My Weekend at the RKC

Today is a new day, and instead of focusing on what isn’t working (most of me), I am going to write about my experience at the RKC in Minnesota just two weeks ago (it seems like two years ago at this point).

For those who don’t know, RKC stands for Russian Kettlebell Challenge, and the weekend certification is an intense three day immersion into technique and proving that one is “worthy” of the title “RKC Instructor.”  It is not for wimps.

Kettlebells have been around for hundreds of years in Russia, but are relatively new to the scene here in the US. They were brought here by the Evil Russian, Pavel Tsatsouline, a former Soviet Special Forces physical training instructor.  He is known now as the modern King of Kettlebells, and it is his methodology that is taught by “official RKC’s.”  Since bringing the kettlebell to this country, Pavel’s proteges are found on the Secret Service, Counter Assault Team, among US Navy SEALS and Force Recon Marines.  And then, there’s Julie.

Now you may wonder, why would a 50-year-old woman with cystic fibrosis want to be in the company of men and women who are either hard core trainers or athletes or counter-terrorism experts?  Kidding on that last one…

Yeah…I wondered that, too.  Especially at the meet and greet that happened the night before it all began.  I was there by myself, of course (who would accompany me to this?).  I stood in the room looking around at the healthy, muscular men, all many many years younger than I, and the equally healthy and fit, excited young women…I was looking for some older faces.  Please God, don’t let me be the only old person AND the only half-assed lung person.

Don’t get me wrong.  People were friendly.  Everyone was incredibly friendly to me.  Not just friendly, but reassuring me that I wasn’t crazy to be there (oh, what they didn’t know).  Many, many older people come to these certifications, they assured me, and some even came just to meet a personal goal, like me, rather than to be over-prepared for their upcoming SEAL training.

Needless to say, I went to bed with just a mild bit of trepidation.  Would I pass?  Pass…hell, would I live through this?

When I say, “pass,” what I mean is to meet all of the requirements of the weekend.  This is not just to pass the dreaded “snatch test,” (A snatch is a move where the bell is brought -with one hand-from between the legs to over the head with a strait arm in one fluid motion. My challenge was to snatch a 12 kg kettlebell 100 times in 5 minutes, switching arms as needed.  BTW–12 Kg = 26 lbs).  Just FYI, if I were to go to the garage right now and try to snatch my 12 kg bell for reps, I might get in 3 or 4 before I had to stop and gasp for air).  The snatch test is what everyone fears.  It sucks.  Seriously…even for healthy people.  It is a test of muscular endurance and aerobic capacity for which one must train for months in advance.  It’s also a test of sheer will, and the ability to endure pain.

But wait, that’s not all.  In addition to the snatch test, women must do the arm hang for 15 seconds (cake), and a woman of my size has to show perfect technique in the double kettlebell  (52 lbs) swing, double clean, double squat, double press, and the  single snatch…all for five consecutive reps. In addition, one must show perfect technique on an unusual exercise with an equally unusual name, the Turkish Get-Up.  None of these were cake.  Instructors were very picky about perfect form…for good reason–if they were to send people out to teach with sloppy form, the whole RKC brand would be harmed.  Form is everything…it prevents injury and promotes safety.  Nobody passes without perfect form.

But even that is not all that is necessary to pass.  The hardest thing required is that you actually have to get through each day of grueling practice, random “punishments” for the whole group if someone messes up by wearing the wrong shoes or sitting with a flexed spine.  I’m serious…they are very serious.  The first of such punishments come early on Day One, when we had to walk around the block carrying our snatch test bell.  This is way harder than it looks. Here we go, with yours truly leading the pack:

And finally, there were “workouts” scattered throughout each day.  Each were short, only 10 to 20 minutes, but can you spell i-n-t-e-n-s-e?  I’m  blanking on most of them…I’m sure my brain is trying to spare me the memories.

Another requirement for passage was to demonstrate on the last day that we were capable of teaching what we had learned to bussed in “victims.”  These were volunteers from the community who “wanted” (read: they were bribed by great discount prices on Dragon Door products) to learn from newbie instructors about the latest greatest exercise craze.  We each got a victim to teach for 45 minutes, and then to workout for 10 minutes.  I had a great guy who already knew a fair amount.  I got lucky.

Finally…the last requirement…the “graduate workout.”  If you don’t complete it, you don’t pass.  It can take you all day if you need it, but you and your kettlebell (now your best friend) make your way up and back a huge field, stopping to swing and snatch away.  It took 40 minutes.  It was cold…I swear I saw snow (May 1, in St. Paul, MN).  I couldn’t feel my feet.  But when I completed that last swing, I was the happiest girl in Minnesota.  Heck, I wasn’t even the last one to finish!

Following the Grad Workout, we all waited with baited breath for our one-on-one meeting with our team instructors, for overall evaluation and the final decision…pass or “you’re fired!” (not really, if you don’t pass, you get a chance to work on your flaws and send in a video of you correctly performing the required exercise).  About 30% don’t pass.  These are athletes!  Seriously.

So, long story short:  Here is the evidence that I gave it my all:

 

This is after Day One.  I read somewhere that we did about a thousand swings on Friday.  I didn’t count, but I would believe it.  After I took this picture, I ordered room service because I literally could not move from the chair.  The bummer was that I could not sleep, 1) because I was on California time, and 2) I went into the weekend thinking the snatch test was on Day One.  Turns out they moved it to Day Three…so I was still nervous about whether I could do it…even more so actually, because I knew that by Sunday I might not be standing.

The morning of Day Two, I got out of bed with nary a single silent muscle fiber.  They were all screaming at me.  It reminded me of the day after the first day of basketball practice when I was in high school…only worse because I don’t believe I was fifty years old back then.  It didn’t help that I had to get up an hour early to do my treatment.  Yes…I did them all … except one.

Day Two went from 8 am to 7:30 pm.  Yes it did.  There was a 45 minute break for lunch and scattered water breaks through the day.  Also scattered through the day were more workouts, and more punishments.  Is this what military boot camp feels like? Learn and practice, all day, the clean, the press, the front squat, the snatch.  A favorite workout of mine this day (not) was called the “breathing ladder.”  Basically, it consisted of swinging the kettlebell for a given number of reps and then only resting for as long as it took to take a given number of breaths.  The reps increased, as did the number of breaths allowed, until we were all dying (not really). The purpose was to teach you how to slow down your breathing when stressed and breathe from the diaphragm.  A laudable goal, yet I don’t recommend this for anyone with a lung disease.  I did it, but the whole time I was wondering if I was about to desaturate right there on the floor.  I collapsed in the bathtub that night, wondering why the Holiday Inn bathrooms didn’t have those little strings you could pull for help, like they have in hospitals and assisted living centers.  I had only myself to blame.  No sleep again, but this time it was due to Prom night, and the collection of very drunk women who wanted to party in my hallway at 3am.  They were actually yelling.  I hope I never acted like that.

Day Three was there before I knew it.  I woke up determined to tape my hands in a way that would protect them from inevitable tearing during the snatch test.  I had read about this technique, and had brought with me all the requisite medical equipment.  I was a doctor, dammit.  I could help myself out a little.  Here is my beautiful tape job, done while inhaling salt (this is tricky, if you think about the number of hands required to 1) get taped, 2) do the taping, and 3) hold a nebulizer).

So when the day starts, we all gather in our teams, and our Team Leader, Andrea Chang, says, “I need to see all hands.”  I hold mine up, proudly.  She looks at me and says, “Take it off, I have to see the skin.”  What?  I was chagrined. My masterpiece…in the garbage.  Apparently, they needed to see intact skin before the testing was to commence.  If anyone had an open wound, they had to be taped.  This is where you might say…but you were taped, Julie.  Yes…  It didn’t help that when she looked at my hands, she said, “You don’t need tape…you’re good.”  Ha!  Good… At this point of the weekend, I was not good.  My lungs were GREAT, but everything else hurt like hell.

Go lungs.  And they did.  The tests came, and went.  Technique tests were a bit nerve-wracking, because you know they are watching every single hair on your head, every angle, every point of contact with the ground, every joint position.  It was more of a mental test than physical.  But, then came the moment of truth.  I run outside to do the snatch test…remember, 100 in 5 minutes.  I had done this once before, so I had a modicum of confidence.  Yet, this had been before my most recent bout of pneumonia, so it was a very tiny modicum.  I really didn’t know if I could.  I remember thinking as I bent down to get set up to start, (and I know this sounds corny, but it’s true), Kathy…Tom…I’m doing this for you guys, too.  And I started.  I don’t remember it really.  What I remember is that with 10 seconds left, I had to go ALL OUT to get the 100th done.  But, I did…there was no way I was going to end up with 97, or 98, or,God forbid, 99. And then I seriously sucked air for many, many minutes.

When the Graduate Workout time came later that day, I knew I could do it.  If I could pass the snatch test, I could do anything.  I had a lot of folks cheering me on, by this point.  It felt unbelievable.  I was strong. I was woman.  Did you hear me roar?

The whole thing was surreal.  The feeling of pride that came over me after the last swing was more immense than when I graduated from medical school.  It was the hardest thing I have ever asked my body, and my will, to do.  And I did it as a 50-yr-birthday present to myself.  When times get tough, as they kind of are now, even reading what I have written cheers me up.  I am tough.  I am a fighter.  CF will never win.  I will decide when to go back to my corner.

R…K…C!!!!

CF Wellness Boot Camp – Introduction

What is a “boot camp” and how can it help me?

A traditional “boot camp” is an intense training program for military recruits.  Fitness professionals everywhere have stolen this idea.  Now you can easily find an early morning community “boot camp” style exercise class at your local community college or gym.  They are basic, nothing fancy, no frills sessions complete with old-fashioned calisthenics, running, jumping, climbing, grunting and sweating. New friendships are forged each session as groups of people meet at ridiculous o’clock in the morning in ungodly weather with the mutual goal of becoming fit.

It occurred to me during a recent exacerbation of my cystic fibrosis that the concept of a “boot camp” could be extremely beneficial to people dealing with the ups and downs of living with chronic disease.  In this series of posts, I discuss how a focused period of intense attention to health and lifestyle improvements can assist in “coming back” from a CF setback, but the idea can really be applied to any ongoing health problem characterized by exacerbations and remissions.

In the first rendition of this chapter, I had come up with a three week plan following a course of home intravenous antibiotics which I needed for a basic “tune up” following a series of upper respiratory infections.  I felt less than energetic, and was coughing more than usual, but certainly was not so ill that I couldn’t set exercise and nutrition goals with full confidence that I could achieve them.

Then, as fate would have it, the program AND the book got put on indefinite hold as I became extremely sick, hospitalized with acute pneumonia and needed another full four week course of treatment.  I lost seven percent of my bodyweight, probably all from muscle mass since I didn’t have much body fat to start with.  Suddenly, it was “exercise” to get up from the chair and walk down the hall to the bathroom.

My confidence was shaken, but the end result was a slightly different perspective, one that is more in line with the majority of adults with CF.   The “boot camp” plan that follows is one based on the very real fact that when you are coming back from getting knocked down, there are two important principles to follow.  First, you must have compassion for yourself and for what your body is dealing with.  Second, you must be patient and persistent.  And never give up.

As a wellness coach, I have helped many people come up with “wellness visions” and design strategies to achieve them.  I work mostly with people with serious health problems, and it is essential for me to remind people to have big goals, but to go slowly and carefully toward them.   This is what I have tried to do with the CF Wellness Boot Camp.

The intention is that you will do this after treatment for an exacerbation.  This is because I know you feel better and stronger than you did a few weeks ago.  I know your lungs are as clear as they can be, and your energy level is optimal.  Now is the time to act.  If there is ever a time to get healthy in ALL areas of your life, it is now.  USE the benefits that modern medicine has provided through that IV tubing, and SUFFUSE the rest of your life with wellness.  Now, if you aren’t coming off of IV’s, that is no reason not to do this boot camp.  This program is designed for anyone who wants to achieve optimal wellness, regardless of where he or she is starting.

So dust off your Vest, find your flutter, and recommit to hypertonic saline. You are about to learn a new response to this thing called Cystic Fibrosis.  It may knock you down again, but you’ll get up again, and again, and again as you refine your own personal “boot camp” to meet your needs.

Overview of Program

This program is designed for people with cystic fibrosis.  It is especially useful if you are recovering from an exacerbation. This is intentional.  I know from personal experience that following a “tune up,” people feel the best, and are most interested and motivated to do what it takes to KEEP feeling good.  With memories of the hospital fresh in their minds, they are also more likely to take on new practices that may help keep them out of the hospital for a longer period of time.

It is said that three weeks is the minimum time it takes to establish a new habit.  From Day 1, you will be asked to make small step improvements in the areas of exercise, nutrition, rest, and stress management.  Hopefully, by the end of the 21 days, these practices will be on “autopilot” just as brushing your teeth twice a day is something you simply do.  You don’t need to get psyched or motivated to brush…it just happens.

In addition, during the 21 days you will explore other practices that you will hopefully find enjoyable.  Not only are many of them fun, but they are also good for your health.   You may also want to incorporate some of these into your daily regimen.

Think of this three week period as an intense “time-out,” with the goal to focus completely on your well-being, and how you can learn to extend the “post-antibiotic” high as long as possible.

There will be specific activities to do each day (created by you), as well as daily introspection exercises, either by journaling or with online activities designed to teach you something about yourself.

One of your first journaling activities will be to create a “well-being” tracking sheet.  Here, you will list 5-10 things YOU KNOW would be beneficial to you health to do on a daily basis. After a careful consideration of what your body needs and what your goals are, you will consider seriously what areas of your life could use some tweaking.  It may be adding more (or, some) exercise to your days.  It may be getting more rest.  It may be reconnecting with friends.

I will ask you to envision exactly what you want your life to look and feel like one year from Day One of the program.  This will be an exercise in imagery.  You will imagine you as your best self, and paint that picture in words in your journal.  Then, you will set some long-term goals that will enable that vision to manifest.  These goals will be behavioral…they will describe what you are doing, regularly, 1 year from Day 1, in the areas of exercise, nutrition, stress management, sleep, disease management, and social connection.

Let’s say that in your vision you are climbing Half Dome with ease.  Behavioral goals to support that vision might include building up to this level of fitness and stamina by doing aerobic exercise for 30 minutes, 3 times a week at an intensity of 75% of your maximum.

Or maybe your vision is that you are 10 lbs of pure muscle heavier than you are now.  A behavioral goal in line with that vision may be that you are lifting weights 3 times a week for 30 minutes and eating protein with meals six times a day.

You will create S.M.A.R.T. (Specific, Measurable, Actionable, Realistic and Time Bound) goals that are relatively long term (12 months), and then create your list of five to ten things that put you on the direct path to those goals.  By the end of 3 weeks of doing these things, you will be well on your way to achieving your vision.  You will also know in your bones that you are capable of making a difference regarding your health, because as you begin to achieve your behavioral goals, you will begin to see real results in the way you feel and look.

The beauty of the Boot Camp program is that it can be used over and over again.  The reality of Cystic Fibrosis is that this is exactly what we need. We get sick, over and over again.  When we do, instead of thinking, “Arrrg, I have to start all over again!” we can think, “Oh boy, I get to do Boot Camp again!” Each time can be tailored even more specifically to you and your body as you learn what works best.

Tomorrow’s post will focus on preparation for the following three week program.  For now, try thinking about what areas of your life could use some mild tweaking.  Your body knows, and so do you.

 

Almost Six Months Later….

Well, it has been a very long time, hasn’t it?  You may wonder where I’ve been…why no words of wisdom from the now 50-YEAR-OLD Julie?

The reason is that it has been a winter from Hell, and I will just leave it at that because my mother (RIP) always told me that if I didn’t have anything nice to say, I should just say nothing.

But, here I am, ready to begin this strange past-time of blogging again, wondering if anything will fall out of my brain.  I decided while on my walk today that I will begin by doing what is easy: posting what I have already written.  Lame, I know, but let me explain.

Two years ago, I decided I knew exactly what would be helpful to other adults with CF, and I set out to write it up.  I fondly titled this project my “CF Wellness Boot Camp.”  The idea stemmed from the fact that most people with CF, and certainly all adults with CF, are increasingly thrust into what I like to term “exacerbation exasperation.”  Say that five times as fast as you can.  You know the game:  you go about, living your life, doing what you do, feeling as good as you feel, and then WHAM, you are sick, need IV antibiotics, and essentially life must go on hold.  Your body-your master- revolts, and you are its slave.

Three weeks later (and can I just get a hand here for Western medicine?) you are better.  Your lungs are clear-or as clear as they get.  You now have enough energy to shower.  You look at your desk, your kids, your spouse/parter, your dog(s), your list of everything you were supposed to do back on the day before the aforementioned body revolt, the scale now reports that you are five lbs lighter…  You take this all in, and the only thing you want to do is crawl back under the covers.  Does this happen to you?  It’s all so overwhelming, this re-immersion into your life.  Whatever fitness progress you made before your illness is gone.  The stress of being completely knocked down is replaced with the stress of getting up.  At least, this has been my experience.

So, the plan for the Boot Camp was to outline a three-week plan (everything seems to come in blocks of three weeks) to begin anew and re-enter the world with some new, healthy habits to accompany those pristine (?) lungs.  So I put on my wellness coach hat and began to write.

This was quite a project for me.  I wrote for a couple of months until I was happy with the content.  I then began to research how to make it into an e-book, put it on the website, and, generally, do all of the technical stuff that one must do in such a project.  Roadblock.  Big time.  Julie is not “tech-y.”

Thank God for David Mahoney, though, because he really tried to help me.  I was just not able to keep the ball rolling, and the project sat for two years, lost but not forgotten, on my hard drive.

So that brings me to my walk this morning.  I want to blog again, so why not start by posting my 21-day plan?  Maybe when it’s all up, I’ll figure out how to bundle it into a pdf and send it out instead of the fizzled out newsletter promise in the opt in box?  Who knows?

So, as my favorite email come-on’s say, watch your inbox (for those who have opted in)!  Tomorrow we begin the CF WELLNESS BOOT CAMP!

To your health….

 

Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction for People With Cystic Fibrosis

If you are interested in the class, more information can be found, as well as a direct registration page, here:

Operation Exacerbation

Rule Number One that I hear myself telling people who are bummed out about their illness, whatever it is, is to remember, “there is more right with you than wrong with you.“

And that’s true, right?  Think about it, by some miracle you are here on this earth, breathing, most likely able to walk around, enjoy food, listen to good music, pet your dog, watch Survivor…

Why is that?  Because most of the 100 trillion cells in the body, each of which are probably performing thousands of events per second, are actually doing their jobs perfectly well right now.  If not; well, you would not likely be reading this.

Now I’m not preaching here.  I am mostly writing this for my own edification, because I just learned that I am now infected with MRSA in my lungs.  I really can’t convey in words what happened in my consciousness when I learned of this last week.  Maybe you know the feeling that really bad news carries with it.  The sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach, the tight chest and throat, the heart racing and the blood draining from seemingly everywhere…  Sh_t!

Then the anger, and the self-pity arrive.  Sh_t (again)!  Why me, why now?  This is a REALLY bad time for this.  I’ve got plans, Universe!

And then, the tears.

So, now I’m officially a CF Pariah.  Gown, glove and mask everyone…here comes Julie.  Man, I’m pissed.  And of course, really what I am is scared.  What does this mean?  Is my CF going to get worse?  Will the freakin IV’s even work this time?

So, I allowed this to go on for a couple of hours.  Then, I was better.  Then, it came back with a full and serious vengeance over several days.  And now, finally, I’ve decided to respond instead of reacting.  Or at least…to try.

The first thing that came to my mind was to write the post I was going to write before the fateful telephone call.  It seemed to me that writing about having a “positive exacerbation” could only be credible if it were to be created during an exacerbation.

So, even though this is a slightly unusual (for me) situation, it is most certainly a “CF adverse event” and just as certainly would be best handled with a positive attitude.

Here are a few things I do to make my three weeks of IV’s…my “home vacation:”

1) First, since I can’t exercise strenuously, I don’t.  I legitimately and compassionately stop pushing myself.  A gentle walk every day that I feel like it is about as hard as I’ll push these days.  After the port goes in and the PICC comes out today, my arms will be free at last, free at last.  So as I feel stronger…I’m back to those kettlebells!  Have I told you about my favorite new exercise?  Something else to post about.

2) I have incredible friends who have been incredibly kind.  I will appreciate them every day, in some way.  By telling them what they mean to me, I will add positive energy to their world and mine.

3) Sometimes it takes a real blow to the illusion of stability to wake me up.  This has been a great one.  I will resolve to appreciate what is good in my life.  The best way I’ve done that in the past is to keep a gratitude journal, and vow to write in it every night three good things that happened that day.

4) I have a post that I have been writing in my head for weeks now about the growing importance of meditation in my life.  I have been trying to figure out how to stress this without sounding like a preacher…hence the silence about meditation.  But it has been SO key for me this last week, that I will write this post.  It will be the next one.  I will pour my soul into it, for both myself and for those two or three readers I have:-).

So if you like this plan, or if you have some suggestions, or if you’d like to share how you deal with your own “operation exacerbation,” please leave a comment!

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