Bifocals and Barbells

I hope that everyone has “that thing” in their life that gets them zen-ish.

Our lives are crazy full. We are way over stimulated, and the demands for our time continue to increase. I worry that we are missing out on the ability to just be still. 

To be still means different things to different people. For me, stillness comes from activity; engaging my body so my brain can rest. 

But, it wasn’t always that way.

I wasn’t the most productive youngster. And I was successful at being unproductive even before internet. After school time usually consisted of grating a potato, frying that mess, and eating the whole thing slathered in homemade fry sauce. 

Luckily, I didn’t have a heart attack in my teen years. 

I ran. Once. My dad asked me if I was being chased. Seriously. 

In my early worker bee years though, things started to change. I started to play softball. Very poorly, but I was out there in my matching shirt and for an hour all that was really expected of me was that I keep my eye on the ball. That was it.

It wasn’t possible for me to worry about the thing (whatever that was) AND keep my eye on the ball. Maybe some can, but engaging my body for that activity took away my brain’s power to derail me. I really do suck at softball, but I was hooked in how it felt to think less.

It’s not so much my thing now, but being active still is. A hard day has a much better chance of slipping away from me if all that is expected of me is to do the rep, walk the cardio, cook the dinner, crochet the beard, or whatever resets the mind body connection. 

I’m not saying my zen-ish works for everyone (have you considered CrossFit?), but please make space in your life to nurture whatever is yours. 

I was going to write a post for International Women’s Day, but it took me longer than anticipated to get ready for the event. #LadyJoke #HighMaintenance

The importance of role models doesn’t end in childhood. And, a role model is a role model no matter how often you talk to them. They are so important, and we should all have many people that we can look to for inspiration about how to be.

This morning, I was surprised to see that two of my role models have sons who graduated from CHP academy this week. I didn’t know that these two influential-to-me women had this common connection. But I was not surprised to see how well their family’s are doing.

Cindy Morgan was far and away one the the best things about grad school. Thankfully, she’s not scared off by quirky folks. I’m nearly certain the first words I said to her were “So,…do you work out?”

I have many fond memories of her and I walking up and down the 7 stories of Butte Hall at CSU Chico on breaks from class. She was so masterfully balancing her roles as student, wife, mother, and employee. She added collegiate athlete to that roster and slayed on the water ski team at and age that I wouldn’t disclose without prior written consent. All this was done with an incredibly positive attitude and great kindness. I honestly don’t know how she did it.

Cheryl Zambrana is also not scared off by quirky people. Cheryl kindly referred to be as her beat partner, but I respectfully call her Alpha Mom. There is nothing in this world that Cheryl wouldn’t do for her family. Cheryl can move heaven and earth to benefit not just her family, but our entire community. It’s more than fascinating to watch her masterfully conquer any task for the greater good, coordinate an event for 1,000 people on a budget of $10? Sure! Nourish a whole team of growing young men? No problem! Bringing others along to make sure they’re giving back to the Eagle Family? Easy! There is literally nothing that woman can’t do. Literally, no task set to her that isn’t met with a cheerful “I’d be happy to.”

The world is a better place for these two women being in it.

I’m not at all shocked that these two women have mommed all of their respective boys into the great young men that they are. It’s also not a surprise that that they’ve raised sheepdogs (I’m pretty sure this is a compliment for peace officers. Buuuttttt, …I best google that. Yup!)

Thank you both for your inspiration, and huge congratulations to you all! And, uh,…hopefully your boys never have to write me up for my window tint. #ThugLife

I like to try to cram as much as possible in to every day. This has it’s upsides. It’s too early to really remember what those upsides are, but I know they’re out there.

It also has it’s downsides.

I hear it a lot around the office. “Just one more thing.” The call of my people as they try to do just a little more before they head home for the day. Trying to get a leg up on the next day.

The challenge is, there’s always more than one more thing. Parkinson’s Law of Triviality says that your work will always expand to fill the amount of time you have available. (Trying to sound smart there. Did it work? Bwah ha!)

My interpretation of this law is that time needs to be maximized in efficiency. (Ironic side note: I was NOT AT ALL efficient in spelling “efficiency.” Throw me a bone, Siri!) We all have 24 hours in a day, but how we spend them varies greatly.

I try to focus on doing the things that are my version of what I HAVE to do before taking on the things I WANT to do. I say “my version” because a)everyone’s version is different and b)a wise man once told me the only things we really HAVE to do are eat and shit (thanks Dad!).

I screw up a lot when trying to cram in too much. I’d like to say that I was never late to work because I felt the need to empty the dishwasher as a part of my busy morning. Or that I’ve never had Parking Structure Rage when waiting behind everyone else who also is trying to leave and restore their work/life balance. I’d like to say those things, but I’d be a liar.

With varying degrees of success, I try to give myself permission for these blunders. Please share your hacks with me if you’ve figured this out.

It’s great that there is more than one right way to parent. It’s also challenging, becuase there’s a lot of room for interpretation, and sadly no blood test that can be performed to let you know if you’ve done it right.

Sooooo,….I guess a mom/dad has got to look for other signs if they’re on target.

Sure, you could look for yelp reviews on your parenting, maybe spend your days comparing yourself to others “What is Billy’s GPA?” “Which mom brought the best bake sale goodies?” “Why does Susie’s mom look so well rested?!” “SERIOUSLY! Why!!!??”

If you know me, you know I’ve spent a lot of time being “that guy.” Completely true story: for 6 months I had a race with a neighbor about who could get our kids off to school first. She didn’t know about this race, which didn’t help my parenting self-esteem when I lost, but that didn’t stop me.

I’m continually trying to let go of those comparisons. Trying to find alternate ways to know if I’ve done my best at parenting. With the young men in my house, uncovering those indicators is kind of like an Easter Egg hunt. One of those really hard Easter Egg hunts where they have big cash in plastic eggs. Not coins, cash!

Here’s some of the signs I’ve dug deep for recently:

Danny laughed at my joke. It wasn’t even a little bit of a courtesy laugh

Dirty asked me if I wanted the last banana. He didn’t take it and then leave the peel out for me to trip on and break a hip, he ASKED me if he could have it.

Dirty picked up that banana peel after only a day of prompting.

Sure; it’s a short list, but I’ll take it. They are great humans. You hear that well-rested Susie!? Now, what’s the recipe for those cookies. I want to see if I can make them better.

Any love song can be a song to your barbell if you really want it to.

I was at the gym. CrossFit. Not the side gym. Or the other side gym. The box. Each of the places I spend time to try to be healthy has an important, unique role. 

For me, in addition to the functional fitness, I go to CrossFit to drop bars. Of course I only do it with the appropriate weights. And also of course, I’m very dramatic when I do. 

Drop it like it’s hot. Drop it like I’m a something-Dottir Non CrossFit readers…feel free to google Sara Sigmunsdottir, Annie Thorisdottir or Katrin Davidstottir. Only they lift real weight. I lift little weight, but still ghost bar that thing like it’s 300 lbs. There’s a very cool feeling that comes from taking something heavy, putting it in the air, and then giving it back to gravity. The sound alone will make me feel stronger. It’s all in my head, I know. But it doesn’t stop me.

The other day, doing some hang cleans, appreciating the sound of our work, and my darn bar kept dropping farther away from me. Coincidentally, whatever moving music had a line about “why do you leave?” Or something like that. It reminded me that many songs can be odes to your barbell.

“Baby, why don’t you just meet me in the middle”

“Ain’t no crying in the club”

“Who hurt you?”

“I like me better when I’m with you”

This relationship has some pitfalls. All do, and require work if they are to thrive. But as for now, me and my barbell are growing as a couple. So check it sad break up songs….you can not be about barbells. 

Today there was a conversation about that wonderfully unique time Of life when some kids decide to try to reinvent themselves between 8th grade and freshman year. I’m not sure entirely what drives it, but now that I’m through with it, it’s fascinating to watch. 

Teens, much like humans, want to know where their tribe is.

For me, I was bent on being “punk”; a far reaching goal for a middle class kid growing up on a ranch in Cottonwood. 

I remember my undercooked brain making very conscious decisions to try to be noticed as weird, but still feeling like I was going to get found out as being poser weird. (Hey, brains really are still developing at 14,..cut old me some slack). 

My world revolved around it. Choosing only to listen to music that hardly anyone has ever heard of, trying to wear as many rubber bracelets as possible, making sure my bangs hung in my face, intentional sullen looks, fuschia pink highlights, the whole nine ridiculous yards. 

Putting in my best efforts. Wondering if I passed.

Then it happened! I was at Carl’s Jr on Cypress, wearing my finest “I’m weird” regalia, right down to the red beret. The employees were having a judgy conversation. With disgust; one said to the other, “We’re getting more of these punkers.” She curled her lip and gestured…towards me!!!I’d made it!

In those days, I was pretty sure that no one else was struggling to find their niche. Turns out, lots of teens want to be different just like everybody else (bwah ha!). 

So, if you know the kids doing weird shit as teens to figure out who the heck they are; ride it out. They may be tomorrow’s quirky adults in the making!

3. That’s the entire number of prompts needed for me to try a blog. Well, technically, one prompt and two “yea”s. So, yea…I’m like the Rock of Gibraltar up in here when it comes to peer pressure.

I’ve never blogged before, but I’m usually not short on words. Some of those words are even clean.

If y’all are interested, I’ll happily share my unsolicited thoughts on a number of subjects. Preliminary entry ideas include gems such as “Arthritis and Hook Grip” or “Don’t Box Jump with Bifocals” or “Instant Pots and Crockpots: Not All Heroes Wear Capes”

If I’m hitting the mark in what I think of blogging, reading will result in maybe a little entertainment, maybe a little motivation, and a lot of permission to be your version of okay. If those fall short, maybe a watermark for how not to be. (i.e. “Whew! I’m feeling a little undone. Let’s check in on Adams and see if she’s off the tracks more than me” bwah ha!

Allright Bonnie! Get to following! 😏