The Murph Hero Wod: A Visual Story

Hungry? My Super Husband (I’m not speaking in hyperbole or anything.) has been ordering two to three meals through Home Chef of late and I have to say they’ve all been quite nice, both in terms of taste and economics.


Memorial Day appears to be easily mistaken for Veterans Day.  As far as I know, everyone who reads my periodic rantings is fully aware of the distinct and specific differences, but if you are requiring elucidation then read here and here, oh, and here.  Of the veterans that I know personally, most of them are not judgmental against anyone on how they choose to spend their 3 day weekend, and for that I’m grateful. There is far too much judgement happening.  From What not to say to someone with curly hair to You’ve been cutting tomatoes wrong your whole life to Top 10 reasons people don’t like you, truly it’s exhausting to keep up with all the things I’m doing wrong.  Judgement and condemnation have taken live-and-let-live out into the street and beaten it to death and left its creme de carcass for the birds (who are, apparently, all assholes.) But, I digress.  For this day, Memorial Day, I am striving to teach my children love for their country, respect for their military, and honor for their family, and occasionally that includes revving up the grill and turning on the sprinklers to play in the water.


But, we all known I do CrossFit, too, and a Memorial Day CrossFit tradition is the hero WOD Murph.  To take your Murph workout to the absolute next level watch the documentary The Protector, and also The Lone Survivor.  (Full disclosure: I haven’t seen either of these films because I am an absolute chicken shit about watching movies were the events happened to very real people.  I think I may have an overactive empathy gland.) If you didn’t read the link, Murph is a simple but brutal workout, which if done 100% as written, includes wearing a 20 pound vest (I did not wear the vest since I consider the permanent attachment of ass and chest to equal about 20 disbursed pounds.). (Which reminds me, I should write about the 2014 genesis of the #kennyz hashtag.) (I think I’ll start writing exclusively in parentheses.  It feels like we’re having a secret conversation.)  Where was I? Awww yisss… Murph.

1 mile run + 100 pull ups + 200 push ups + 300 air squats + 1 mile run.

I’ve been doing CrossFit since 2013. I’ve been asked to complete Murph, or a scaled variant, each year.

2013 – “George, wanna do Murph?”


2014 – “Hey, George, are you signed up fo-“


2015 – “George, let’s do a partner Murph.”


2016 – “George, you’re doing Murph.” 


I mean, let’s be honest here.  Since moving to NY I’ve been exercising more than I’ve really been doing anything else other than complaining and doing laundry, therefore approaching Murph solo should be well within the realm of actual reality.  Right? RIGHT?? Right.  Concordantly, I made a plan.

1) Get to the gym and exude confidence.  Shock and awe, man, shock and awe.


2) Warm up the ankles, shoulders, and intercostal clavicle.  Stretch out the hamstrings and achilles.  Always be time for stretching.


3) Stake out my pull up bar and guard it with territorial simian fierceness.


4) Pose up together with everyone else going in the 8am heat for a group picture.


5) 3-2-1 Go! The plan called for an 00:11:30-00:12:00 first mile, which I accomplished (yay!). Then it was onto ten rounds of 10 pull ups, 20 push ups, and 30 air squats.  Nothing to do here but put your head down and knuckle in.

Big Pile of Shit - Jurassic Park (credit to uEditingAndLayout) - Imgur

 Small hiccup in the plan in round 8 when my palm started to tear on the pull ups. I waved my microscopic injury at Coach Phil who gave me his patented, “Really, George? Really?” look but still gave me a replacement scale for my already scaled pull ups: hollow rocks.  I threw the finger at the pull up bar and kept working.


6) I wanted to complete the 10 rounds before the clock hit the 60 minute time cap to get on that last mile run.  At 00:51:somethingorother I stood up my last air squat and Coach Phil, known for his effective motivational motivating, yelled at me, “GET OUT!!” which I did and it looked a lot like this:


But about 20 yards later the rest of my run looked like this.


7) I came skidding back into the gym where the clock read 65:40.


I had done it! I had completed a full Murph on my own!


And, when the negative side of my brain tried to diminish my efforts by telling myself, “Well, you scaled cuz you used a band on the pull ups and were on your knees for the push ups and everyone did it faster than you so you’re not exactly hot shit on a silver salver.” I told myself to STFU.


 It was a genuine accomplishment four years in the making.  So, I went back to victory mode.


And, then I went into victory eating mode.


And, then I went into victory napping mode.



Memorial Day “Body Armor”

SandLot Science

I have participated in this WOD four times. Each time I have wrecked myself physically and emotionally. I just want to tell you how much Memorial Day and this WOD in particular mean to me.

Memorial is -paraphrasing Webster’s definition- something established to remind people of a person or event.

Memorial Day is an American holiday established to remind us of those women and men who have given their lives in the service of our great nation. In the course of this country’s almost 240 years thousands have made that ultimate sacrifice. For fifteen years now America has been at war, times in multiple theatres. In the connected world we live in, during the course of these past fifteen years everybody has felt in degrees of course the impact of the death of a service-wo/man who made that sacrifice. This coming Monday will be the day established to remind us…

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It’s a matter of perspective

SandLot Science

I have spent the last year and a half trying to keep my head above water so to speak. My life has changed so much, and I have experienced so much that it becomes overwhelming to try and pick a place to start…….so we are gonna jump right in and all around.

Perspective… we choose to look at any situation is so important. I haven’t changed who I am, I have changed my perspective. Choosing to approach life with nothing but love, a willingness to share in hopes of helping/inspiring others, and letting go of the feeling that everybody has to understand me or what I do. Simply, I am not looking to “fuck shit up, and fuck up fucking fuckheads”, matter of fact, I am not looking to even allow that sort of energy to occupy my time in anyway whatsoever. Pump the brakes for those who know me…

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Being Thankful no matter what (no CrossFit no foul language, all heart)

Last year I poured my heart out on the eve of Thanksgiving in a blog that had chronicled the previous year and how it had impacted my life. I have thought about that post for the past week and a half. There are a lot of familiar notes this year as last, and then again my life could not be more different today as it was one year ago. One thing remains though. I AM THANKFUL.

If last year you would have told me that I would be where I sit today, I would have made any bet you were willing to take on you being wrong. Dead wrong. If you had persisted I would have given you a permanent vacation right on outta my life. Here I am. My life has exploded/imploded, I am in the midst of redefining how it will be lived. My marriage is over, I celebrated the anniversary of six years of marriage alone, sleeping on an air mattress in my nieces bedroom. I do not get to see Abbers and Pat every morning, I now see them for precious hours in the evenings once, hopefully twice during the week and then I get to have them from Friday to Sunday every other weekend. The uncertainty of that schedule right now consumes my thoughts throughout the day. I miss my children more than I could ever attempt to explain. Everything I own fits neatly on a shelf and on the floor below it. There are people who are aware of what has been going on since September 29th, and there are fewer who know the details of what has brought me to this point. I have nothing to be ashamed of or to apologize for, but still find it very difficult to just put the basic details out there. I have spent the last two months feeling sad, scared, angry, betrayed, foolish, and like the absolute dumbest person on the planet. I have been forced to look within myself in a way I had only thought I had before, for strength and ability to keep going. I have been tested, who I am or should I say who I think I am has been taken to task.

I AM THANKFUL that I am exactly who the fuck I say I am (I know I said no language, but you can say the f word once and still get a PG13 rating)! What I have found in these two months reflecting on this, is that it is WHAT I am thankful for that makes me who I say I am, because lord knows, and a few others, that there have been moments that I  was not sure. I am thankful for every single moment that I am awake. I roll out of that air mattress every single morning at 3:36am thankful to have opened my eyes and excited to meet my day in the pursuit of being better than yesterday. I am thankful for the room that mattress is in, it was given to me at the drop of a dime by my sis, no questions, just love. They have welcomed me into their very busy home unconditionally. They have welcomed my kiddos for the times that I have them, and it has been very special to see them and their cousins get to spend time with one another. I am thankful, ALLICHOO!! Dammit, this is hard to type. I am thankful for my father and mother who have been on deck since the moment I called, never wavering in their support and love for me, but most importantly in caring most about what I do….Abby and Pat. Family, I am thankful for family.

I am thankful for CrossFit (I know, but this does have bearing). If it were not for it I would not have my sanity. All of you are family and have helped at times through this, mostly not even knowing how much of an impact you have had. Trust me, if you know me through CrossFit and we have spent time together in the last two months you are dear and special to my heart. I am thankful for my immediate CrossFit family. CrossFit Liberty Hill is my family. To Ryan and Jen, thank you for your support through this and for the continued honor in being one of your coaches. It is what I am most passionate about doing in life. It has meant more now than ever. Anything anytime for you and yours. I am thankful for the Lethal Leath Crew. Leslie and Brandon, thank you, I cannot even type what you guys have done and what it means to me. ROD,GRG,GNR. Sandlot Science!!!! I am thankful for every single athlete that blesses CFLH with their hard work. I am honored to roll with each and every one of you. You guys give me way more than you get. Thank you.

Most importantly I AM THANKFUL FOR MY TWO BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN! Every second I am not with you I am thinking of you, everything I am doing while away from you is done mindful of you both and that I am your father. I will always be the very best I know how to be, and I will always be a father and man that you can be proud of. I will always love you unconditionally and through my actions demonstrate how we roll in life. I will be the example in never settling for anything but your dreams. I will be the proof that hard honest work, and trusting yourself will never ever lose. I will instill an absolute certainty of right, wrong, and self worth for you to live by. You will remain larger than life and never let anybody take that from you. EVER.

The ever loving point for any of us is to realize that most of what we worry about and allow to consume our time is of no importance or value. Who we are will be defined by how those who love us remember us. It is our legacy. Remain mindful of the moment and what is going on. Be thankful for anybody in your life that loves you and is worthy of your love. Be thankful for every day, EVERY day. Find something in it good. Be thankful if your day or life is not how you want it, knowing that means you know what you do want!! That also means that you are capable of making your day or life exactly what you dream. Be thankful for that, it is precious and far too often overlooked, postponed, or even worse abandoned. Never ever quit, and never ever allow doubt or fear to win. Be humble, keep it simple, be your own compass, and always give thanks for your blessings. Best way I know is to make sure that those you love and make you who you are, never go a day without knowing it, and how very thankful you are for them


Rule Three……SaNdlOt science is born

Rule # 3–  Have FUN.

There are two common dimensions within CrossFit….I’m on that number three ish. There are many details to argue that lie within these three, but if you’re drinking the cool-aid, right now you are living in one of them. For the record, there are people I love dearly gettin fit in all three. Nobody is perfect….

One dimension is looking for the edge on success in CrossFit. Specific programming with waves and percentages. Every detail outlined and laid out. When to workout, when to eat, how much, supplementation, when to supplement, how to incorporate your food into particular days based on your training, how to breakdown the science of success within your pursuit of CrossFit MegaStarDumb!? There are as many schools on this subject as there are seconds in the day. All using various measures to gauge success.

One dimension screams…..GET OUT OF THE BOXXXXXXX!!!!!!! This side prescribes itself to the notion that we train to apply our newfound level of fitness in the world outside of the box. It sells you on the fact that you should hit it and quit it, then get out there and just L.I.V.I.N. (in my best McCONAUGHEY voice).

I got no patience for allowing a program to run my training or my life…much less validate my fitness! There are nuggets of greatness within most of what I see in the Ivan Drago Dimension (see what I did there?). Most of it though bores the ever loving fucking piss out of me and is too busy looking cool. It is a dimension with entirely too much structure required in a world constantly at odds with it. It frankly feels way too much like a job….fuck that, I got jobs, one of which is coaching, it is THE ONE job that I am most passionate about, it is a honor, and one I take very seriously. That being said, I do not confuse my job as a coach with my “training” ever….ever. Nor do I confuse the idea of a job with work. I love WORK, work is how I validate my life….straight blue collar baby. I can also get hip to the idea of enjoying being outside the box. I do realize that for some their time in the box is just that and nothing more. I don’t understand it, but I do hear you. I also hear your bullshit. I like trees and shit, I can even tolerate you five finger vibrate shoe fuckers for moments of shenanigans, but I won’t allow myself to be mediocre or a creature of convenience within the box, using the ” say bruh, when is life gonna ask me to do double unders, or who cares about muscle ups? I’m all about the REAL world.” Look here fucko, keep making excuses, and I’ll keep being mindful of the fact that I am never not in the real world.

My third dimension…..OUR dimension was born from early mornings of work, philosophy, and theory. There is no bullshit at 4:30 in the morning, and me and MAV’s talks are specific to CrossFit at times, but always come full circle to life and keeping shit simple. So here it is….Sandlot- Be better than yesterday, every damn morning. Require more of yourself, you’re worth it, and capable. You are only as good as your worst quality. Face that, and fix it, you’ll become a better person. PERIOD. There is nothing you cannot do. PERIOD. There is no science or equation that substitutes or replaces hard honest work, done every single fucking day. It is okay to train because you love to fucking train, you don’t have to apologize for it, so don’t. Fuck people who would dismiss your choices because you have decided that what everybody else does, does not apply to you….you are not everybody else. Have the ability to identify what and where you need to work, with brutal honesty. Become comfortable with being uncomfortable. Validate your work through simple measures.. am I faster? Am I stronger? Can go further than I did last time? If the answer is yes, keep it up. If the answer is no, fix that shit, and I don’t mean reinvent the wheel. Just fucking fix it.  AND FOR FUCKS SAKE, HAVE FUN!


IT’s HOW You SAVE Boobies that matters most

On the eve of a Barbell’s for Boobs charity event I find myself hearing an awful lot about “Grace.” I don’t want to participate, my time will be horrible and I will be embarrassed. What weight should I do? What’s a good Grace time? What strategy should I use? I’m gonna take a rest day Friday and make sure I eat right before Grace. What should I do I be ready? First, FUCK Grace, and if you…..nope never mind, FUCK Grace! Tomorrow is for charity and a truly worthy one at that. How you deal with Grace will be what matters, not how quickly, not at what weight, not any fucking other thing. No matter what weight you sling or how long it takes you, your heart and commitment will validate your CrossFitCred. Everybody respects an epic performance at RX weight done with a pace slightly slower than lightning. No denying it, but NOBODY forgets that motherfucker who grinds out every single rep like their life depends on it, or maybe their favorite pair of boobies. Point is this, if you give your all to a task, truly, nobody can take it away from you. We should all strive for that in everything we do. Remember we all are different, no matter what, our hours and minutes leading up to a simple thirty reps tomorrow will be unlike any others we share the day with. What will define us will be how we go about completing those thirty reps. WE are one community showing how we fucking roll in support of saving lives/boobies in true CrossFit fashion! Your heat will be your family, be about your business, and remain mindful that at 3-2-1 you go all in together, and Grace will not be finished until the last of you calls time. If you get your 30 and find yourself amongst family working, scream your head off in support, it will be your greatest contribution to your family. If you find yourself grinding out reps surrounded by screaming family, smile, dig in, and DO WORK to the last rep! As a family celebrate the time spent and make sure to support the rest of the community with the same intensity. Time and kilos will not define the morning, the heart of OUR community will! Give all you got and walk with swagger……..and make sure to make a contribution, your boobies or someone’s that you are very fond of might need it!



My Damn Mojo!!! You seen my damn MOJO!?

It is enevitable,,,,,we hit the wall, we plateau, we stop fucking following rule 3. Somehow, somewhere we find ourselves in a CrossFit slump. The magic seems to be gone……..perhaps you and the WOD have “lost that loving feeling!” See what I did there? Our CrossFit swagger is nowhere to be found……I’VE LOST MY MOJO!!!!! HAVE YOU SEEN MY MOJO!?

One of the reasons I LOVE CrossFit is because it IS a proving ground for how to deal with adversity, not only in the BOX, but in life as well!!

For the next part of this installment I will be using LifeFit. My intention is to show how what we do in the box parallels what we do in the rest of our daily lives.

LifeFit is not easy, fact. LifeFit never gets easy, fact. Chewing on this for a moment makes me realize how we condition ourselves daily to become accustomed to a particular “life.” Now quickly the rules for first timers. Rules of LifeFit:
1- Don’t Die
2- Safety is Paramount
The only situation in LifeFit that trumps a rule is the rule before it. PERIOD. Now is this an oversimplification of LifeFit? It is for those of you conditioned to be full of shit, excuses, and just plain afraid of greatness. We ALL slip from time to time, that’s why there are fucking rules. Get your head right and get in gear!

I may be quickly getting to the ever loving point…..and it excites me!!!

In LifeFit NEVER forget the rules!! Especially when you or those around you become full of shit, doubt, and or excuses!! Combine this with an absolute certainty in LifeFit that consistent hard work will always win!! Stop hatin’ and start participatin’!! You will never have success if you don’t get in the game, and you NEVER quit, ever. This is where we find our MOJO, or is it? NO IT IS FUCKING NOT!!!!! Dammit!!! It’s YOUR MOJO, you don’t find it, YOU MOTHERFUCKING REALIZE IT!!!! Let that truth bomb marinate on your mind for a moment……… let it marinate a bit longer……

You fired up!!! I fucking am!!!! Currently I’m doing fucking hot laps around the waiting room where my Airrosti magician Jeremy Robillard will call my name shortly. Don’t have much time!!!

Here it is. In LifeFit, it’s not rocket science, in fact….fuck science, fuck gear, fuck finding “that” program, fuck anything that allows LifeFit to become complicated, and especially fuck anything that makes following rule three difficult/impossible. Do Work!!….consistently, EVERY fucking day know that you gotta show up to blow up!!!! Never forget that we all start somewhere, and that somewhere is different for every single one of us….EVERY single one of us!!!! Have a LifeFit goal/s, make them grand!!!! Make them for you!!!! As you work, realize your MOJO!!!!! Celebrate it!!! Give it some walking around money, and show it the fuck off!!!! IT’s YOURS!! For fucks sake, have fun and keep it simple. Our MOJO isn’t complicated, do not make it more than it is. Set your goals, do work every single day, be patient, never quit, ever!!! On the mornings that we wake up feeling like we have lost our MOJO, never forget, we will never LOSE our MOJO, at times we simply have to realize it is right there waiting for us to follow the rules and remember why we do what we do. Train triumphant!!! Every single day!! LifeFit is gonna kick you in the balls/ovaries…get a cup. LifeFit is gonna punch you in the head……get a helmet. LifeFit will become hard, complicated, and will lend itself to doubt, insecurity, worst of all excuses for mediocrity…….GEAR UP fucker, your MOJO is right there with you wait in’, and that MOTHER FUCKER is a peacock….you gotta let it fly!!!!



The Greater Central Texas Crapping Swallow

Hungry?  Try this: Bacon-Wrapped Stuffed Zucchini.  Not one of mine, but a true entry in the winner-winner-chicken-dinner category of meal options.



We have lived in Texas only two years, but in those two years I’ve really enjoyed experiencing all those unique things that Texas has to offer that, to me, are new, but to every other resident are a plague on survival.  For example, summer.  Summer in New Mexico is hot and dry, and regardless of your opinions of the added oppression of humidity, 100+F is just freakin’ hot.  When we first moved to our home here in central Texas I had taken the kids to the neighborhood park where two other fathers were sweating and swearing about the midday heat.  When I asked if the heat gets worse they looked at me like I was special brand of stupid and nodded emphatically.  One dad followed up with a careless shrug and said, “It’s not bad if you can regularly get out in the heat and get used to it.  Then it’s endurable.”  I thought he was a) serious and b) telling the truth.  Turns out he was a master weaver of terrible lies for the very next day I took myself on a exploratory bike ride leaving behind me a trail of sweat and fat renderings.  My knees were sweating.  My ears were sweating.  My EYEBALLS were sweating.  It was magical, and my body transformed that day, like a superhero who gets blasted with corrosive chemical lubricant and gamma rays, because I biked almost everywhere that summer and the following summer.  The kids would fit snugly in the bike trailer, each with a cup of crushed ice to suck on to keep cool and hydrated, and off we’d go to the pool or the grocery store or a park or to crossfit or to the movies. I never minded having to travel by bike.  In fact, in the grand human quest for validation this really fit the bill with people either being impressed with my stamina or being impressed with my stupidity.  Either way they were impressed so that was a tic in the win column.

Another unique feature of Texas is the different bird population from what I was used to in New Mexico.  Rare are the giant fat Western Blue Jays whose rage-filled honking bristled the air, and in their place is an incredible population of smaller, cuter, sweeter tweeting birds that are a joy to listen to when sitting on the back porch.  Among this collection of birds is what I’m assuming is a common barn swallow.


Or, as I’ve come to know them, the Greater Central Texas Crapping Swallow.  But more on that in a moment. I’m going to do this spectacular thing where I draw a parallel between life and a bird that craps magnificent piles of crap by the front door.

We bought our current house at the very dawn of summer in 2012.  March 2013 heralded spring and by the late month and I had cheerfully pointed out that it looked like a pair of swallows was building a mud nest in the alcove over the front door to my visiting parents.  (During this little show and tell episode, one of the swallows took the opportunity to tour the interior of our home that fine late evening.  After chasing it upstairs, and finally corralling it in the media room I ended up opening the windows and using the lit-up screen of my iPad to effectively swat the intruder back out into the wild suburban jungle.) My mother assured me that this was definitely NOT something I wanted to allow due to a number of sanitation risks, not to mention the unsightly mound of bird leavings, so with some guilt we knocked down the partially constructed mud nest.  Two days passed and it was clear the swallows were not deterred and began reconstruction in the exact same spot, and over the next three weeks we were locked in a battle of wills: The swallows persisted in building up a nest, and we continued to knock down their efforts.  Then, one day as I was exiting the house through the front door I did my habitual glance upward to make visual contact on the swallows so they wouldn’t dart into the house and was stunned to see a fully completed mud nest tucked over the entry archway, complete with a decorative downy feather edging.  The realization of having been DUPED BY TINY BIRDS dawned on me with the light of a nuclear blast: I had only looked for the nest we could see when ENTERING the house, and never checked any of the other three architecturally available surfaces that comprised the entryway alcove.  And there, 180 degrees from the nest we insistently knocked down was a completed nest now hosting eggs and two very smug looking swallows who gleefully crapped a monstrous pile of crap over the course of the next few weeks, which only got bigger once the babies learned the art of high altitude defecation.  The swallows had worked double time building a decoy nest to keep our destructive broom handle busy while they cleverly built their actual nest on the opposite sides.  A small bird had more creative solution awareness in its peanut brain than I had in my ostensibly greater intellect.

In my mind I saw these two swallows flying off to the greenbelt to sit on tiny velvet wingback chairs, their feet propped up on tiny tufted footstools, sipping earl gray tea, enjoying crustless cucumber sandwiches and smiling ruefully and knowingly at each other as they discussed in deeply intellectual words how they were getting the better of me.  It was an insulting mental image.  As we watched the evolution of the nest with the eggs hatching, the tiny baby bird heads peeping over the edge, the baby birds growing and fledging and crapping with the best of them I decided that there had to be a lesson in this experience.  The swallows had a single, pin-pointed goal: to build a sturdy nest in a safe place, free from the threat of egg-stealing bats, vandalizing robins, and the Godzilla inclinations of the homeowner for the sole purpose of procreating other swallows to continue the endless life cycle of dive bombing squirrels and crapping on doorsteps.  Their goal was unshakable, and, clearly, unstoppable. Therein was the lesson.

As I find myself caught up in the cyclone of obsessing over weight loss, food, and weight loss I am reminded of these persistent birds.  I knocked down their first nest and they calmly shrugged their bird shoulders and agreed that they picked the entryway of an asshole in which to build their nest, but given that it was such a splendid entryway it would be advantageous to find a way to accomplish the goal in spite of the homeowner’s clearly demonstrated preferences. Similarly, I’m trying to build a solid nest of good choices that will yield a healthy offspring of good results, but, either by my own hand or by the intervention of the intergalactic douche-nozzle, Fate, my nest gets knocked down.  A lot.  That leaves the question of how to build a decoy nest while simultaneously building the real and lasting one.

Life has this consistent habit of changing. One day may go beautifully as planned, and then next five will be like a cartwheeling firecracker of unpredictability.  Historically, my ability to adapt and evolve with the flow of life has consistently been poor.  Let’s be honest: laughter and poor diet are a sad substitute for laughter and, well, NOT a poor diet.  Like the swallows, I want to build the decoy nest of daily chores, activities, plans, and ideas that is secondary to the long-range goals of exercise and eating right.  And, while life perpetually knocks down the semi-accomplished decoy nest it will be theoretically too busy to notice the ongoing construction of the permanent nest.  Some things don’t have to be subject to a well-aimed broom handle or pressure washer.  Some things can continue on steadily regardless of all other environmental variables.  I can always find a way to exercise, even if it doesn’t include getting to crossfit exactly on the schedule that I want.  I can alway choose to eat the right foods, even when we are scraping the dregs of fast food for a quick meal.  I have come to accept that every day will not conform 100% to my expectations, but that doesn’t mean I am allowed to throw my hands up and abandon all good choice making.  Good choices are the permanent nest in the frothing sea of knocked-down decoy nests.

There it is.  The life lesson of the Greater Central Texas Crapping Swallow.  A tenuous connection, I grant you, but a connection nonetheless.  Also, there’s no life lesson relating to the giant pile of bird crap we are dealing with for the second spring season in a row.  Crap is crap, and periodically it has to be mucked out to make room for fresh crap.  As a mother of young children it holds to my belief that it will be many many years before I am no longer dealing with poop in some form or other.

Short and Sweet. WHO, WHAT, WHERE, WHEN, WHY


Who am I? ME, it is the easiest most comfortable who I can be. I don’t ever have to apologize for being ME or second guess the choices made for ME. I can accept anybody loving or hating me being ME for ME.

WHAT: (this is my favorite)

What I am changes.
I call it growth.

What I am NOT will NEVER change.
I am NOT to be FUCKED with.


Many people that I admire have a VERY clear path set out for themselves for where they are going and want to be…….I don’t give a flying fuck for “where.” I have chosen to make my own path with the full understanding that “where” is going to change. I am going to find myself lost at times, alone at others, having to back up, change directions, ALWAYS following MY OWN compass……..I am obsessed with HOW I choose to get to “where.” For one simple reason, I refuse to validate my life or happiness by getting to “where.”


RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!!! Matter of fact yesterday, that’s when.


To make sure that every night in my head movies that the ME of today gets FUCKING owned by the ME of tomorrow! EVERY MOTHERFUCKING NIGHT! Never quit, EVER…BETTER EVERY DAY!




Meet Your Adventure Cooker Travel Guides

Make no mistake, this is a blog that will talk about Crossfit.


We will also talk about the adventures we are cooking up in our respective lives on any subject that fancy strikes.  There may be swearing, there may be use of words exceeding two or three syllables, there may be humor, there may not be humor, but most of all there will be authenticity.

Meet Chuck.   Father.  Crossfitter. All-around awesome person.  Chuck will be your man’s perspective on this blog, and make no mistake, his perspective is like none you’ve ever read before.  He is raw, honest, eloquent, and above all profoundly relatable.


Meet George.  George is a girl, and no you may not ask what her birth certificate name is, because in this environment it is completely irrelevant.  George is a wife, mother, and fatty.  Her writing is mostly built on snark, but you can expect to experience the crossfit and nutrition adventures she cooks up in the best way possible: with a grin.


Pack your bags, and get ready to start cooking up some adventures with us.  Check back often!