33

I was born in 1978. This may come to a surprise to some people, like the student who recently said, "You're 30???" (No, I'm not) Or the people who guess my age as mid-20s. Or the woman who asked me if I was a student. Or the many servers who ask to see my ID. Yes, I'm 33. 


Jimmy Carter was president the year I was born.
I remember the Tigers winning the World Series in 1984. 
I remember talking about Tiananmen Square in the 5th grade. 
I was devastated when River Phoenix died (don't even get me started on Jeff Buckley).
"Nothing Else Matters" by Metallica was my class song (seriously, they expect me to go to a reunion after that?)
In my first election, I voted for Bill Clinton (I wish I could vote for him again). 
I didn't have email until college (and honestly, I don't think I used much email in college). 


But apparently, I don't look 33.
So what, exactly, does 33 look like? 


I looked through some pictures from 10 years ago, when I was 23, and even though I was kind of a train wreck at that point in my life, I looked all right. But I look younger now. A lot younger. I feel better. I may still party like a rock star once in a while, but I know better than to do it more than I should. (And I know that I should have the right people around when I do it). I have a better idea of what I want in life. I don't know exactly what I that is, but I'm getting there. I also know that if I keep doing what I'm doing, 43 is going to look Amazing.

In my world, this is what 33 looks like, and I am totally, completely happy with it.

Why Are We Here?

A few weeks ago, a friend gave me this magnet:

.

I was reminded of this while browsing through some pictures of me from a workout last week. And while there were some awesome and mostly terrible shots because SOMEONE looooves to take terrible pictures of me during my workouts, this one stood out to me as a moment captured in time.

This was during the Dirty Thirty. I'm standing there, scratching my head, thinking about how I don't want to do anymore wall balls. I didn't include all of the pictures of the ball actually at the line, or me in a squat position. I finished them, of course. I always do.


I feel like I don't have as many of these moments as I used to. Those moments where you look around during a workout and wonder, "Why am I here?" I've been having those before the workout. It's the holidays. It's the end of the school term. I'm tired. And I've been in kind of a nasty mood. BUT I still go. 


Tuesday I was in a foul mood. And I was tired. And I had rowing and push-ups ahead of me. But I showed up, did my strength work. Then we did the workout. And I did amazing. Who knew? My friend talks about the rush of endorphins we get sometimes after a hard workout. I felt that on Tuesday. I can do so many push-ups! I was so happy. Somebody take my phone away before I start telling people how I feel! 


And I wouldn't have felt that way had I not shown up.


This is a tough time of year. Winter here is grey and it is not good for me. And this is just the beginning. I won't feel awesome every day I show up. But even feeling it once in a while is better than nothing.


Are wall balls a metaphor for my life? It depends on the day. They hit me in the face sometimes. I often don't make it up to the line. I get reps taken away. But I also have to remind myself that I've gotten better over the past couple years and I'll continue to get better. There has got to be a better metaphor out there...


Edited to add that it is clear we need a CrossFit metaphor contest. Post your best to comments.