Extreme Danger...May Die Today

The other day I saw a post on Facebook that said something like “Even if a bitch aint one…99 problems is still a lot of fucking problems.” You know what? That’s like, REALLY true. I have approximately 4 problems, one of them being that I can’t find my favorite pair of tights, and I might kill myself at any moment. If I could slowly chip away at my problems until I had none, I would be as happy as Obama motorboating Blue Ivy at a Marxist themed luncheon. But even if I did manage to find my tights, stop watching the Kardashians for 5 hour stints, and get a record deal…I just don’t think there is anything I can do about my NUMBER ONE PROBLEM IN THE WORLD…coyotes. There are so many reasons that I hate coyotes that I think a list is the best way to go here….ughhh…I am ready to puke….

REASONS I HATE COYOTES

1) WTF is a coyote? Are you a wolf? Are you a fox? You know what…I don’t care what you are because I already know that you are FRICKEN DISGUSTING. Your face looks like the guy from Boardwalk Empire and your body looks like Mary Kate Olsen on all fours.


2) They are obsessed with me. If I am driving at any time other than the middle of the day, a Mary Kate will run right in front of my car looking all tense and freaky. If I am on my porch with my beautiful, little Millie, they are clomping around in the woods waiting to eat her and barf her up (bulimia.) I mean, I can’t even sleep with the window open without them banding together and yipping like one of those weird naked African tribes right outside my window. Once I saw one stand under a streetlight until I looked right at it and then it ran away. Dick.


3) I can’t do anything about them. You can’t shoot coyotes except for during a certain time of year and you can’t shoot within 500 feet of a house. So basically, you can all just pretend I have AIDS because eventually one of these assholes is going to maul me to death in my own yard. It just makes no sense to me that this predator is allowed to roam around and we can’t even get super drunk and shoot them out of our bedroom windows. I equate my current real life situation to the hypothetical scenario of being locked in a room with the Craigslist Killer. In this scenario, I am just sexy, awesome Haley and the Craigslist Killer is a psycho, scrawny murderer, but the big twist is that he is also “protected.” We have to live in this room together, and he has guns, knives, handcuffs, obviously his Red Sox hat, and he is incredibly ready to cut off my underwear and shoot me in the face. I, on the other hand, only have the option to sit there and wait to die. Think about that and tell me my life doesn’t suck.


4) Daisy Simpson.( Daisy Lachey?) Say what you want about big, fat Jessica….that dog was cute and a coyote ate it. That’s like, really sad.


5) NOBODY BELIEVES ME. I will admit, the amount of coyote encounters that I have is bizarre, BUT IT’S THE F*CKING TRUTH. At least once a week I see a coyote, and at least once every other night I hear them. I come running inside and say “ I just saw 2 coyotes in the street!!!!!” thinking that it’s a big deal and we should call 911. Nick just stares at the TV and lets the Peruvian drug lord with the blurred out face finish his interview and then says “ It was probably a squirrel.” OK maybe I have more problems than I thought.


I hope this post clearly explains to you all that I am in severe danger. If anyone has any coyote advice, I need it. In the meantime, I have been noticing that a lot of my Facebook “friends” don’t really seem to have their acts together at all, and I have a job for one lucky lost soul. You can be my coyote bodyguard in exchange for life/wardrobe advice. We will have such a great time and it can be our little secret. That’s a lie, I don’t keep secrets.

I cant figure out how to attach photos! Sorry! I am a big idiot.

Here I Am!!!!

I decided to come back with a bang. I want to talk about politics. Well, I should rephrase that. I want to talk about how I want to punch Uncle Sam in the dick when people blow up my newsfeed with political bullshizz. You all need to stop that. Facebook is for judging people who have babies out of wedlock, not summarizing congressional hearings. How people haven’t figured this out by now is beyond me, but it’s a damn good thing I am here to set you all straight.

The first issue that I have with posting about politics on Facebook is that it’s BORING. I am not saying that paying attention to politics is boring because I think it’s important to be informed, but nobody cool is reading your stupid article about how Al Gore has a tiny penis. I might read that.

Aside from being boring, posting about politics creates problems. It almost always starts some 45 comment long chain of 2 people (Nick Ray and faceless individual) going back and forth and hating each other at the end. And while the two debaters hate each other at the end, everyone else wants to murder them around comment #3. Get a grip. Post about cats.

Another thing that really grinds my gears is that the people who post about politics are usually posting something negative. “Obama sucks, Scott Brown sucks”…you know something YOU suck. Be positive or be canceled from my newsfeed and trust me you DON’T want that. If I hide your updates because you are sitting there smiling like an asshole and posting articles about how Ron Paul farted on Tuesday, I am not going to see when you actually post something good and leave you an awesome comment. Suck on that.

I think what people don’t realize is that when they try to post articles making an entire political party look ignorant, THEY are the ones who look ignorant. You can’t generalize like that. Some people vote the way their parents vote and don’t care to question it. Some people are followers, go to college and become super crazy liberals that even regular liberals hate. Some people vote based on what the president looks like. Most people don’t vote at all, so why can’t we just be happy that some people actually put down the crack pipe and go to the polls in the first place. I put that crack pipe down and never looked back. Maybe I looked back a few times. But for real, if you really want to post about politics so bad that you might die, why don’t you just invent politicsbook.com and don’t f*cking invite me to be on it? Yay!

I know I might have just left a lot of you thinking “ OMG..what should I post about if I can’t bore everyone with the details of Elizabeth Warren’s pap smear?” but don’t fret my pets. You can always post about the following topics: Chipotle, marine mammals, JonBenet Ramsey, most shows on TLC and anything to do with Precious. Those always get a guaranteed “Like” from your very favorite blogger.

Welcome back to myself!

Reflections of the Traveling Pants

I know that I have been ignoring my blog. I really am sorry about it too, because I know what its like when a website that you check all the time stops being interesting. I have a rotation of sites I visit that includes, Facebook, People.com, Craigslist (missed encounters m4w and pets), and my gmail. I would be absolutely pissed if people stopped putting up posts to find “ women in ford Explorir looking hot on root 9,” so I get why you are mad. I have been doing a lot of traveling which cuts into my time to write, but creates so many chances for reflection. So I will reflect. This is me reflecting on variety of topics...

Anthropology

There are no black people in Wyoming. Not one. Also, there are no black people in Iowa. I don't really know what would happen if one showed up, but now that Hootie is a country singer, we should be finding out any day! I can't wait!


Cuisine

You cannot get a black iced coffee in any state in the Midwest. You can make your own black iced coffee at gas stations in the South, but in the South there is an invisible line between normal suburbs and the ghetto and you NEVER know when you cross it. You can be driving along looking at white picket fences and before you know what is happening you are surrounded by 3 legged dogs and Cutlass Supremes with 24 inch rims. Be selective about where you purchase your self service coffee when you are below the Mason Dixon.

Also, the best food in the world is in the Northeast. We are so spoiled here in Boston with delicious Italian food and fresh seafood and Big Jim Melanson. I mean maybe you can get some good BBQ in the south and tons of corn in Iowa, but the staples (burgers, breakfast, anything Italian, margaritas) are the best right here in New England.

Exercise

Working out alone sucks. I have worked out alone in hotel gyms as well as hospital gyms. I have visited two other CrossFit gyms, and all the people have been just as nice as they are at my gym. Not as weird or as loud, but just as nice. Also, despite popular belief, other CrossFit gyms are not places where every single athlete is elite and better than you. In fact, they are absolutely full of fatties and weaklings and geriatrics. You're a star!


Hotels

Hotels are f*cking disgusting. I dont touch the comforter and try as hard as possible to not walk around barefoot. They all bake cookies and think that it makes up for the fact that 16 homeless men had an orgy on the comforter that you are now cuddling up to your face. The clickers are covered in all kinds of disease carrying fluids.

Hotels are also lonely and sometimes scary. For some reason, I always find myself at hotels that are also occupied by large groups of traveling construction workers ( I dont even know.) They drink Miller Lites in the parking lot and stare at me with their dirty fingernails and poorly wiped asses. A nice reminder again, of who/what was wrapped up in my blankets before I checked in.




Air Travel

Oh here is where the fun starts. Where should I begin. First of all, a plane ride is a bad time to breastfeed. There are pumps for that shit. Bring a bottle. Especially when you are in the middle seat and I am in the window seat with a bladder full of my last black coffee for 5 days. Get a grip.

Second, if you know you are a loud breather, dont travel. I cant deal with it. I can only wear headphones for so long before the insides of my ears hurt and then I am forced to listen to you breathing like an asshole. Just stay home if you cant control the volume of your nostrils.

Third, dont eat on the plane if you chew like a donkey wearing a mouth guard. Thats all I will say about that.

Finally (and most importantly) if you are over the age of 6, take all your giant shits before you get on the plane. Adults should know their schedule. I stand FIRMLY by my belief that unless you have food poisoning, a stomach flu, or took 15 laxatives, you should know what time you usually have to go. No adult should ever have to be at a party and take a crap. Or on a plane. Or at a beerfest ( I got into a fight in a port-a-potty line over this.) Its just RIDICULOUS that any adult would expect me to believe that their shits sneak up on them at any possible time. I will never change my mind on this. F*ckin people.


And there you have it. This is what I have learned from traveling the country. Wyoming is awesome. Iowa is not so awesome. South Carolina is similar to Brockton. Planes suck. Hotels usually suck. I wish I had some more worldly things to say, but I don't. I drove all the way to Yellowstone and didn't have any money to get in. I think that sentence is a wonderful analogy for my whole life.


SEE?????

Christmas is Comin'

Its cold. Well, Its kinda cold. I love it. I am happy to say goodbye to summer. The summer makes my hair look like Little Richard.

Anyways, the cold weather reminded me of Christmas, which reminded me of something I need to talk about immediately. Christmas Cards. I dont know how to tie this into health, so I will just say that you are reeeeeallllly effing with my mental stability when you send me a Christmas card, SO PLEASE SAVE YOUR MONEY AND LEAVE ME ALONE.

First of all. Unless you are legally married or have been together for so long that people truly do not know if you are married or not, DO NOT, send out a Christmas card from “us.” Because GUESS WHAT? Its not from “us.” Its from the girl trying to show all her friends that she has a boyfriend and move the relationship faster then it needs to go. If you get one of those, consider it a threat from a lunatic and immediately panic. This is a clear warning that when this relationship goes south (which it will), you will either be friends with a dead person or a murderer. Cut these assholes out of your life NOW.

If you are actually married, and feel the compelling need to waste your time and money sending me a Christmas card with no money in it that I am going to just rip in half with my mouth and punch a wall, FINE send it. BUT DO NOT INCLUDE A PICTURE OF YOURSELF. You are a grown adult. So is your husband or wife. You are not cute. I have Facebook, I can see in 775 different pictures that you are just as ugly as always. For the love of God, NEVER SEND ME A PICTURE OF YOURSELF. Its weird and I am going to hate it.

That being said, I dont mind pictures of kids. If they are cute its nice and if they are fug it gives me a good laugh. Likewise, animals are fun. A nice picture of your kids in front of a Christmas tree doesn't piss me of that much, but if you send me a picture of your baby painted like a candy cane coming out of the ass of your antler wearing dog, I am going to cut you out. Or just cut you.

I want to end by asking, WHY WOULD ANYONE SEND ME A CARD ANYWAYS? I am one of those people that offers nothing. There is nothing that you, as an individual, need from me to get ahead in your own life. Send a card to your boss. Send a card to your in-laws who hate you. Don't send a card to me. You don't need a loser like me judging you.

Swedish Fish and Despair

Look, I know I haven't blogged in months, so everyone can stop reminding me. I am pretty sure that you have never written one blog post in your life so shut the hell up about me not posting for two months. I was conjuring up a list of ideas for a post that will blow your little minds. I lost that list, so you get to read this bullshiz....Enjoy!

So far in this blog I have blabbed on and on about the benefits of Paleo and Crossfit as if I just had this perfect,indestructible life of exercise and animal flesh where nothing could ever go wrong. And thats how it was for awhile. But, sometimes the smallest inexplicable shift in your brain can change your mindset toward things, and thats what happened to me recently. Without completely giving up, I gave up. Here is my story. Get the tissues. All donations to my credit card bill.

I went off the deep end. I just got into this weird 3 month funk where I became less of a Paleo/CrossFit machine and more of just a normal human (gross.) I extended my beloved “cheat day” to two, and then three, and sometimes even FOUR days a week. I lost my competitive drive in the gym which is baffling because I still couldn't play Wheel of Fortune without screaming and standing up (even when I was by myself.) I was burnt the f*ck out, and I just didn't know how to handle it.

The major problem was that I thought I could do whatever I wanted because I wasn't a fat mess. Lalala, I'm a size 4, I can eat 1000 Blizzards..BOOM...I'm Christina Aguilera but slightly less trannylicious ( I HOPE.) All my shorts from last summer look like they would fit an infant. I would go to the gym to try to work off this extra “bloat” as I called it when I was in denial, but working out is hard with a belly full of sugary little red fish and my times on workouts were just getting worse and worse. Instead of leaving the gym feeling great, I would sit in my car for ten minutes after a WOD wondering if I had let myself go beyond repair. I felt stupid for caring so much, and it just became a vicious cycle of overeating and underperforming. I was on the path to becoming a mega fatty and I needed a good punch in the junk ASAP. Unfortunately, that never came, and I was forced to realize the truth. I am the conductor of my own life, and the fatass train is stopping here.

I wish I could say that some major event triggered me to get back on track, but my life is too boring for that. Luckily, the mundane act of waking up every day feeling like the fattest, ugliest loser on the planet for 90 straight days was enough to do the trick. PLEASE DO NOT WRITE ME HEARTFELT MESSAGES TELLING ME NOT TO KILL MYSELF. Fat, skinny, tan, pale, bloated....I will always be obsessed with myself so chill the f*ck out. I think everyone, (and I will say women especially, although that may offend any extra sensitive men out there,) at some point goes through a phase where they just negative self talk themselves into the ground. Life wouldn't be life without ups and downs, but it it would certainly be a sad life if you didn't take advantage of the downs and use them to fuel your next up! This sounds like a informational pamphlet on how to be a drug addict.

Alright. I'm done. I just wanted to write this post to explain why I haven't blogged in awhile, and also to put the message out there that EVERYONE feels bad sometimes. If you are currently sucking at everything, its OK! Take some time and sit for awhile in your own misery, but when you are good and ready, slap yourself across your fat face and declare that you are ready to kick some ass. Everyone feels like a burning bag of dicks at some point, but you gotta take the advice of my man Jerry and just keep truckin on. He was a fat f*ck and even he managed to pull it off for awhile. I have only been back on track for 4 days and I already think I have graduated from a drunk and puffy Christina Aguilera to more of an extremely motivated, pregnant, ostrich. HOORAY!

CrossFit Northeast Regionals 2011

Congratulations to Dawn Marie, owner, coach and friend to everyone at CrossFit508 for finishing as the 21st fittest woman in the Northeast at the Regionals last weekend!

All of my BFF's showed up to eat, drink (shhh), and cheer on the competitors in the strongest sun ever. Seriously, my face is peeling off.

DM told us that her judge asked if all that cheering was only for her when she was out there doin her thang. It was. We are really loud. And cute as hell.


PS: You didn't think I wouldn't mention good ole "No Rep" did you? Shout out to Dawn for judging all day and getting some sick new Reebok sneakers for her efforts. She has to know she will never, ever, live down that reputation.


YEAH BUDDY!

Don't Worry....Be Freakin Happy!!!!!

I am wondering why self help books are so popular. Its almost as if people don't even know what they like. This makes me think that I am doing OK in life, because if you came up to me and said “ Haley, what do you like?” I could tell you in ten seconds. Even though I technically asked this question to myself, I will tell you anyways. I like the following things; food, blankets, hilarious people, writing, pretending my cats can talk, gum, headbands, sexy ass men, CVS nose drops, sleeping, and my own strange sense of fashion. While we are on the topic, here is a severely shortened list of things I hate; dolphins, Anne Hathaway, Bacardi, Tyler Perry's House of Pain, technology, people from India, huge ugly earrings that match your shirt, calamari, coffee flavored things, outspoken liberals, standing in a weird crowded bar pretending its so fun, and people who fake laugh at the end of every sentence. There are way more, but it could get offensive, racist (more so than it already is), and maybe even illegal, so I will end the hate list there.

The point of this is, I KNOW what makes me happy. There is never a day when I wake up from my 15 hour slumber and wonder “ Hmmm...today I think I will put on my best matching shirt/earring combo and go out for a nice calamari lunch to discuss welfare policies with Sheryl Crowe.” No thank you. If I want to be happy I get some gum, slap on a headband, and go to the mall to buy more gum and headbands. I don't need Dr. Phil to tell me that I would enjoy a nice shopping spree more than hanging myself in an elementary school playground. You people are so lost these days. Just do what you like and shut up about it. Great, now I am all worked up.

So this blog is my declaration that I will never buy a self-help book in my life. Nobody can tell me exactly what makes me happy except ME. At the beginning of 2011, I posted about changing my life to cut out all the bullshit. Well guess what? I did it, and this year has been awesome. I took a look at what I liked to do, and I did it. Now I am skinnier, stronger, happier, my boobs are way huger, and I feel good about who I am as a person. Not one of those things is a lie.

The greatest part about this is, technically this is a self-help blog and you just read it. So now I think you are a big freak. But seriously, anyone who knows me I think would agree that even though most people bother the living crap out of me, I am pretty happy with myself. Not in a self centered kind of way, more in the sense that I am not going to sit around and bitch about hating life but do nothing to change it. In a world where few days go smoothly, happiness is a choice. Its your decision whether you want to smile through it, or declare yourself depressed and buy some dumb book because you have a dead car battery and explosive diarrhea. I say bring on the f*cking diarrhea. If its true that you only get one life, spend it doing what you enjoy, not waiting for some asshole with a book deal to tell you what you like. And that's all I have to say about that.

Hypothetical Fun

Sometimes I think God hates me. I don't hate the rain. When it was raining for one thousand days, I didn't care that much. Toward the end I realized it was making me hungrier and that was upsetting because I don't need to get fatter, but overall, the eternal monsoon did not bother me so much.

But now that the sun is out, I realized how much of an impact the weather has on my mood. I am smiling and talking and sweating...its wonderful. But then, just when I thought things were going so swell, God remembered that I am not allowed to enjoy anything and gave me the worst case of PMS in the history of hormones. I apologize to the male readers out there, but I just need to get this out. I can't stand the sound of anyone's voice. I didn't bring a lunch today and the cafeteria is serving FLOUNDER. Nick's face makes me want to blow up the house. I am on the brink of mass murder. Happy Memorial Day weekend!

This post really has nothing to do with the weather or my womanhood at all, that was just an expression of raw emotion and passion. The real post is about something I noticed the other day that needs to be discussed in this blog because it pissed me the f off.

So lets create a hypothetical situation here...Anyone who knows me knows I love hypothetical situations so I am really pumped about this. OK, so in this scenario you really want to make some money so you can be ballin and put some sick rims on your ride. After countless hours of brainstorming, you come up with the idea that you are going to walk around with a 30 pack of Keystones and offer one to any homeless person who is willing to pee in a bucket. Then, when you have a big enough supply of rancid piss, you are going to sell the idea to grocery stores as an energy drink. We will call it...Golden Shower.

After a few weeks of urination station, you actually manage to convince some stores to carry Golden Shower. However, sales are not what your expected and your car still only has 3 hubcaps. But then, miraculously, you receive a call from the FDA. They want you to know that homeless people are now much happier in major cities all over the country because not only are they getting free beer, but this whole piss business is making them feel like they have a purpose. The FDA wants to cut you a deal. They get a portion of the piss profits, and in exchange, they are going to fund 75% of your Keystone purchases and consult with YOU over the design of the 2011 Food Pyramid. Hepatitis Martini anyone???

The point of this story is, you would have people sucking homeless piss for breakfast, lunch and dinner if this really happened to you. And even though this particular scenario may never happen (yes it will,) in a way this is EXACTLY what is going on in America today. I saw a sign in my work cafeteria called “2010 Food Guidelines” and it went on and on and on about the importance of whole grains. Further inspection of this sign revealed that it was a product of General Mills.BULLLLLSHITTTTT. Whole grains are the Golden Shower of General Mills. They would have to be mothereffing idiots to not include as many grains on that sign as possible. Grains are not healthy, they are a business. A humungous business that the government makes big bucks off of. Thankfully, I am here to tell you this so you can become super smart and awesome but still not as pretty as me. I'm not a miracle worker.

Grains suck. That's the bottom line. So next time you go to eat your stupid “heart healthy” Kashi crap, think about Golden Shower and yell “hell no!” and punt the box out the window for the homeless people. I am pretty sure they will appreciate the excitement because they aren't going to have much to do until I can save up enough quarters to buy some Keystones.

Life Lessons From a True Genius

I made up a phrase and people hate it. NEVER have I had the experience where I used this phrase on someone and they were like “ I get it, that makes sense. You are so beautiful and smart I want to take you through the Dairy Queen drive-thru so many times.” Nope. Everyone hates it. I made up this phrase as a way to respond to people when they ask me why I so often prioritize exercise over fun things like binge drinking and unprotected sex with strangers. I say “ You have to give and take. And you have to pick and choose when you take.” I get the feeling that when I say this, people start to feel awkward because they don't ever really say anything back. This will have no impact on my use of this phrase.

Admittedly, this little saying could use some work. I mean, people aren't going to put that in their Facebook profiles with tons of :) ***** <3 <3 **** around it. But I have never been one to try and please the people, and I think that this phrase relays the point I am trying to make quite well. YOU CAN'T JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANT ALL THE TIME. Maybe for one year you can, but eventually it will catch up with you and you will just be sitting there all alone staring at your fat body and empty bank account and probably wondering “ why did this happen to me????” I can tell you why. BECAUSE YOU'RE AN IDIOT.

We all know that eating is fun. We all know that drinking is fun. Put the two together and I am showing up even if I wasn't invited. I had a brief stint where every single day my life was a party. I lived at home and had a shitbox car, so all my money was extra and I was ready to spend it on Twisted Teas and Applebee's (rhyming.) You know what happened to me? I got fat, I got acne, I saved no money, and LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING...beauty aint on the inside until you are 50, divorced, and on Match.com just praying not to die alone. When you are 22, fat and drunk, you could be the funniest, smartest, coolest (I am all of these things) girl in da hood, and the homeboys don't give a shit.

MORAL OF THE STORY. You can't take all the time. Its like a friendship...if you never offer to be the designated driver, you're a shitty friend. Likewise, if you just drink booze and eat nachos and never take care of your body, you're a shitty human. OK, maybe that's a little extreme, but you certainly aren't doing yourself any favors. Especially in the long run. If you are binge drinking and overeating throughout your twenties, even if there isn't any visible damage now, who knows what problems will result from your lifestyle later down the road! Odds are, if you are spending all your time boozing out at the clubs you are pretty self absorbed, so what exactly are you going to do when you start to get the alchy-face and are too fugly to shake your ass in VIP anymore? Oh, the horror.

I'm not perfect. There are plenty of Saturdays where I am looking at an empty bottle of wine by 10pm and I am talking about the big bottle. BUT, if you rewound 24 hours back in Haley's Life Tape, you would see me refusing millions upon millions of offers to go out and drink so that I can go and get my swell on at the gym. Friday night and Saturday morning, you will find me at CrossFit508.And yes you read that correctly, I really do drag my gigantic, lanky ass out of bed on Saturdays at 6:15am to exercise. And that is called giving, my little blog followers. This way later on, if I do decide to take from the plethora of pleasures that this world has to offer me ( usually in the form of wine, pizza and gummis,) I can feel a little less like a fat, lazy, slob.

Give and take. You gotta give and then you can take. You should always give more than you take. Any way you word it, this phrase sucks.

Festivus Recap: Long and Delightful

So, this past weekend I competed in “A Festivus for the Rest of Us” at CrossFit Relentless in ghettolicious Hartford, CT. Since I know that a lot of people who read this blog are still confused about what CrossFit really is, I thought “ What better way to describe what CrossFit is all about than to recap this whole event and embarrass all my CrossFit friends?” So here it is. “Festivus for the Rest of Us: According to Haley.”

I have to give Dawn Marie (owner of CrossFit508) credit for her approach in asking us to take part in this event. She told us about it months in advance, which was a genius way to get us all to sign up. Everybody is brave when something is months away. But,as the day of the competition drew closer and closer, the Facebook posts started flying about how fricken nervous we all were. Everyone started really honing in on training hard in that final week before the competition, and I THOUGHT everyone was going to have their eating in check. Boy did I overestimate everyone (including myself.) Maureen ate 5 Guys, Nicole had an ice cream, and I had 13 munchkins the day before. We may not be perfect, but we are fun.

Anyways, on a regular day at CrossFit508, I get yelled at for talking and not doing what I am supposed to at least 500 times. If you think that is bad, I am surprised that Pam is even allowed to come back. We just have a lot to say! But in that half hour before the competition started, it was like you were at a school for the deaf. We were all making crazy faces and pretending to focus on stretching, but really we were all petrified for what was ahead of us...a 2k row for time.

If you have never done a 2000 meter row for time before, I would not suggest doing this ever. As part of our Paleo Challenge back in March we all were required to row 2k, so we were FULLY aware of how bad our lives were about to suck. Maureen went first and set a 51 second PR which was awesome to see. I think she just wanted it over with because she had to stare at William on his crutches screaming at her the whole time. Nicole was next up with a major PR as well. I made the mistake of yelling in her ear that she was halfway done, which is something nobody wants to hear in a 2k row. You want to be ALL done. Then, after watching everyone sweat, pant, and grunt, it was time for Janet, Pam and myself to get on the rowers. We all lined up, cute as buttons, right next to each other and, just like Maureen and Nicole before us, we all hit new personal records. The pictures from this scene are terrifying. I have jelly rolls, we all have red faces, and its just a hot mess. But hey guess what? We rowed 2k as hard as we could and you didn't, so whatever a-hole.

After the row, I think everyone calmed down a little, and we all walked around on our numb legs for a few minutes before the next event. In the next workout,we had seven minutes to achieve a maximum weight deadlift, and I was planning on throwing up a Hail Mary for 250. I secretly thought that if I could pull that off, it would be the best female deadlift of the day. NOPE. Some chick pulled 300. And a bunch of other girls were working with what looked like WAY more than 250. These heats were small as weight plates were limited, so there were several instances where we didn't know anyone in the heat, but cheered them on like freaks anyways. We are just that nice. And I think we all have ADD and will take any opportunity to scream at someone.

Anyways, just like the first event, EVERYONE hit personal records on their deadlifts. I was so happy to get that 250 that I high-fived my judge about thirty times and now he hates me. I actually got 255 up, but I am an idiot and dropped it which is not allowed so it didn't count. Nobody from 508 was surprised that I did that. Bitches don't give me no respect.

At this point in the day, we were all feeling pretty good about our personal records, and I don't think anybody had their panties in a knot over this last event. It was just straight up CrossFit: 4 rounds for time of a 400 meter run, 20 kettle bell swings, and ten box jumps. No reason for panic there, we all had done those things a million times. We were so ready.

YEAH RIGHT. I watched Maureen go first and I could tell by her face that she was wishing for death. She kicked ass and got through the workout like a champion with her little ponytail flowing in the breeze, but I could see it in her eyes that this was going to be worse than I was anticipating. By chance, Nicole, Pam, Janet and I all ended up in the same heat which gave me a little bit of comfort. This was familiar to me. I work out with these idiots every day. We have the even bigger idiots on the sidelines cheering us on. What could go wrong?

Oh, A LOT. First of all, on that first run I knew things were going to suck when my legs felt cemented to the ground. Poor Sage standing down at the 400 meter mark must have gotten so many terrifying looks from the runners as he yelled out things like “ You can catch her!” and “Last round!” I am sure when it was over everyone appreciated the cute little kid yelling inspirational quotes at the top of his lungs, but at the time all I could do was look at him and gasp “Oh my god!” He's a Crossfitter, he understands.

Every single 508 athlete finished those 4 rounds without walking once. Not a sign of giving up on anyone's face. We all trotted along and never stopped, no matter how badly we just wanted to lay on the ground and be done with it. A lot of this is owed to our 508 cheering section, who screamed at me all 8 times I ran past them during that event. Put a little spring in my slow, pathetic step. I mean I really am surprised that my legs still worked at this point. Maureen, Pam, Nicole and Janet...you know what I am talking about! AND,my shoe came untied in a Brian Ray moment of shoe malfunction. God that last workout was a bitch.

OK, if you are still reading at this point you need to get a life right now. This is the longest post ever. I am really not trying to beat this day to death, and talk about how great it was over and over until everyone wants to murder me, but it really was a very special day. I think that we all went into this competition with some level of self doubt, but we all ended the day knowing that we are capable of more than we think. Again, thank you to everyone who came out to support us, and to all the coaches who put up with us when the gym seems more like a kindergarten classroom than a gym for adults. If you told me five years ago that I would be competing in a fitness competition I would have laughed and then yelled at you for interrupting my phone call to Dominoes. I owe so much to CrossFit and all the people that have come into my life because of this sport. And I think I am just going to end this here with one gigantic YEAH BUDDY!



Quick and painless.




First one to hit the final WOD. Look at that form!



Hey asshole, don't drop that.



Elegant.




I really like these boots.