Because my Beloved Gym has Closed Down

Leave a comment October 27, 2015 drworobec

Over the years, you’ve heard me write about my gym many, many times. Okay, many, many, many times. And that’s what I’m going to do again today, but this time there’s a twist:

Because my beloved gym has closed down.

There was a member’s meeting last week and we were told that the gym was closing and we were being transferred to another CrossFit gym nearby. Everyone’s making the switch; coaches, therapists, and members alike. We are all moving over. So the reality is, while the four walls of our gym have ceased to be, the important parts remain.

Some of you may be reading this and thinking “what’s the big deal?” But, you see, my gym is not just a gym- it’s my safe place and my stress relief. My friendships and my sweat, my inspiration and my accomplishments. If you’re a member, you’ll agree. If you’re a CrossFitter, you’ll agree. Because that’s what makes CrossFit great….. the community.

I’ve been a member at CrossFit Altitude from its very beginnings, back when five people was a busy class and no one had yet mastered double-unders or pullups. I joined in January 2010, anxious to feel like myself again after the birth of my first child. After a couple weeks of ranting and raving about what an amazing thing I’d found, my husband tried it out and was also hooked from the start.

So what is it that has kept me coming back, usually in the dark, cold morning hours before 6:00am, year after year? Well, the getting in shape and enjoying newfound strength and skills certainly help. But that’s not it. Not really. It’s the people.

This is the place that rallies around battles with cancer, losses of loved ones, of families broken apart and families rebuilt. This is the place where I have sobbed silently, mid-workout, as my worries and stresses melt away with my efforts. This is the place where I went after my miscarriage, in the depths of my sadness, to start to heal. This is the place that I brought my new baby girl, barbells crashing and music blaring, to get back to being me. This is the place where I’ve met some of the most wonderful people, the most wonderful friends, the most wonderful parts of my life. And while this place is no longer, what it stands for still is. What it is capable of, still is. What it does, still is.

Change is tricky and tough, but familiarity only comes with time. And so we will give it time. We will find our new normals, our new routines, and new ways to challenge ourselves daily, just as we always have. And in the process, we will expand our community, grow our community, and continue to rally and support and comfort and nurture and improve. Our community has doubled, and so too have our opportunities.

Thank you, Jen.

3-2-1 Go.

And next week, I promise more than a BlueJays logo.

Leave a comment October 20, 2015 drworobec

Hmmmm……

Well, I’m not quite sure how to followup what happened last night. There was just that tiny goings-on of the Federal election and that other tiny happening of the BlueJay game. It was kind of a big night for Canadians. I was up very, very late, and my alarm went off very, very early. So, like many of you, I will be fueled by caffeine and sugar today. Paleo, what?

But if I write much about the election I am bound to get myself into trouble (the whole politics and religion thing at the dinner table, remember? This blog is my dinner table and you and I are just sitting down for the appetizer.), and if I write much about the BlueJays, well, you already know my stance on that. But it seems remiss to write about anything other than the above-mentioned topics, since my posts come from a place of genuine interest. So there we have it, a rock and a hard place.

I will just post this, since I’M GOING TO GAME 4 TODAY and it’s at the top of my mind.

And next week, I promise more than a BlueJays logo.

You are the Person I Wrote this For

4 Comments October 13, 2015 drworobec

October 15th is soon rolling around again. October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

I had a devastating miscarriage in 2011 and I often pour my heart out about it around this time of year; the purpose being to try to lessen the stigma of miscarriage and the awfulness that surrounds it. Every year, when I publish ‘Break the Silence,’ I have women email me to share their stories of grief and loss. Sometimes these women are complete strangers who found me through WordPress. Sometimes these women are patients who haven’t told me about their experiences. Sometimes these women are friends, sometimes good friends….. and most times I have no idea they’ve been through this pain until I receive their email. So this tells me that there is still stigma, there is still silence, there is still suffering, and there is still work to do.

If you have not yet read my ‘Break the Silence‘ post, I hope that you will today.

However, this year, I’m going to approach things differently. Today I am going to tell you about what can happen after a miscarriage. Today I’m going to try to give you hope that there is another side, a happy side, beyond all of your sadness. For me, that happy side came in the form of my daughter. My rainbow baby, some would say; a beautiful and bright spot that comes following a storm.

I’ve written about her many times over the years, from what she taught me on maternity leave, to her fiery strength, to her happy disposition, to my hopes and dreams for her….. but I haven’t written about what that little girl does for my heart. I mean really, really does for my heart. You see, she helped me out of my deep sadness into an even deeper happiness. The thing is, she thinks I hung the moon; she’s my shadow, my sidekick, my little buddy. When her little feet pad into our bedroom at all hours of the night and she whispers, “Mommy, can we snuggle?”, oh my sweet girl, of course we can.

My miscarriage is still in the back of my mind, but it’s not at the front, like it used to be. It still hurts to remember, but it doesn’t hurt as much, not like it used to be. I don’t remember the anniversary of our loss every year, not like it used to be. And I don’t tear up when I talk about it, not like it used to be. So if you’re reading this and you’re nodding your head in understanding or crying your tears in heartbreak, well then, you are the person I wrote this for. Email me, talk to me, and I will share your sorrow.