning to put my head down through a rough metcon and chip away at the reps has made the evening chaos at the Giddens' house seem much more manageable.

Adaptability fibers in my brain are becoming increasingly large. So what if something isn't going according to plan? Making adjustments and working through situations as they arise, even just being THERE, IN that difficult moment without panicking is much easier for me than it used to be. You have to be able to shake off that missed lift or "No rep!" in life just like you do in the gym.

Computational math is so much easier now. Just kidding. I still have a front seat on the struggle bus when it comes to math. But as a coach my communication capabilities have developed quite a bit. Because CrossFit truly is for everyone my capacity to move words continues to increase. I must be sure that all my athletes know what they are doing, when, and why. I can only hope to continue to grow in this arena.

Undoubtedly the muscle that has put on the most bulky mass since I started CrossFit is my proverbial heart. I love my gym. I love all the athletes that come into my life because of this crazy fitness thing and I treasure the friendships I've made and the experiences I've had. The oft-used "#fitfam" seems trite until you experience it. People think we're cultish and weird. Maybe. We are a group that suffers together, succeeds together, we invest in each other and our communities; ultimately we are all striving to become better people and we are doing it together.

December 2012 and May 2015

I am sure you have gathered by now that I was thin and didn't need to lose weight when I started CrossFit. I needed to increase my actual, non-satirical physical muscle mass to improve my health. Can CrossFit help you lose weight if you have weight to lose? Of course it can. Can CrossFit teach you how to be healthier overall? Absolutely. If you or someone you know are thinking of trying CrossFit but are afraid of getting bulky, or you are afraid that it will be too hard or you aren't fit enough to try it, maybe you should change your way of thinking. If someone says that CrossFit won't make you bulky, tell them they are wrong and that you know the truth and you hope for all the gains. I don't know anyone who couldn't benefit from a little more CrossFit style bulk.