Stephanie Louise Smith

Can Someone Get Me A Cupcake, Please?

Where The Day Went From There…

I’m still determined to keep busy and distract myself as much as is StephieLou-possible.

So I hung out with these guys:

That was until one of them asked me, “Stephalie, how come you’re the only one in the family without a boyfriend? Even I have a boyfriend.” Which resulted in face pulling and forced smiles.
Thinking some vitamin D might help I went out for a walk. The scenery was nice.

But mostly I still just felt sad and like shit, so I threw on these kicks to head our for a run even though I’m not sold on their colour or level of support.

8 x 800m repeats later and I’m a little exhausted. Given how big a session it was this morning I was surprised it actually went reasonably okay. Is it possible my running fitness is returning?!?!

After seventy billion attempts to distract myself without much success today, maybe I’ll have an early night, safe in the knowledge that each day should get a little easier. Promise I’m not as morose and miserable as I’m making myself sound.

swole-papa-bear they suck so much that there isn’t any energy left to think about anything else which is nice :-)

How shitty is that feeling? I’ve just realised I’ve been doing okay up to this point. I was so angry that I had a lovely little adrenaline boost that was keeping me going. The anger is gone though and this is the true suck. Luckily I know that one way or another it will pass…

swole-papa-bear they suck so much that there isn’t any energy left to think about anything else which is nice :-)

How shitty is that feeling? I’ve just realised I’ve been doing okay up to this point. I was so angry that I had a lovely little adrenaline boost that was keeping me going. The anger is gone though and this is the true suck. Luckily I know that one way or another it will pass…

The Hurt Locker

You can tell from the photo that we take things pretty seriously on Saturday mornings at the ghetto crossfit at which I train.

Strength work went okay. Not sure if it’s the stretching, the constantly working on it, the massage, or the combination, but my chest stayed upright for all of it. So much so that the Coach himself even commented. It just felt so much more comfortable than normal dropping into it. Same weights as last week, but more reps and better techy. Forward momentum, y’all.

The WOD. Oh. Gross. 45mins in The Suck. Z and I made a deal to just not stop. Whatever happned, one person moving at all times. Through some miracle we stuck to it. I’m still in shock that we came in under the timecap. The best part though? I got 45mins of being so focused on what I was doing that for a little while there I forgot about how crap I’d been feeling, and I’d even go so far to say that I left feeling incredibly humbled by how much it kicked our butts, but also so proud that we stuck it out and got it done.

People often screw their noses up as they ask why it is that I CrossFit. This morning I had so many reasons: the sense of accomplishment at the end, the satisfaction of knowing all the hardwork on technique is slowly paying off, learning that effort reaps reward, the distraction from whatever hurt my heart is trying to heal from, the friendships literally forged in blood, sweat, and tears that you know you can’t build elsewhere. So thankful for each and every one of those gifts this morning.

Have you ever woken up missing someone? Before you’ve opened your eyes or registered what day it is the gnawing in your gut tells you something is wrong. Then it hits you and for a few seconds there is an overwhelming sadness as you realise they didn’t care as much as they told you they did.

That is a strange way to wakeup. The last time I remember feeling this way was in the days after Mr Abs and I broke up. Would you believe that was nearly two years ago!?! Two freaking years!!!

Gritting my teeth and going to training. Must. Keep. Busy. Must not stare at phone. Wall balls can fix this, right?

Healing Hands

Lying in bed and every inch of me is aching. During the deadlifts yesterday I could feel my body was uneven in lifting the bar and today with the cleans I managed to leave a massive bruise on my right shoulder but not the left (WTF?!?! And don’t even get me started on the disgusting state of my shins… No catwalks for me this weekend).

To try and combat the issue before the hip displaces itself again, I went for a midday massage which has left me feeling broken and bruised. If you told me someone smashed me repeatedly in the back while I was asleep I would probably believe you.

It sucks that therapy is so painful. It’s not just the after effects either, it’s the during. Today while I was having someone dig their forearms and elbows into my back I wondered why it was that we often have to put the body through pain to both heal it and make it stronger. There was even a moment in there where after the most excruciating release I can ever remember, a few stray tears may have escaped in absolute relief that the pain would pass.

And it brought me back to my current predicament.

I’m not going to lie, my situation was on my mind for most of the day while I wondered if there was any point at all in hanging onto that slim hope, but during the massage it was at its worst. There is something about physical pain that taps into your emotional pain and it reminded me that this hurt is necessary. Whichever next step is in store for me, without the pain of the goodbye I don’t get to move forward. If I stay battling with friendship things will continue declining until we create a situation that makes us both miserable. In taking the hard step to move on without him, he will either realise he’d rather be on this journey with me and catch-up, or it frees me to begin the next adventure without any baggage.

Minds, like bodies, need to experience pain every now and again to keep us moving forward. For now I just hope both my mind and my body can relax enough that I can get some sleep…

This WOD

Okay, so you get from the previous two posts (hey! I warned you!) that things were going to get girly in here. Like, wearing cheerleader skirts, listening to Miley songs about boys who were mean, and watching movies from the 90s girly.

(And yes, swole-papa-bear, a pic of the skirt is coming) ;-)

There has been a man in my life lately whom I have struggled to maintain a respectable distance from, despite the necessity to. Last night there were some words exchanged and I (as tends to be my way in all matters of the heart…) lost my temper and told him to leave my life forever. The girlfriend or me, time to choose. Friendship ain’t working here.

You’re not even shocked, are you? Bet you’re all going, “Oh Stephie! Not again!” I know, right? In my defense, his knee-jerk reaction was to shut down and make dumb threats, and then my knee-jerk reaction was to tell him to go the eff away.

We communicate good, right?

Well this morning I woke early, thoughts of last night’s heated exchange in my head, and I knew if I didn’t take action the day wouldn’t be my own.

(Do you think if I got “You freaking feel better after a wod, so get your fat, lazy, squat booty to training, stupid!” embroidered into a pillow I would be more likely to remember it?)

So today as the sun rose I was in the gym, pondering just how much I looked like a domestic violence victim after yesterday’s deadlift session when Marky Mark told me to spill on what it was that was clearly bothering me given that I was aggressively throwing weights around the gym like I was destroying bumpers for time (only one bumper was harmed in the live action role play of this situation and I swear, it was already mostly broken before I got there!).

Mark’s advice - in between ring work and cleans - was that despite my insistence to always shoulder the blame for everything man-related, this time it was the man who was very much behaving like an idiot.

Huh? This one isn’t on me??

The more I stood back and looked at it from another’s perspective, the more I saw that he was right. My fear of abandonment, my desire to have someone comeback for me, means that whenever someone mistreats me I lash out. You don’t have to be a psychologist to work out that on some subconscious level this is likely driven by the fact that once the fault lies with me I can fix it with an apology and the anxiety to see if they will return is instantly dissipated.

Because I respect this guy, because I like his presence in my life, because I don’t think he’s the demon people quickly judge him as, and more importantly because I am not a chew toy, I’m standing my ground this time. For the first time in my life I am standing steady and saying, “you know what, he did wrong here and if he wants to fix it he knows where I am”.

It is by far the most challenging part of my day right now, but also something I need to do if I’m to maintain any semblance of self-respect.

To ensure I truly got the message that I am better and stronger than the situation I am currently entangled in, we did Elizabeth (and believe me, the irony was not lost on me!).


Only did 35kg for the cleans instead of 40kg (but I’m happy, usually I’d pick 30kg) and used a band for the dips, but did it convincingly. Just this one time I got to say that Elizabeth didn’t leave me feeling bruised and battered, and like the world can be such a shitty place. Maybe I can’t compete in the real world, but throwing myself into a WOD with that name gave me some hope that if I do stick to my beliefs here I’m going to be happy. Maybe it will be with him and maybe it won’t, but either way I am going to be happy.

Girl talk: over.