I haven't forgotten you!

To cover soon: my awesome Independence Day, the amazing CrossFit Games in Aromas, my birthday (tomorrow), my lingering discontent over my tournament performance, my snapping out of it-ness (I am perking up), my busy end-of-summer, my conditioning class (the one I'm teaching), my proposal, women's grappling camp.

Lots going on. Not writing much about it, obviously, but it's generally good.

Looking up

I think I'm snapping out of my malaise. And even if I'm not, I kind of don't have much time to indulge it these days.

Nor do I have cause. I'm healthy, everyone I love is generally okay, I am financially secure for the moment, and I have some really fun things coming down the pike this summer, starting with a road trip tomorrow with Eddie, Zeb, Mike, Chris, and Alyssa to Santa Barbara! (Others are coming too, but that's the group that's going in Mike's car.) We're going to descend upon CrossFit Pacific Coast, run by our good pals Traver and Eric. We'll do an Independence Day workout and then hit the beach! No, it won't be the sore, but thanks to Paul M. and Dave T., I'll be bringing a taste of the shore to the beach, in the form of 3 lbs of pork roll/Taylor ham (a NJ favorite) and the biggest care package of TastyKakes known to man. (TastyKakes are like Hostess, only they are a Philly institution.)

America! F*ck yeah! More to follow, but for now, I gotta go sleepies so I can get up at 4:30. We're leaving early to avoid the holiday traffic.

Congrats to Seph and Jen!

My pals Seph Smith and Jen Flannery got their brown and purple belts, respectively, from Felipe Costa last night! I spoke with Seph very briefly, and he was incoherent from the brutal hour of rolling with maybe 30 different people. I'm sure Jen felt similarly. But these promotions were well-deserved; Jen has been placing in every competition she has entered this year, and Seph is a monster. A perfectly safe, friendly monster, but a monster nonetheless.

I'm very happy for them!

To Anonymous who asked about the Murph: I have done that workout 3 times, all as prescribed (so, run the mile, do all the pullups, do all the pushups, do all the squats). The first time was in the fall of 2007. I did the pushups from my knees and assisted pullups. It took me about 62 minutes. The second time I did it was maybe 6 months ago. I did the pushups from my toes and unassisted pullups. It took me about 60 minutes. The third time was Memorial Day, same as the second time. It took me about 58 minutes.

It is a grind. But it's always fun to be done!

As for all the comments on the hero part of the post, thanks for those. I am still conflicted, but I am just going to continue doing what I'm doing and hope it shakes out for the best, for as many people as possible.

More later!

It is finished.

I know, pretty presumptuous to quote the last words of Jesus Christ to describe the completion of my project to empty out the storage locker I have been renting lo these 3 years since I left Chicago for grubbier, grapplier pastures. But as of about 2pm Tuesday (today as I write this longhand, perhaps later in the week as I type it in), that’s what the project is: finished. I also thought about saying, “Now we finish it,” like that one kid in the Seinfeld episode right before the entire pee-wee karate class beat the shit out of Kramer in the alley as payback for him tossing them around. But that’s not quite as accurate, at least not anymore.

Maybe I should go with, “I’m done mucking around in my past and feeling an overwhelming mixture of nostalgia, regret, love, fear, anticipation, hysteria, sadness, and even shame. May I please be excused? I have to go curl up in the fetal position and engage in a soothing, repetitive behavior.” Only that’s not entirely accurate either, because I’m not done with the feeling part, much as I’d like to be (not even today, as I type this in.).

I’m having trouble pinpointing exactly what I’m feeling and why this exercise, of finally getting rid of a bunch of stuff I haven’t missed in 3 years anyway, is dredging up quite so MUCH feeling. I guess I don’t really need to know—or what I need to know will become evident when I need it to, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try to pick it apart and ascribe some meaning to it. I’m sure it’s about roads not taken, and sometimes wishing desperately that the untaken road were the right one for me because it would make life so much more straightforward, and of course about feeling like the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Coming face-to-face with that storage locker brought the memories flooding back of me, 3 years ago, contemplating the gaping maw of my existence, knowing that my journey was the right thing, but feeling terrified, alone, and worried about money, identity, and whether I was going to get the things I want(ed) in life. Three years later, that storage locker conjured the same feelings in me. Only I know it’s not only the storage locker. It’s that I’m back there again feeling that way about my life again.

There are some notable differences between the me of 3 years ago and the now me. I know this. I’m not THAT worried about money; worrying about that after all the synchronicities I have experienced related to money is now more of a habit. I am a crapload better at BJJ now. I can break parallel on a squat. And I know, even during the hard times, that the life I have been choosing since I started my vision quest is a much better fit than the one I left behind.

But that’s where I start to feel like nothing has changed. I am feeling pretty much exactly these days the way I did when I was in the final month of planning for my trip: scared, alone, unsure of what’s anchoring me, like I’m behind where I’m supposed to be at this stage of my life, but simultaneously like I have to do what I’m doing because I don’t know what else to do. Back then, it was plan for my trip and trust that it would lead me to my next step. Now, it’s work on my proposal, train, CrossFit, teach conditioning at New Breed, and trust that it will lead me to my next step.

I’m drained, though. In the past couple weeks, no fewer than 10 people have told me that they, or someone they know, consider me their hero. Nora (my channel, whom I’ve been consulting lately because the past couple months have been pretty hard) says it’s because I need the reminder that my journey and I are awesome. That’s a truly nice sentiment. But it makes me feel like a fraud. I don’t feel very heroic right now.

At the moment, I have heartburn because I have been relaxing my Zone habits in favor of expediency. I am soul weary from the cumulative effect of a couple months of confusion, sadness, anger, and befuddlement from a variety of Life Occurrences such that I could easily fall asleep on my feet right now if I allowed myself to. I am covered in scrapes—burns on my shins from rope climbs and on my wrists from muscle-up practice, and rips in my palms from pullups—that make it look like I barely said the safe word in the nick of time. And at inopportune times (like while waiting in El stations or while chatting with some of the friends I have gotten to see while I’ve been in Chicago), I frequently start to laugh or cry, as being back in the place where I first started to go crazy and hatch my vision quest plan reminds me of important people, intentions, and assumptions, some of which I have taken with me, and some of which poke at my heart because they stayed behind.

That doesn’t sound very heroic, I’m afraid. I don’t know why people think I’m a hero. I have more gray hair than the average hero (is “average hero” an oxymoron?), and my handwriting is messy and illegible like a doctor’s. Or a serial killer’s. I’m flattered, but I’m also pooped. It doesn’t compute. Heroes don’t eat ice cream for dinner or watch Judge Judy to make themselves feel better about themselves.

Well, hero or not, I confirmed some things. One thing I know for sure is that I don’t belong in Chicago. It isn’t my home anymore. I love so many people there, and it was good to me for the first part of the time I was there. But it's not the right fit now. This is a great thing to know, and I’m thankful that I do. It’d be even greater, though, to know where I DO belong, which I don’t anymore because this trip, among other things, is giving me perspective. (“Too much fucking perspective,” to quote David St. Hubbins.). But like I said, another thing that I do know is that the thing I need to be focusing on right now is my proposal. The rest should fall into place if I focus on that. That at least has been the formula since I went walkabout—whatever is the thing I’m preoccupied with is the thing I must do; even if it seems like a detour away from the things I feel I need to accomplish next, it is usually the express train directly to those things.

Okay, enough heavy stuff. Next entry will be how the week has been going and all the annoying things I’ve had to deal with, turned into witty, self-deprecating anecdotes, of course.

My visit to CrossFit Chicago

http://www.crossfitchicago.com/post.php?post=1241

I'm a pretty pretty princess!

A picture says a thousand words. I have to open my hips more at the bottom of the kip instead of bending my knees (at least until I get the butterfly kip, which I tried for the first time at a gymnastics seminar a couple weeks ago).

It was a fun workout: front squats and then handstand pushups, one-legged squats, and pullups. Ivy, the instructor, took great care of me, and the students were great too. CrossFit is like grappling in that the people are just awesome.

Anyway, I'm recovering from my walk down Memory Lane and am still processing it all. Writing one of my usual witty, brilliant posts. Stay tuned.

I meant San Juan Capistrano

I'm in Chicago. Have been since Sunday. Those of you who have been with me since I started this blog know that I lived here for 6 years before going off the grid and taking my vision quest. This week I have been cleaning out the storage locker I have had here since I left; it contained all kinds of vestiges of my former life. So I spent 2 full days going through the stuff, and the accompanying emotions, to put a close to that chapter once and for all.

Feeling/thinking lots of stuff about it, and the timing, as always, is fascinating. More soon.

Moving on...

I got a letter from my insurance company saying that they are unable to locate the person who hit me, which I assume means the information he gave me is outdated or falsified. So I won't be able to get the deductible from him. Again, draw your own conclusions.

There's plenty more I could say about Anonymous' comments and the subsequent discussion, but I'm not going to bother. Moving on...

Tomorrow is a tourney in San Luis Capistrano. I'm not competing, but I'll be coaching our students and being a mat coordinator. Should be fun but a long day. And then on Sunday I leave for a week. I'm headed to IL; I'll be in Chicago for a bit cleaning out my storage locker. The one I left behind when I left Chicago THREE YEARS ago. Whoa. In some ways I am a completely different person, and in some ways, not much has changed. I'll be getting everything out, jettisoning some things, and giving the rest to my friend Adamarie, who is meeting me in Chicago. She just moved into a new house and needs furniture. So I'm giving her a couch and whatever other things she wants, and then the rest of it will go into her basement. Yeah, I'm just changing storage areas, but I'll get to clear some stuff out and I'll also not have to pay anymore.

Plus, I think it will be important for me to get rid of my last connection to Chicago. It's kind of like a security blanket, maybe, like if this life doesn't work out I can just unpack the storage locker into an apartment back there. But I know I won't be going back there to live. I don't know if I'll be staying in LA, but I won't be going back.

I really think things will start to get interesting once I begin to shop my book proposal around. My agent has it now and is going to read the draft this weekend. And after that I will probably have more revising to do, but my goal is to have a circulate-able draft by the end of July.

So those two things, cleaning out my closet and circulating my proposal, are going to be pretty momentous, I predict. I'll be moving on in more ways than one.