27th August

To  find a place inside myself where nothing is impossible.

To draw strength from my core, to do things always with love.

To go one step further. And always one step further.

To know that ego has no place in the grand scheme of life.

To uncurl the fist and let the things that don't matter go.

To grab on to the things that do.

To hold it with a vise grip.

To find strength there and not be afraid to begin again

And again and again.

To trust in wherever the journey will bring me.

To discover, create, recreate my truth.

And in the process become a better human being. 

For my boys. For myself. 

For the love of my life.

For the people who love me.

For the people who I love.

To be grateful and always be grateful.

No matter what. 

Thank you, Crossfit.

Thank you Universe 

for Crossfit.

Five Things

July 1-4, 2014.  Four days straight. I accomplished my elements classes at Crossfit Pintados Cebu. To say that it was one of the most fulfilling experiences in my life is an understatement.

When the heart is full, it spills over. All over. Where do I start? Five things. Five things I learned.

This is the beauty of Crossfit. Or at least what Crossfit brings to my life.  It enables me to ponder, mull over, then apply. Reflect then live out. The best way I know how. And yes,  it fuels my love for words.

So, five things.

1. Fall softly, quiet yourself.
2. Push yourself from the ground.
3. Keep the bar close to your body.
4. Engage your core.
5. Fear is on the other side of life. 

Fall softly. Quiet yourself. 

Everyone's favorite. Burpees. When you land, land softly. Quiet yourself. Drown out the noise outside and inside your head. If it's burpee day, face it. But one thing's for sure, it won't get any easier if you keep on complaining and yapping. And you can't get through it if you you allow yourself to be drowned out by the noises: It's too difficult. It's too hard. It's so tiring. Why were burpees invented? Who the hell invented burpees?

So if you have to get down on that ground, go ahead. Fall. Your body may thud thunderously, but quiet your mind. Once you get this down to the letter, you can gather strength, the necessary strength to spring back up and hear the one noise that you need to hear, "One!"

Whatever challenges come my way, I need to quiet the negative voices saying, "Oh no, another one?" I need to silence my mind. Reset. Begin to breathe new breaths. With every new breath say, "Yes! Another one. And it's okay. I can do this." The challenge has been set. No use spending unnecessary energy on the why's. Just get down on the ground, gather strength from the quiet and spring back up with the solutions. And hear yourself say, "One!"


Push yourself from the ground.

When doing push-ups, push yourself up from the ground. Start from the ground, not from a plank position. Not up. That's why it's called a push-up not a push-down. 

"Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life." -J.K. Rowling

Life becomes so much more valuable when we lose it. By life, I mean, love, people, things, the muse, beliefs. There is no beauty in having it all. There is no beauty in perfection. There IS, however in struggle, in loss, in the process of overcoming, in kissing the ground, falling face first on the ground, with mud and grime on your face,  and then in the rebuilding.

Yolanda. And other Yolanda's. Rock bottoms. Plenty of them. Many more to come. It doesn't matter. What matters is I know now that all I need to do is to push myself from the ground. Keep pushing myself from the ground. Fall down, get back up. Down, up. Rebuild. Over and over again. And each time, learn something new. Every single time. With each new lesson, become stronger. Become more. Become better than who and what I already am today.


Keep the bar (olympic bar) close to your body.

Yellow elements. Lifts. Keep the bar close to your body. Lift it straight up. No rainbow-ing. Every inch away from the body is several pounds heavier.

There comes a point where one realizes crap doesn't deserve a space in a life anymore. Crap- some material things, issues, people, beliefs that are of no use, that don't make you a better person. You realize the true meaning of the adage, "Be yourself." Stay true to who you are. Stay close to those close to your heart. To whatever beats in synchronicity with the tempo of your heart. All else? Run away from it. Push it away. Because it's just deadweight. You don't need it. Remember what is important. Focus on what matters. Keep the bar close to your body.

"Run my dear from anything that may not strengthen your precious budding wings. Run like hell my dear from anyone likely to put a sharp knife into the sacred tender vision of your beautiful heart." -Hafez


Engage your core. 

Sit-ups. Push-ups. Pull-ups. Kettle bell swings. And all else. Generate power from your hips, from your abs, from your core, not your limbs. The limbs get tired. Easily. Strength from them wears out fast.

"Duty makes us do things well. Love makes us do things beautifully." - Zig Ziglar

There is no such thing as too much beauty in this life. We need more of it, even. Passion. Spirit. Heart. Don't do things half-assed. And by ass of course I mean the beast that's your heart.

Fear is on the other side of life.

The 10 kg kettle bell. The 12 kg kettle bell.  The 8 kg wall ball. The burpee. The olympic bar. The run. The plank. The 20" box. The sled.  My entire body weight. All of this, new to me, scary to me. Will I be able to carry it, swing it,  throw it,  pull it, lift my own weight?


I visited my papa's grave. Engraved on his tombstone is his favorite passage from Psalm 23.

"The Lord is my shepherd. There is nothing I shall want."

When Typhoon Ruping struck in 1990, I remember my mom and aunts repeating this over and over in prayer.  I was 10 years old. Until now, I could remember how the wind howled.

This was the psalm I chose to be read on my wedding. To say there are numerous uncharted waters in a marriage is just icing on the cake.

When Yolanda struck, I remember faintly chanting Psalm 23 quietly as I held Morgan in my shaking arms, Garret right behind me with confusion in his eyes, Andro bravely checking the rest of the house, thrown by the fierce winds but thankfully unharmed, as the ceilings collapsed one by one.  I do not remember how the wind howled. But I remember how the fear in my ears screamed like geese.

The night after Yolanda struck as we were doing our best to settle into fatigued sleep, I remember berating God. "Why?  Unsa may sala namu nimu? Have we failed you so greatly that you have to inflict this upon us?"

I was angry. I was scared. What next? For my boys. For myself. For my family.

Anger and fear.

These two are very powerful emotions. But they are only as powerful as the permission I give to them to be powerful. Yes, I need these two emotions. Because to be human is to feel all of it. Weep for all of it. Not just the happy parts of life. But the will to overcome is what is important. To overcome is what is important.

The only way to conquer anything is through it. Not around it or over it. Through it.

Fear is on the other side of life. And life is what I want. While I am still living.

"to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you've held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again."

-Ellen Bass-

So now, a resounding yes to kettle bells, lunges, sleds, box jumps, push ups, pull ups and all else I haven't had the pleasure of encountering yet.

Five things. Five pieces of affirmation:

To quiet strength.

To embracing imperfection and rebuilding.

To courage and grace.

To passion and love.

To life. 

A sixth one to sum it all up beautifully:

Here's to the beauty that is Crossfit.

The Beauty of All of It

Barbie on Crack.

8 box jumps
8 10 kg kettlebell sumo dead lift high pull
8 walking lunge with kettle bell (10 kg).
AMRAP 8 mins.

I was no barbie. Let me rephrase that. I was NO barbie. And I definitely needed more crack. This was my tired rant after last Saturday's WOD.

I scored 4. As in four pathetic reps in the 8 minutes.

And it seemed not a part of my body was not shaking right after.

A day after, my right arm ached. Two days after the left arm ached. Ached as in thank God for warm compresses and lacrosse ball massages and good old Salonpas (Methyl Salicylate l-Menthol Tocopherol acetate dl-camphor) patches. The cashier at the convenience store asked, "Unsa na ang naa sa imong bukton, ma'am?" (What's that thing on your arm?) I whispered, "I'm not 18 anymore. And this is what happens when you push your 33 year old body to do things you wished you would have done when you were 18." The cashier laughed.  I laughed too.

Because laughter is the best medicine. For bodily aches and psychological aches a.k.a pride.

And why was I at the convenience store? Apart from doing mama duties buying supplies for the boys, I was hoarding additional Salon pas patches. I am laughing as I am typing this.

It's Thursday now. No workouts since Saturday's WOD. Because I needed to recover. Because the body needs time to bounce back. Because there is a time for pushing oneself to the limits and a time for resting. Because one needs to reflect, to mull over, to simmer. Because one needs to be able to pull back, step outside the picture so one can see better. With fresh new eyes. With a renewed sense of determination. A clearer perspective. Because one needs to breathe in all that is good and bad and painful and let out one deep breath to expel all as well. So that one can be reminded of what is important. What is real. What is not. Sift. Re-sift. And grasp only what matters.

I admit. When the pain in both my arms still didn't subside three days after, I was scared. Scared that my body just gave up. And that that was it. Scared that I wasn't made for this. But it did yesterday. My body just needed time.

There is a time for everything. No need to rush. All things come when one is ready.

There is beauty in the breaking, in the undoing, in the mending. All the more in the waiting.

Immerse. Pull back. Sift. Re-sift. Repeat.

When does it stop? It doesn't. That's the beauty of all of it. 

In the Aching

June 11, 2014


"Be a celebration unto yourself." - Osho

My personal coach a.k.a dear husband was easy on me today. 7 kettle bell swings eye level and 7 rings to chest. As Many Rounds As Possible (AMRAP) in 7 minutes. I scored 8 plus 2 rounds.

"Not bad again", he remarked to me. The "again" referring to the Monday "WOD" where I thought I would die in the first rep alone. Blame it on the burpees. 

Today was a good workout. Considering I was emotionally drained from the work at the Center. New muscle aches will come tomorrow, for sure. And I find myself looking forward to it.

I am learning that it is in the aching where the healing begins.

And I am learning to celebrate myself. The little victories, progressions and most of all the various kinds of pains, aches of the heart, mind and body.

Formidable

Nemesis. \'ne-me-ses\

noun

Def. A formidable and usually victorious rival or opponent.

We all have one. We all meet one. Sooner or later.

Of all the "monsters" I have had to face in my life. I think I may have finally encountered my very own formidable opponent. It wasn't the agonizing labor of my first-born, and the eventual caesarian section and the succeeding searing pain in the scar as it healed slowly nor the subsequent  c.s. section of my second-born either. Nor was it the molar extraction I recently had. Nor was it the engraving of my boys' name on the flesh of my ribcage.

Two words. BUR-PEES.

Seemingly harmless, even comic word/s. Don't be fooled. It will wear you down like a mule. It will parch you dry as dry as the most arid of deserts. Not that I've been to one. It will create warring voices in your head that spins your left and right hemispheres out of control that make you cry out in exhaustion. No, not cry out as in "AAAAAH". I mean weep. Like fighting for every ounce of your strength weep.


But this afternoon at 5:30 p.m. I confronted the damn monster.  For the very first time. And I tell you it  certainly wasn't love at first sight.

If the internal reprimand on myself that went, "Why are you punishing yourself? Why the hell? What the hell?" is any indication of how the "first encounter" went, then you would know the entire story.

7 Wall Balls. 5 Burpees. As many reps as possible within 7 minutes. The seven minutes seemed like an eternity. But come to pass it did. And no, I did not pass out. I almost passed out.

Three days ago, an acquaintance asked me how the husband convinced me to do Crossfit. For those of you who may not be informed, suffice it to say that the husband is the outdoor, athletic one. Me? The total opposite of him. This was my answer to the question: "With everything that has happened, Yolanda and all else, I think everything just fell into place, meaning, I realized that I cannot afford to be weak when our boys need me to be at my best all the time. It's not enough that I am not unhealthy. I have to be better than healthy, stronger, more efficient, better than who I was before. If we can live forever for our boys, we will. But we know we can't. So this is our gift to both of them.

But, man, while I was doing the second rep of burpees, I could almost hear myself saying to my boys, "Can I give you another gift instead?"

The truth is, while I'm doing the WOD'S that Andro prepares for me, I cannot even think of my boys. Because with every  10th sumo dead lift high pull, every 5th burpee (I know, pathetic), I am at war with myself. The heaving and gasps of breath and sweat running down every nook and cranny of my body doesn't even come close to explicitly expound the battle I have in my head. Voices in varying decibels, the sharp and not at all considerate kind screaming at me I cannot even hear One Republic and Bono blaring, cheering me on in the background.

When I finish the workout, that's when I can think of my boys. My Garret and Morgan. I look at them playing with the water hose in our garage. Yes they play in front of me as I work out. And I don't know why but even as I collapse from sheer exhaustion, when I see Garret's eyes crinkling in delight, when I see Morgan's cheeks happily puffed up pink, I still manage to smile in spite of the battle I just fought with myself.  And a gentle and crystal clear voice inside my head resounds, "This is the answer to your why."

And this is when I am reminded that the pain I allow myself to go through with every WOD, is nothing, NOTHING compared to the struggle that my boys deal with with the world every single day. "Wa ra ni sa kiting", we say in our language.

This is what drew me to Crossfit. The breaking of one's ego. The purposeful breakdown of one's bravado. Because at the end of every workout, you literally fall on your knees. Weeping. Puking. Weeping. And once you're broken for the day, you see light. You gain insight. You are reminded of what is really important in life. You find out your why.

And then you retrace your steps and start all over again the next day for a different set of body breaking, ego-stripping exercises.

With every set, you get stronger. Better. Sharper. Humbler. More graceful. More discerning. Perhaps you may even be as formidable than your opponent. Maybe  even more victorious.

My WOD score: 5 Rounds + 2 Wall Balls. Within 7 minutes. Not bad, my husband says. "Really." I reply, part disbelief, part wanting to believe. But, belief won over. For self-preservation's sake, whatever ego I have left. (Wink!)

So to you, Burpee(s) (yes, it's actually just one word), you may have broken me today. You may have earned the title of "nemesis" in my dictionary today. But tomorrow and  the days after that, I'll be the one to hold that title. Four words.

FOR.MI.DA.BLE.


"I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life... to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." - John Keating quoting Henry David Thoreau in Dead Poet's Society

To Becoming Human. To Soreness.

"Be a human being. Celebrate your soreness." -Kelly Starrett

If my heaving, groans and gasps of exhaustion are any indication that I worked my severely out-of-shape ass off this afternoon, then I could be almost a quarter of what Kelly Starrett spoke of-- becoming a human being. As to celebrating soreness, I certainly am learning how to. With every 20th push-up, every 30th sit-up, every 10th pull-up and every 40th air squat. And clearly more of these and who knows what else in the coming days.

This soreness, this pain that I allow myself to experience adamantly reminds my lungs how they like the sweet taste of air, compels me to embrace life in every muscle stretched, in every joint and ligament awakened, to find and grasp with a vise grip that last ounce of strength down to the deepest most cellular core even when my body is screaming, "No more! No more!" To know life in every breath. To. Be. Alive.

To New Adventures. To Second Chances. To Life.

November 11, 2013. Three days after Yolanda, we evacuated to Cebu as our house was ripped apart and the living conditions in our city proved to be impossible for our two boys. In the days that followed, our lives changed dramatically, abruptly, tremendously.

The overwhelming weight of the reality of it all was too much to bear. But we bore it. With the love and kindness of family and friends. With the humanity of strangers from foreign lands, we were able to bear it.  One day at a time. We began to rebuild our lives, our house, everything that nature took its wrath upon.

Rebuild. To build again. To pick up the pieces and put them back together. To discard useless shards of whatever. To carry only what matters.

How does one start rebuilding? How does one begin the mending? The healing? I have no answers. All I know is that six months have passed and we are here now.

And all I know is that  we survived Yolanda, Haiyan, a rose by any other name. And the days that followed.

If there is one singular lesson I have learned from everything we have been through, it is this: To remember what is important.

What is important? What is my greatest truth? My boys. Garret and Morgan.

To survive the typhoon is to realize that I have been given a second chance at being the mother my boys deserve. To know I have been given the opportunity to do what I have been procrastinating to do for so long-- to make life an adventure, to make life a work of art, to live my life as a work of art. To be art. To be alive.

So yes, I've been attempting to work on my physical strength and stamina. Call it staying fit. Building strength. Recreating, reinventing my body. Crossfit. Something that is way out of my league, out of my comfort zone. I am not athletic by any means. But I have an able body. And muscles. Somewhere. (Haha.) And I have two boys who depend on me. Who will grow up to be bigger than me. Who will need me to be very much alive and, forgive the cliche, kicking. So I'll take any pain thrown at me to be the mama my boys deserve. And when the pain gets too be too much that it'll make me want to give up, I'll remind myself that today I am stronger than yesterday. And today was the yesterday I was afraid of, I was uncertain of. But today I am alive. And the kicking will come real soon.

So to the pathetic 22-pound kettle bell, to the sore muscles I did not know existed, to the joints and ligaments lying dormant for so long now awakened and stretched like hell, I will see you again tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and the next and the next. And I will work my butt off to do another 3 reps of ten lifts of you, darn you, with 3 reps of ten air squats and lunges, pull-ups and box jumps, even if it takes three shirts soaking wet and my breath going in and out hard and fast like I have never breathed before.

How does the rebuilding begin? How does one start the mending? The healing?

Could it be in the sweet delicious ache in every part of my body? That pain and that moment where my body is screaming "no more, no more!" Perhaps, this is where the healing begins.

So here's to new adventures. To second chances. To living my life as a work of art.

Here's to life.