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Turning Pounds to Kilos

You heard me! This CrossFitter turned into a Weightlifter this weekend for my very first weightlifting meet.

I am so proud of myself. As a 63kg lifter (or 138.6lb for those, like me, who still have a very limited ability to multiply by 2.2), I made a 122kg total (my highest snatch + clean & jerk) and made 3/6 lifts. Would it have been awesome to go 4/6? For sure! Would it have been even more awesome if I had PR’d my snatch? Duh! How about if I didn’t smash my chin on the barbell on its way up for my first jerk? You betcha!! But I was just there to dip my toes in the weightlifting water, and now that I’ve done it I think I’m addicted to the high.

When describing my experience afterwards and explaining just what the heck happens at a weightlifting meet, I had more than one person bring up the fact that they didn’t think I looked like I weighed 138.6 pounds. They also justified my weight for me by telling me that it was “probably all muscle”.

Well, yeah. A lot of it is muscle. But some of it is bones, some more of it is fat, some of it is my organs, and a lot of it is other things I don’t know how to pronounce. But I didn’t need you to tell me that. I knew it already, because, well, it’s my body.

138.6. Am I supposed to feel uncomfortable with that number?

I weighed in at 63kg on the dot– Literally 63.0kg. And the fact that I did it without really giving up my nightly dose of sun nut butter and the occasional sweet potato binge? Yeah, I’m even more confident in that 138.6 pounds.

CrossFit and weightlifting don’t put a value on the number on the scale. Sure, weightlifting classifies you into weight classes, but that’s done so that your lifts are only competing against others with a similar body weight as you. The women who win the 75kg weight class and the women who win the 63kg weight class are equally respected and regarded as the best, regardless of the number on the scale. Just add it to the running list of reasons why I love these sports: women and men are valued and rewarded for the way that their bodies move and the things that they can accomplish, not how aesthetically pleasing they look while they do them.

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After failing my first two snatch attempts, I finally hit that pesky 54kg

I was 138.6 pounds on Saturday morning at 7am. Tomorrow, I’m probably going to hover around 141, maybe even tip the scale at 142 by the time I go to sleep. Guess what? I still fit into my pants. Guess what else? I’m probably a little bit stronger at 142 than I am at 138.6. What’s more? I love myself at 138.6 just as much as I love myself at 142, and probably just as much as I would love myself at 135.

I don’t blame these people for trying to reassure me. The world tells all of us from the very beginning that women should always be dissatisfied with the number on the scale. But I’m not dissatisfied, I’m actually really freaking proud.

Sending self love,

Maggie

 

When the Season of Eating is Over and You’re Left With…

Business casual. After three weeks of living in leggings and pajama pants on what is the last and longest Winter Break of my young life, the last thing I wanted to remember was business casual. The thought of buttoning a pair of pants around my waist, belly spilling over the top and booty feeling just a little too -licious… No thank you.

Like everyone else, I indulged myself in the best the holiday season had to offer and consciously refused to put on a pair of pants that buttoned (I, in fact, bought elastic waist band jeggings from Gap in order to avoid it).

Now, back to the normalities of school and work, business casual has once again reared its sometimes ugly but sometimes trendy head, meaning buttonable pants are once again a staple in my wardrobe. Meaning that this morning they were a struggle to actually button.

Cue the self-loathing.

Yesterday, I snatched 120 pounds. No, I didn’t get it on video, but trust me, the entire city of Bloomington could hear and feel my excitement as I pranced around the gym giving high fives. I’ve been working for that 120 pound snatch since April.

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The very first time I snatched 100 pounds, almost one year ago!

Here I am, infinitely proud of what this incredible body has accomplished, and then 15 hours later I’m loathing it for not fitting comfortably into a pair of pants. It is truly incredible to me how quickly my own mind can change about the exact same body.

I read an article this morning titled, Burpees and Blush: It’s Okay to be Fierce and Feminine. The first paragraph reads:

A revolution is bubbling under the veneer of traditional female beauty. Women are celebrating what their bodies can DO, rather than what they look like. It’s easy to get sucked into the body comparison game – we’ve all had moments where we feel inadequate. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

You’re right! It doesn’t have to be that way. There is SO MUCH beauty in strength. I believe it so much I have it tattooed on my body. Tattooed!

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See? There it is.

Look at yourself, Maggie. Your body, in its struggle-to-button-your-pants, snatching-120-pounds glory, is absolutely incredible. The things that it achieves and allows you to do are so much more important and impactful than a day or a week of tight pants.

Fill your new year with gratitude and thanks for you and all that your body lets you do.

Sending self love,

Maggie

Judgment Day

Judgment Day: Also known as working out at the Rec Center.

I am writing this while walking on the Curve Treadmill, looking up every few minutes to make sure my sweat isn’t visible on my shirt in the mirror in front of me. I am writing this while watching the woman wearing color coordinated Nike shoes, socks, spandex shorts, sports bra, and cut off tank top who just walked to the drinking fountain. While I’m watching the beefy beefcake who’s wearing a baseball hat and drowning his stationary bike in sweat. I’m judging myself and I’m judging them. I don’t like it.

Why is it that I can preach self-love, self-worth and pride, and yet I walk into this space and all of a sudden I am a self-loathing, judgmental, green monster? I am the person that I hate, that I have worked so hard not to be.

How do I change my mentality, and how do we change the ever-so-obvious self-consciousness that seeps from the padding of the leg press machine and rusts the barbells of these spaces?

Is it because this isn’t “my gym”? I take no ownership over what happens here, over who works out here. I don’t know these people, they don’t know me. Why should I have any thoughts about them at all, and why should I think that anyone in this room is thinking anything about me? Because they are. Because I am. Because it’s the culture of the space.

When did a space that is dedicated to self-betterment and strength in every sense of the word become a space that is dedicated to self consciousness and finding weaknesses in others?

Last week, Rec Sports put on their annual Celebrate EveryBODY Week, a campaign I wholeheartedly love for the obvious reasons. Why can’t every week be Celebrate EveryBODY Week? More importantly, why do we need to have a designated week to celebrate it? Is that how deep rooted into this culture we have grown?

I don’t have the answers, I’m just aware that there are questions.

Milwaukee, WI knows what's up.

Milwaukee knows what’s up.

Awareness is the key to change. Be aware of your thoughts: thoughts about yourself, thoughts you have about those around you. Challenge yourself. Why do I think that? Challenge the space you’re in. Challenge its culture. Challenge creates change. Change can create confidence– and confidence rules.

Do good things today. Lift heavy weights today. Go confidently today!

Sending self love,

Maggie

Two Years Strong

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I have madly and passionately loved for CrossFit for two years.

Two years. A blink in time in the grand scheme of life. Oh, how life can feel static in two years. I still live in the same city, I am still a student, I am still an ice cream addict, I still worship my dog, I still can’t go more than three days without talking to my mom. But oh, how life can change in two years; how life has changed in two years.

I completed my first “foundations” class at CrossFit Bloomington on November 5, 2012, according to my yellow workout notebook. My max, one rep dead lift was 135 pounds. Today, it’s 235 pounds (soon to be tested and hopefully destroyed!). I can literally lift 100 more pounds off of the ground today than I could two years ago. I am by no means the strongest woman at my gym, but I am the strongest me that I have ever been.

I didn’t realize how desperately I needed a life change until I was about 6 months into working out. My self-actualization came during the summer of 2013: Newly single and totally lost. I vividly remember the workout that I did the day after: The Broken Filthy Fifty. Ironic, I know. It was upwards of 95 degrees in this unairconditioned warehouse after working 9-5 at my internship cubicle, and I was about to do 20-15-10-5 reps of: Box jumps, kettlebell swings, walking lunges, knees to elbows, push press (35 pounds), back extensions, wall ball shots (14 pounds), burpees, and double unders, for time.

I don’t remember what time I finished in… I could barely breathe. All I know is that between the heat and the emotions, I was on the verge of tears the entire time. But I finished. I wiped my face, washed my hands, and had officially sweat out everything left inside of me. And it was time to rebuild from there.

CrossFit was my constant, it was my rock. When I talk about the spiritual awakening I went through, it was the Broken Filthy Fifty that signaled the beginning of it. Physically, emotionally, socially, intellectually. You name it, I changed. Some more significant than others, but all noticeably enough for me to appreciate and realize that I am now a more confident, independent, strong woman than I ever was before. I was building my self-worth. “Beauty in Strength”, as many of my friends know, is my mantra now, and it will continue to move me forward.

Today, I’m generally a happier person. HOW?! You ask! For those who don’t know me, happy is my neutral; happy is my normal. But these days, it is more genuine than ever. I love the way that I look. I weigh five more pounds than I did when I started, have lost a pant size, and have gained some serious self-confidence. I value myself more and the things that I am both good and bad at. I understand that life is always challenging, but if I could back squat 180 pounds 10 times in a row last week, I can probably make it through my first semester of graduate school.

I can’t forget to give credit where credit is due during this two year CrossFitiversary:

CrossFit Bloomington, you made this all possible. Thank you for teaching me the basis for everything I needed to know, and sparking this insane fire inside of me. Thank you.

CrossFit Deerfield, thank you for taking me in these past two summers and giving me a community of extremely talented and passionate trainers and athletes. Thank you.

Stonebreaker Athletics, I love you. Thank you for loving me right back in all of my silliness, and for letting me do what I love (almost) every day. Thank you.

Carl and Q, you raised me! You are major role models and have influenced the person that I am and continue to become. Thank you for constantly challenging me, even when I don’t want to use 95 pounds for my cleans during the workout because I’m too tired. For your high fives, and your constructive criticisms, for laughing at me and with me, and constant belief in my abilities these past two years. Thank you.

I was thinking about this post today and what I should write when reflecting back on my two years. This blog has been, since the beginning, dedicated to my complete obsession with this sport and how it has changed me. The first few posts were a little rough, and I will openly admit it! I was new to the blogging world and wasn’t writing it for anyone but myself. But now, these posts have found their purpose: To not only reflect on the adventures that I take my body through, but to hopefully inspire other people to find something they’re passionate about– literally anything– and let it completely consume them, mind body and soul, and build them up, and prove to themselves that they can always be better than who they were yesterday. This is what I have let CrossFit do for me, and I wish its magic upon every person in this wonderful world.

Happy two year CrossFitiversary to me, now go do something great today!

Sending self love,

Maggie

Finding Beauty in Strength

If there is one thing I have learned from CrossFit it is that no body is the same. No body looks the same, moves the same, lifts the same, runs the same, carries weight the same, metabolizes the same. To think that my body will ever look like Sienna Miller’s is completely ridiculous.

Some women are “blessed” with the thigh gap. They don’t have to worry about chaffing when they walk in a skirt or planning their next bathroom stop to use baby powder to relieve a little pain. They don’t have to worry about unsticking their legs from each other with no one noticing every time they’re sitting and they’re sweaty. They don’t have to worry about pulling down their shorts from riding up the second they start to move in them. But I still say, fuck the thigh gap.

I used to daydream about the thigh gap. It was my goal, though I had no idea how to get there. But when I started CrossFitting, I realized it just wasn’t in the cards for my body to have a thigh gap. It wasn’t how I was made. And I am finally okay with that.

To me, strength is beautiful. Strength in physical ways, but also strength in mental and emotional and spiritual ways. I find beauty in the strength that women, like myself, can say that they love the way their legs look in spandex because we can see the muscles that we have worked hard to build. Women who don’t wish we were a certain way because we accept their bodies the way they are, and understand that we are all created very differently.

This is why I love CrossFit. It teaches healthy habits. It teaches both women and men to learn to love what their bodies can do. Walking into a CrossFit gym, I am a badass. I have muscle, I carry myself with confidence, and I have absolutely no thigh gap.

Now, that’s not to say that if you have a thigh gap that you are unfit or not beautiful. (You actually are extremely lucky that you don’t have to deal with chaffing.) The point of saying “fuck the thigh gap” is to say it on behalf of those women who wish they had one; who have yet to accept their bodies for the amazing machines that they are. I only hope that one day they can say it with me.

And if you need any more inspiration, here’s Elisabeth Akinwale on just how bad ass your thighs can be. Cheers!