Comparison is the thief of joy; don't compare yourself to others, only to yourself. I've told myself these words dozens of times, and most times I believe them. So, when I catch myself comparing to others - noticing who's better than me, losing more weight than me, prettier than me, stronger, faster, smarter - I try to pause and remind myself that the only useful competition is me against me. Am I doing better than I used to? Am I being the best that I can be? The problem with this tactic is that, sometimes, when the answer is "no" the letdown is even greater.

What happens when your best isn't good enough? When you compare to what you did last time, or couldn't do last time, and still you see no improvement? What about when you just can't do something, and it's not for lack of trying? You get into a pretty funky headspace, that's what.

The tire pulls struck again. The last time I wrote about stacking tires and dragging them behind me with a fire hose like a pack mule, it was also a Friday. I believe I dropped a lot of F-bombs and finally quit on the last one. So, when Mat had us start out with that very same exercise this past Friday, I knew it was redemption time. I had come in to the morning Outdoor Fitness Challenge with the mindset that I would give it all I had, take it super seriously, do what was asked and not make "can't" or "no" part of my vocabulary, get a great workout, but mostly just offer a strong performance. I was in a great giddy mood, wide awake, with a four-day weekend looming ahead of me.

Three steps in and that all changed in an instant.

Stuck. Again. For some reason, I can't figure out how to hold the fire hoses, how to wrap them around me or get them to hang over my shoulder just so, in order to get momentum to pull the tires. The other participant had no problem. She just took off and trucked along, making it to the end and back before I could even move a few paces. Same thing happened last time, only EVERYBODY could do it except for me.

I got mad.
Like, really really really mad.
At what, I don't know. Myself? The tires? The ground? Mat, for making me do something he knew I couldn't do? The unfairness of life itself? Doesn't matter. It wasn't rational. It was just the temper that I'd learned to control in most situations coming to the forefront, and I saw red.

This was now a fight to the death and I was going to win against those tires. More F-bombs flew out of my mouth and I raged as I adjusted the tires and the hose, desperately trying to just figure it out and make it work. The top tire kept falling off the pile. Finally, I stopped, threw the ends of the fire hose down, and looped it through all three of the tires together (it had only been looped around the bottom one, with the other tires piled on top; standard set-up which worked for everyone else). The problem with losing your cool and getting frustrated is that losing control often makes things worse, and just as Mat cautioned me to be careful with the fire hoses that still had the nozzles on the end, I whipped them around and knocked myself on the back of the head. Ouch. Didn't care. Re-adjusted, tried to use brute force to keep moving forward. The tires still toppled, and I had to go back and stack them up, and I swear if I could have cut them into little pieces and hurt them, I would have.

By this time I had barely made it to the end of the parking lot, and the other participant had long since finished and was waiting at the other end, with Mat. They were too far away to see or hear my face or words, but I'm sure they knew the point I was at, by my body language. The top tire just wouldn't stay on the pile, even though it was looped with the fire hose, and I got vengeful. I wanted that tire GONE. The problem is, there's no fast way to pull a rubber hose against a rubber tire, and even trying to take it out became an added level of frustration. Once free, I chucked that tire to the side and kept going with two tires, glaring at Mat the whole way. Threw the ends of the fire hose down with a satisfying clang of metal hitting pavement, and growled "no more of that drill. Done."

He looked at me. "Go get the tire." I looked back at him, huffing and puffing and sweating. Staring showdown. In his best stern parent voice, he repeated, "Go. Get. The tire." I wanted to argue, to say, "piss off" or "no, YOU get it" or "I'll get it at the end when we clean up" but I could also feel the tears coming and knew that a walk back across the parking lot and away from the others was probably for the best. Angry tears fell. I got the tire, and again hurled it as hard as I could, off to the side, when I got back to our starting point. It landed against the fence, close to where we pile the tires, and it might still be there, because I refused to touch it again.

Fortunately, Mat didn't expect me to. On the next round, we worked together to pull the pile of tires, and then the sledgehammers came out. Let me tell ya, I channeled all my rage into bashing the hell out of the tire. I was able, technically, to do the rest of the boot camp: push-ups, presses with the fire hose, waves and squats and a gazillion sledgehammer slams. Some zen-like balance work at the end, with eyes closed to challenge our senses. I did it all, but the damage was done from the very first drill. The mood was tense. I didn't talk, didn't want to look at anyone, and the script in my head was very different than the one I usually have.

"What's wrong with you? Why can't you do what everyone else is able to do? How come you're not getting any better? Are you stupid? You suck. Are you even doing this right? Slam that sledgehammer faster, pick up the pace, you're not even on par with everyone else and you're supposed to be better than this. Seriously, you can't go any faster than THAT? Your form is wrong. The hammer is bouncing, control it. Can't you do anything right? All you have to do is stand on one foot and hold your knee up for a second, and you can't even do that. You suck. You suck. You suck. You're trying your hardest and you still can't do it. Why aren't you getting stronger, getting better at this stuff? You're all talk. Poser. Fitness Pretender. What if this is as good as it gets?"

In the end, I still got a good workout. I kept going. And I did everything Mat asked of me. From his outside perspective, watching me, he said that it was good. That's because he couldn't hear what was in my head. To me, everything I did was wrong. I sucked.

So, once everything was cleaned up and put away, I just got in my car and left, mumbling something about having a good weekend. I was not out of the parking lot before the sobbing started. All through the balancing portion, when Mat had us close our eyes to remove one of our senses (and, as he explained later, to keep it just about ourselves, remove any other competition), I was glad for it because if anyone had looked closely they'd have seen my jaw and lips trembling, and when I opened my eyes the tears that had accumulated behind the dam of closed eyelids dropped onto my cheeks, mixing with the beads of sweat.

It became a life-lesson kind of day.

This is where I have to give Mat his moment of glory, because it was in the debriefing and reflective discussion that he truly shone, and the difference between personal trainer and fitness coach was apparent. A trainer might have let it go, or followed up during the next session. I was only home for a few minutes when I heard from Coach Mat. He followed up via text. "How are you feeling? Do you want to talk about it?" He combated just about every one of my arguments about why I sucked, with what he saw. "You are capable of achieving incredible feats. You have to be willing to look them in the eye and say 'yes I will,' and you did. I didn't see the tires falling, or the rock that was stuck under the tire. I saw your will of fire, the 'fuck this I am going to do it no matter what, even if I have to toss a tire in the grass' which, I might add, was quite impressive." Okay. The last part made me laugh and disarmed some of the anger. And "will of fire" sounds so much more poetic than "RAGE" doesn't it?

During the back and forth texting, he asked "You didn't quit, did you? You tackled what I asked you to do?" And that struck the nerve that this post is based on. When do I stop using that as the fall-back platitude? When do I say "not quitting" is good enough?

When we met for lunch to discuss the morning more thoroughly, I explained to him that my thought process is "well, if I can't be good at X, I'll be really really good at Y." Through school, it was "if I can't be good at sports, I'll be an excellent student." Which worked, most of the time, for motivation and dedication. I hung all my pride, all my hope, on being smart. I put all of my emotional eggs into one basket, so to speak, and when you do that and the basket breaks, you're pretty screwed. When I'd fail a test (and I did, occasionally, spectacularly), or somehow "lose" academically, I never really dealt with it well. That's what happened at Outdoor Fitness Challenge. I have put all my eggs in the "being strong" basket, thinking "well, if I can't be thin or pretty, I'll just focus on being really strong." So, when I'm not, I lose my cool.

If I had written or posted this immediately following the boot camp, the ending would have been something along the lines of "when does 'at least you didn't quit' stop being good enough?" That can't be the default platitude every time I have a bad workout or a temper-tantrum meltdown. "At least you didn't quit."

But is simply not quitting really so bad, if you're trying your best as you keep going, even if you're not actually GOOD yet? After the texts and the lunchtime conversation to debrief the day, as well as the distance and perspective provided by a good night's sleep, I feel a little differently about it. I still think I could and should be doing better. I expect more of myself. But, no matter how good someone is, nobody has 100% success rates. Sometimes, you DO suck. Aiming for 100% is okay if you don't truly expect to get there. Success rates vary from business to business, but none are ever close to 100%. When I worked at camp, we had incredibly high expectations of staff because these were children, people's most valuable possessions left in our care. In a cabin of 10 kids, if 9 had a great experience, that 90% success rate was not good enough because it meant that one child had a terrible or traumatic time. But 100% is not realistic. No matter how good I am at my job, I can't help every patron find the right book for them, every time. No matter how great a teacher is, they will not impact every single student in the same way. And no matter how awesome a coach is, he will have some clients who don't reach their goals. Still, for those of us who expect a great deal from ourselves, we continue to aim high, despite the over-reaction of anger and frustration when we fall short of our reach. There is a fine line between giving 100%, and expecting to attain 100%.

Maybe that's the only way to get better: just don't quit. I can't afford to put myself through the emotional hell that I did yesterday, every time. But my arms and legs can tell you that they definitely feel yesterday's workout today! Mat's last text sums it up: "You did good Barb and I'm proud of what you did today, even if you're not. You completed a workout without quitting, you smashed the shit out of that tire and regained focus, you did good. Now accept it and remember, next time you will crush it even more."

He's right. I can't compare how I performed one time with how well I performed a previous time. Factors change. All we can do is give our very best, every time, and hope that "better" eventually comes.

So, I guess I've answered my own question. When is your best not good enough?
Never.

Antecdotally, we know that exercise improves mood. I've talked about it. Others have explained it. Brain-based science has demonstrated that the body's endorphins are increased and released after exercise. Which is also probably why doctors recommend exercise to patients with depression.

There is now evidence that the dose of exercise impacts the effect on patients when it's prescribed for treatment of depression, whether it is in conjunction with medication, or instead of. In a Psychology Today article called "Dose Matters: Exercise as an antidepressant" it was found that the groups in the study who did exercise alone, or exercise with medication, had lower relapse rates than the group who had medication alone. Even when drugs are used or needed to treat depression, the effects are longer lasting with exercise. The amount, frequency, and intensity of the exercise makes a difference. "The magic numbers equate to 3-5 days/week of rigorous exercise for 45-60 minutes (e.g. jogging or biking, or using a treadmill or stationary bike)—similar to current public health recommendations."

It was also found that, as for "the benefits of morning bright-light exposure on mood and sleep quality, that an outdoor workout in the morning will augment exercise’s effect even further."

Hmmm. Outdoor morning workout, of rigorous exercise for 60 minutes, multiple times a week? Sounds like Outdoor Fitness Challenge (a.k.a. boot camp) to me. No wonder I am happier in the summer!

And here I thought it was all the beer-on-patios, backyard barbeque sunny days.
Turns out, tires and sledgehammers are good for much more than just building muscle.
They're the best way to fight off depression.

Which video is the best? You tell me! Vote for your favourite.

The Summer session of Outdoor Fitness Challenge started this week. The twice weekly, 8-week Spring session ended about two weeks ago. There were a few days when we had pictures taken, and I put them into video slideshow montages.

I just couldn't quite decide on which music mix to use, so I made 3 short videos. Feedback was that the pictures moved too quickly, so I added a fourth video which is longer, but lingers on each photo for those who want to see every drop of sweat or grimace of effort.

I'm going to leave it up to YOU to decide which one is the best! Watch them all then vote for your favourite. There's no real prize, here. Nothing more than sharing the videos with people who've heard us talk about the ODFC for the past two months. It gives us all a way of showing what we went through. As one friend who joined me for the drop-in option one morning observed, "Sufferfest was better than I thought." But it was still, some days, a sufferfest, and a camaraderie grew out of the shared experience: muscles that were sweaty, stiff and sore. And strong.

It's an outdoor boot-camp style of class, technically considered small-group personal training. I did it last summer, when it was brand new, and I was immediately hooked. So, when Mat offered it again this year, there was no hesitation for me to sign up (especially since it's the closest thing at the Y that can approximate training for obstacle course races, like the BadAss Dash). That friendships formed and strengthened was a bonus. It's one of the best things I can say about small-group training, in general: you get to know people in a way that you simply don't through classes or one-on-one training, but you also work with a personal trainer who can adapt a program for each participant.

Below are the videos. I hope they capture how much fun we had, while working our butts off.

Then, let us know which version you enjoyed the most!

You don't always see results in obvious or expected ways, with exercise. Especially if weight loss is your goal (or one of your goals), it's easy to overlook what is referred to as NSV's: non-scale victories. I've been so self-conscious, hyper-focused, and self-flagellating about the weight I've gained recently (from admittedly bad nutrition) that I've questioned the value of the classes, training, and fitness exercises I kept doing.

And then Outdoor Fitness Challenge began this week.

Now, it's been a year since I smashed ropes, planked with fire hoses, and flipped tires outside. I felt pretty darn out of shape, and showed up Wednesday morning with some trepidation. It was cold (like, November cold!). It was rainy. It was early. So, I was fully expecting to hurt - capital h, HURT - the next day. I felt my arms and legs, because that's what was deliberately worked, but I could still move. I didn't, like, want to die. And I was mildly surprised at that. Mat emailed the participants to check in and see how we felt after the first session, because he knew it was designed to be hard, that it was movements that even athletic and in-shape bodies might not be used to, and probably because he wanted to make sure nobody was so damaged they were going to demand a refund.

My response to him?
"So far, so good, for how I feel. What I notice most is the difference in my core. Last year when I tried battle ropes for the first time, everything hurt. I felt it in my back a LOT and was sore and stiff all over my whole body. Not this year, though! It’s the first time I can feel what it means to have core strength. It was more theoretical before, for me. Guess I was starting to question what good Group Core was doing me, since I’ve put so much weight back on, but clearly it’s helping."

This was an example of HAES (Health at Every Size) in real life. I was fat, and I was fit. The two were not mutually exclusive. And the work I'd been doing all along, even as my eating went downhill, came into play. The weight lifting. The core training. Body weight exercises. Some endurance. Cardio. It all came together so that I could complete an intense hour and still be able to function at work for the rest of the day. I was also able to train arms the following day (hello, triceps! yes, I feel you burning), and do this morning's early morning Outdoor Fitness Challenge boot camp.

Today, the tires came out. Holy Mother Trucker, they were heavier than last year's! Mat managed to get two rather thick truck tires with smooth treads. Not like the tractor tire with mud grooves that made it easy to grip, from last summer. Oh, no. These ones were slippery suckers that I had a helluva time lifting. It didn't help that it was another wet and muddy day.

It felt good, though, because it was a challenge. A very well-intentioned participant came to help me with the big tire that I was struggling with. I was like, "uh ... I need to do it. Myself." I might have given up had she not come over, just left the tire and claimed it to be too slimy to keep flipping. I wanted to walk away. But when she ran to my rescue she stirred the fire in me and I thought, "I am figuring out a way to DO this. Don't just work harder, work smarter. I'm not someone who needs assistance!" I realized that only one side was hard to grip, so at least half the flips were do-able. And the others? I compensated by using my whole body, my knee, my chest, and yes ... even the gut I hate so much came into play. It took all of me to lift and flip, painfully slowly, but I did it. There is now a new nemesis to defeat over the next few weeks! I'm gonna get good at flipping the big tire.

It was also awesome because there was competition. I forgot how much that drives me. I'm sore now, because I truly used my whole body in the final showdown of pushing the giant tire against an opponent, wrestler-style. We all had a chance to pair up with each other, so there were three rounds (since there are 4 of us crazy enough to get up at the crack of dawn). Some strategy came into play (including a fake-out, a deke to the right when she thought I was going left, and a rather opportunistic move on my part when a kind soul paused to ask if I was okay and I was like "yeah!" SHOVE). But I also had a formidable foe who was freakishly strong and I had to work for it to knock it down. It was deeply satisfying to hear "holy crap, you're strong!" from him.

See, I don't look like someone who's strong. I am often underestimated. Given the struggle I had with flipping the tire, it's no wonder there was some shock for him when it came to wrestling the tire against me. This guy knows I'm a slow runner, have bad knees, and has seen me in lots of other classes where strength doesn't truly come into play. I'll admit: my pride was pretty happy with hearing "wow, you're strong."

Because that's what fitness should be. It should be functional.
Fat and Fit.
Yeah. It's possible.

Even if - no, especially if - it's not visible.

If there was ever an anecdote to illustrate the reasons to keep going, even if you don't feel like you are getting results, then this is it. I don't know if I'm totally out of the mental rut I fell into; there's still the weight gain to deal with. But the fire is back. Because the workouts were working, even when I thought they weren't.

I found out tonight that Outdoor Fitness Challenge, or something similar, will be back again this spring and summer. Given the brutal and seemingly eternal winter we've been having, this seemed like as good a time as any to look back on those summer mornings spent in the parking lot of the YMCA.

Flipping tires.
Flicking battle ropes.
Carrying sandbags.
Pulling fire hoses while planking.

Feelin' Bad.Ass.

Running around the picnic shelter, over and under picnic tables, grabbing and chucking tennis balls in the grass, doing pushups off of tires, running ladder drills, hill sprints, and holding squats. Basically, doing whatever Mat felt like making us do. It was small group training at its best, and I loved it.

What worked for me was not just the size of the group, or the activities themselves. Don't get me wrong: they were hard, they were fun, and they were something completely new and foreign to me. The thing that worked FOR ME was that it was outside. We only had a few days of extreme heat - which often included freezies at the end! - and it was not a particularly humid summer. In fact, some of the very early mornings were a bit chilly. It felt ... well, it felt a lot like summer camp. Like getting up early, when the mist was still rising on the lake, heading down for morning dip. That's the feeling I got when I pulled into the parking lot for those early mornings. There was a bond, a comeraderie with the others in the group, the ones who'd dragged their butts out of bed to be there with you.

I spent some part of every summer between the ages of 8 and 30 at summer camp. It's in my blood. You bet your butt I loved the Outdoor Fitness Challenge. And I was pretty wistful and nostalgic when it was over.

I didn't fall in love with it at first, though. After two rounds of "Biggest Loser" (another small-group program), I was more confident, but I still had a moment when I emailed Mat and said, "um, are you SURE that I can do this? It's not going to be too much for me?" His reply? "Don't worry. I'll bring out your inner Ninja." Not exactly the reassurance I was looking for.

Sure enough, after the first day, I thought I was gonna die. Smashing battle ropes against the pavement for a few minutes burned out my arms out in a way I hadn't felt before! I think I said afterwards, "man, I thought I was in shape. I guess not." But this was simply a whole new level. And I was starting over from the bottom. By the time the 8 weeks had come and gone, I was no longer as intimidated by the kinds of things Mat threw at us. It was always still hard - or as hard as you wanted to make it - but I didn't feel like the Tin Man for days afterwards.

I have to remind myself that this is what I signed up for, with the Badass Dash. Those obstacles on the course will make a tractor tire and fire hose seem like a Fruit Loop and shoelace. But the training? The training for the race will be where the community happens, where nature and fitness come together once again. I hope that this year's training days and times will work into my schedule as beautifully as they did last year.

Now we just need the snow to melt and the sun to come out, already, so things can warm up.
Or the sun beating down on the pavement will remain a distant memory.


* I should note that this really WAS a group training, even though all the pictures are of me. I just didn't want to post photos of people who haven't given their permission. I wasn't the only one crazy enough to show up at the crack of dawn to get my butt handed to me. Honest.