Current Projects.

Some of you lovely folks follow me on Instagram; so you already know this, but I have started a selfie thing...I realized I have sorta made myself the butt of jokes because I always hide in the back of group photos, or run from the camera, or ask people not to take a photo.  So after the game in ABQ, I am cruising Facebook and enjoying all the photos and I realize that people really DO listen to me....there really aren't any photos. And hell I hate most photos of me anyway. 

Then I got super bugged at myself.

So the selfie....

I read something years ago about how the rise in selfies actually helped people control their own image...how they are seen....through their own lens as opposed to the cultural lens of thin and young equals self worth.

So, I am a little old for this shit...but I am trying.  I only posted one so far that had a crazy filter on it.  Which was with my friend Robin, Jesus that made us laugh!  I even posted one today that was like a terrifying full body shot...

I've tried this before with a mirror, forcing myself to look in a mirror..but I dunno, I didn't shift the way I saw myself at all...but using this app to try to post a photo everyday for a while...of me is interesting.  Learning to just see...me.

Hopefully, I will graduate to posting videos of working out crap again too...

It's weird.  I am not sure what happened.  I mean, if you look through this blog...I have some great photos that I love of me.

Ok ok  Blah Blah Blah...  Look for me on Instagram,  if you wanna see my face.  @monamcgiggles

Second project for the summer?

Ready for this one?

Ready?

No, I am not going Vegan.

But I decided to cut out the booze, all of it, for the summer.  Yeah, right as games season started.  In fact, right before the game in ABQ.  Grant even said, you wanna start after the game?  Naw...there was a little voice that said..."Sober Summer" and unlike that other voice I wrote about last time; this one was me. And is kind and not an asshole.

It was starting to feel like a bit of a crutch. Oh I'm a little stressed, have some wine. Oh this is a little to hard to look at, have a whisky. 

So please, DO invite me out for a beer, but make sure they have good food...and I'll drive you home if I need to. 

Wrap Up

 Something about the number seven, isn't there?  This weekend was the "start" of my seventh year in the highland games.  It was a very different game in some ways, but...mostly the same energy, support, excitement.  For those of you who know me or have read this blog for a bit...at least at this game I had shorts to wear under my kilt.

The thing that struck me over the weekend, aside from the sheer number of athletes, was the numbers of throwers that were families of throwers.  It really was beautiful.  Couples, moms and their kids, siblings, siblings and their dads who judge, dads and daughters, and we all know the grandma, daughter, granddaughter, and dad too.

Before the game I had posted a photo of my son and I on Facebook from 2012 when he competed with me, boy do those days seem long ago and far away. 

There are always so many people to thank...that I know I will forget some...Chad and Lara getting this game grown to over 100 athletes....all the judges and the huge number of people who helped with set up and tear down and athletes who stayed an extra day on the field to mark...and fix those sheaf standards.

As for me...well, how was my game? 

It was a typical game...some good stuff, some not so good.  I wanna shout out to Mike and Teresa for pointing out some really shitty things I am doing when I throw, of course, they didn't say it that way...but yeah....the generosity is part of what I love about some of you guys.  I watched Sarah and Donna get this fierce competition going while also supporting the hell out of one another....go women's 70 class! And Michelle...I love that woman...She was there for my first game too...and I love the firm but gentle way she deals with mistakes...and her joy.

I realized something too...I am having major issues with speed and power.  I think tons of it comes from all the "guarding" I have done as I heal from shoulder and elbow and knee and heart stuff.  But, I think I am ready to move on....let go of holding on...or some such thing. 

The last 7 years have been hard...very hard....and at the end of the day it all washed over me.  I happened to come in second, just like my first game in ABQ. I was thrilled.  You know, I was throwing against Edie and Teresa...I mean Teresa holds like every record there is in two classes.  And well, she threw two world records in this game too...breaking her own records of course! There was one moment during hammers when I was watching Edie and Teresa talking to one another and working some form stuff...their backs...and arms...and my god.  Sorry....goddesses.

Anyhoooo...I was thrilled to take second. Fucking thrilled....then all of a sudden something shifted and I had to get out of there. 

I heard a voice. 

"oh first loser again"

Yeah....I kinda quickly gathered my stuff up because I felt like I just disappointed everyone, like there was this pressure to have been worth more...because I heard his voice again.... "oh first loser again."  I gathered my stuff up and was walking away and I heard competing voices....Grant was calling my name, but all I could hear was the other person..."They don't really want you here, first loser.  Can't you take a joke?"

Grant yelled for me to stop, I finally heard only him and he told me he was proud of me...and over the top...I hear it again.

Well, can you guess what happened?  I lose my shit.  I can't even explain to Grant what is happening because I don't even really understand it myself....Standing there in the middle of balloon fiesta park crying like an idiot over something I can't even put into words. 

I don't fucking care about placements...I only care about how I am throwing....but there I am, feeling worthless and hearing that voice...that person who could not stand to have me be seen or heard; louder than my own voice, screaming me down...again...still.

When will these words, those actions leave my bones, get off my skin?

Maybe the number 7 will be magic...maybe this will be the year; my 7th year throwing, that the shift I need to silence his voice will happen.  I don't need it, I never did....and I sure as hell don't now.

What's next?  Well...Imma work on stones...Mike and Teresa pushed me and helped me see what I was doing....and, well...speed.  Yea....speed.  And...leaving that voice in the fucking dust as I speed right past...the past...

stolen letter.

I stole this last year from someone else, but whatever, I am not a writer.....  I know, I know, Emery is a little young yet really and Kegan; well, yes I am aware that he wouldn't ask me what I wanted for Mother's Day on a bet. You know, since I don't exist.


But in time perhaps...and who knows; perhaps just putting this out in the world he will know this somewhere deep in is subconscious.  Or, perhaps I am just full of shit Pollyanna (most likely option).

Every year my children used to ask me the same question. After thinking about it, I decided I'd give them my real answer:

What do I want for Mother's Day? I want you. I want you to keep coming around, I want you to bring your kids around, I want you to ask me questions, ask my advice, tell me your problems, ask for my opinion, ask for my help. I want you to come over and rant about your problems, rant about life, whatever. Tell me about your job, your worries, your kids, your fur babies. I want you to continue sharing your life with me. Come over and laugh with me, or laugh at me, I don't care. Hearing you laugh is music to me.

I spent the better part of my life raising you the best way I knew how. Now, give me time to sit back and admire my work.

Raid my refrigerator, help yourself, I really don't mind. In fact, I wouldn't want it any other way.

I want you to spend your money making a better life for you and your family, I have the things I need. I want to see you happy and healthy. When you ask me what I want for Mother's Day, I say "nothing" because you've already been giving me my gift all year. I want you. Even if you don't think you need or want me anymore.

I love you both in ways that I didn't understand I could even love until I looked in your eyes.  I pray for you in the same way I had since you were just a tiny group of cells growing inside me, that you find hope, that you find joy, that you find resilience, and that you know love.  

I hope you both knew and know my love for you started long before I knew you and will last past my death.

 

met, not met

 reminder of the weekend's goal, or my goals for last weekend:

1. Have a delicious Italian Meal on Friday with the fantastic Dr. Ahtone.
2. Sing too loudly to music while we drive to OK.
3. Take an Epsom salt bath post competition.
4. Have a blast reconnecting with some throwers I haven't seen in years and years!
5. Not have a migraine.
6. Keep the anxiety in a nice pillow fort.
7. Let go and have fun.
8. Keep my shoulder happy.
9. Keep my knee happy.
10. Just throw.

I missed a couple of these.  There was no tub in our hotel room and I did not sing...had a little trouble with #6 as well....

I had a lovely night with my Dr friend, during which we began to talk about our retirement (HA) and how we will have tiny houses next to one another.  Probably with a 'grocery store' in between us.

I also got to see a few women I haven't seen in so so very long. Terri, Keli, Rosie, Jera.  I wish I was a real writer so I could put into words how it felt to be around these women again.  A lifetime of changes have happened since I have seen them, and there was an odd feeling of nervousness on my part to see them again.  As soon as I saw Terri's face and she looked straight at me, I knew.  Keli too....

It was a bit of a long day, but Johnathan  made sure there was water, great food, beer, and loads fun....and well, good competition too.

As for throwing?  Thankfully there were some great shots of my not so great form.  Really really good to see that.  Not crappy form, just....I could see that I am not doing somethings with my body that I need to do...or that I thought I was doing.  I'm really grateful to Larry Ventress for the photos.

Also watched a video or two... saw some things I am doing well in sheaf...and things I need more of. 

Hit the bar in the corner at 25 with not nearly enough leg...so....yup.

I hate photos and videos of myself, so I often never watch or wait too long to watch. 

So....I have a "game" this weekend and on the 19th...I will stay focused on form.  All I can do.  I also realized how SLOW I have gotten while throwing.  Between the torn up shoulder, the elbow injury last year and the dislocated fibula a few moths ago....I have been throwing from a protective place.  And, well, that's just what it is right now.  I had one final turn on a light hammer when I felt real speed and I thought....yes...that's what's missing.

The verge of chaos....the passion. 

Oh, yeah, there's the answer....Spoke with Terri a little about it.  There is only so much we can spend our time on.  So, I am not spending the time and that's ok.  It has been a long time, because there was a time that throwing was the only thing keeping me sane and safe. 

Am I jealous of the people I see who can?  Hmmm, I thought about this a lot recently, and it isn't jealousy really or envy, it's enviable, but it really is admiration.  I have written before about how I miss being strong or being a good thrower, but if I had to go back to the place I was before in order to throw how I "used to;" I would chose to throw mediocre and even crappy for the rest of my days.

Pain brought me more chaos than I ever want to see again...and this love I work on now, well....ya can't measure that in feet or inches.