Peer Pressure

This all happened because I am easily persuaded by my friends.

The story goes like this.

I have a baby via C-Section.

My friends/ Gym Owners come visit me in the Hospital.

They tell me they are hosting a CrossFit Competition for Moms only in November.

They tell me I will be ready.

They tell me to sign up.

I listen.

(Sidenote: Never let anyone tell you to do something when you are heavily medicated.)

So, this past weekend, just 4 weeks after I set foot back in the Gym, I took part in a Mom's Only CrossFit Competition.

Let me draw a picture of the scene for you.

Close your eyes (but keep reading), and picture 54 taught, toned, tanned, strong bodies, in tight pants. I say "pants" because they were for sure all wearing some form of pants, shorts, or sport kilt; however, not all of them were wearing shirts.

I mean, if I looked like them I wouldn't wear a shirt either.

Hell if I looked like them I would be the sole pants-less person at the Competition, these Mom's looked that good.

And then there was me... the 55th competitor, in all my "just had a baby and have huge milk jugs," glory.

Let me also tell you that the second I walked into that Gym I felt about 2 feet tall... and 2 feet wide.

Don't worry, this depressing story full of high self esteem (ha ha), does have a happy ending.

I did all 3 workouts, and didn't come in last place... close, but not last.

I was the newest and only Mom there who had recently had their abdomen cut through in order to pull a person out... no big deal.

I couldn't do all of the required movements because my abs still haven't healed, but I did what I could. And while I did it, I could feel myself wanting to cry, and die; and die and cry.

The order changed, but the feelings of exhaustion and pain did not.

Trying not to cry.

So there I am on the floor, attempting my one millionth push up and I hear something.

Although I thought for sure it was my shoulders collapsing under the weight of my milk mammoths; it was actually my friends, cheering me on.

Trying not to die.

Not just one or two of them, all of them.

They were screaming their freaking heads off. Actually, that is an understatement, they were going freaking mental is more accurate.

And every time I heard my name I pushed a little bit harder, and went a little bit faster.

They believed in me when I sure as Hell didn't believe in myself.

They had been by my side for 9 months of pregnant work outs.

They had been with me in the Hospital, and now, they were with me on the mat, pushing me through the pain.

They wanted me to succeed, they wanted me to do well, and when I finished (and didn't die)... they were so proud.

I heard my story go around the Gym as I gasped for air, and drank all of the water in the ocean.

"C-Section...new baby... 4 weeks back...."

They came to me one by one; friends and strangers, and offered their encouragement, and support.

They told me I was inspiring.

Me, the only person in the whole Gym who had cellulite and whose thighs touch (you think I am kidding, I am not)... inspiring.

Who woulda thought??

They smiled at Ladybug, asked how I was feeling, watched me nurse between workouts, and hugged/held me up when I nearly collapsed at the end.

The support was endless, and so overwhelming.

It took everything I had to not cry that day.

Not because my body hurt like Hell (it did)...

Not because I was embarrassed to come in near dead last (I was)...

But because I was so touched by the compassion I felt, by the kindness of my friends, and non-friends.

People surprise you sometimes.

I went into that Competition thinking I would be judged by my weight, my shape, my lack of muscles and fitness. Instead, I was praised for showing up, and giving it my all; no matter how much or little that may have been.

Just being there was enough.

In the end, my score, times, and ability really didn't mean shit to me.

I didn't win an award, or a trophy. I definitely wasn't the fastest or best athlete there. But I was there.

And that is what I will teach my daughter someday.

It's not about being the best, it's about doing your best.

It's about showing up, and giving it every last thing that you've got.

It's about leaving it all on the mat; about being good to others, and lending some strength, when they have none of their own.

Me, with the best prize of all.


  1. So proud of you! You inspire me every day; and I'm not just saying that 'cause this is YOUR blog. You're awesome!

  2. I've got a few tears going. And a whole bunch of goosebumps. What a beautiful lesson for Ladybug.

  3. What an amazing story!!!! Good for you!! I have a competition this weekend and I will re-read your blog several times. Thanks again and god bless you and your beautiful ladybug!!


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