This was a bizarre coincidence, because I had noticed previously that the Big Thing I was getting ready to launch happened to coincide with the end of the program, and I was forced to reflect on the last six months of my life—six months I might have spent working on projects in New York, but six months that, at the same time, I had done really great things with anyway. Successes I was proud of. Projects I wouldn’t have traded for anything.

As it happens, I’d been putting off this launch for about a week already. Ah, psychology. It’s never quite there, you know? But really, it was already done. Brooke’s note meant I couldn’t put it off any longer.

Also as it happens—today is Seth’s birthday. I can’t think of a better day to make my first official launch post and kick everything off. Thanks to Seth Godin for all his nudges, inspiration, and awesomeness. I wish you a very, very happy birthday.

So that’s it, right? Time to show you the good stuff!

If you want to know all about my project, you can read the Squidoo lens I put together: Idea Blueprint Girl: The (Home Study) Alternative MBA of Megan M.

Or you can go straight to That Idea Blueprint Girl, and start browsing.

Things are about to get pretty interesting around here. ;}

This was my fourth week doing five CrossFit classes a week—Monday through Friday—so I decided to celebrate by doing one more day, and making this week six. There was a free boot camp this morning, under the bridge downtown near Town Lake, so Marty and I hustled down there around 8. Push-ups on the ground meant we all ended up covered in dust and dirt and little leaves, and all the sweat meant it stuck. It was awesome.

I should mention, too, that I’m still the last one back from the run (apologies to my teammates at the end there), but unlike my starting situation in May, I can now do real squats, like a person with… muscles. In their legs. Holy cow. It seems like a little thing until I remember exactly how weak I felt when I started doing this. What I’m experiencing is progress.

So I’m sitting here writing this entry, covered in dirt (at least it’s not mud, right?), and the only clean thing on me is my hands. Because I washed them. And while I wait for my breakfast to be ready, I figure, I have to say something about these people. Because these folks really watch out for me, and it means a lot, and furthermore it says something—about Crossfit Central in Austin, about the kind of people who work there, about the folks coaching their classes.

Zachary Thiel taught us CrossFit Elements when we started out—it was fantastic. Now, I have Chris Hartwell Mondays and Wednesdays and Lance Cantu Tuesdays and Thursdays. I drop in on Carey Kepler’s Monday-Wednesday-Friday women’s class on Fridays (which Jen Cardella helps coach), and it’s the only class I have that isn’t a beginners’ class. All of these classes kick my ass, and I don’t know how I lived without them before.

This isn’t like grade school gym where the teacher is frustrated with the slow kids, and mostly ignores them. This is something else entirely. This is a whole different motivational ethic, and I love it. There’s tons of encouragement to go around. No one gets forgotten. That’s something I was really sure would happen, the more behind I was—I was worried I’d get forgotten.

Never happened.

These coaches all go out of their way to be helpful and share advice as needed. They’re friendly and they know their shit. They have senses of humor, good hearts—and high standards. I walk out of these classes feeling so proud of myself, feeling this enormous respect for what I’m doing even though I can’t really do it any better than anyone else (and, uh, far from it). But I still leave feeling amazing. Competent. Adult, not just because I’m 28 years old and “legal”, but in a true sense of what it means to be responsible for yourself and your own well being.

In my conversation with Marty this morning, we decided that it wasn’t the exercise we liked, specifically. It wasn’t even that we were doing something that would be good for us, result in better health and flexibility and longevity—though those are all great effects. It’s that we like the way we feel when we do these things that are hard. It raises your self-esteem to know that you did the thing when most people wouldn’t have bothered. It feels good to have made the extra effort. It feels good to know you can do it, no matter how far you still have to go.

It makes it all even better that Chris always has a warm smile and Lance always has a word of encouragement and Zach has a friendly hey when we walk in, and Carey cheers us on and Jen cackles when I lose count (Jen is awesome, and yes, I probably should have been using the 20lb dumbbells. Next time!!) and that they all adamantly push us to do our best, every minute. I love seeing these people every morning. Man, I can only imagine what a hardcore gym workout every day could have been. What I got was so much better than I imagined. Jesus, if I can do this, who couldn’t?

And crap! Exercise isn’t my thing—it’s never really been my thing. It’s not that I was born to do this stuff or that I’ve gravitated towards it all my life. I’m a freaking couch potato. So it has to be something else. It has to be the challenge and the play of it, and the environment, and the people.

Hell.

It’s probably just CrossFit Central.

Thanks, guys. :}

My Favorite Single Posts

• Fully-Integrated Social Change
• Better Kids, Better Us, Better Everybody
• Social (Detective) Work, Perseverance, & What Matters

On Homelessness and Social Change

• A Need for Social Change
• Finding the Connection for Social Change
• On Desperation and Locked Doors
• Seeing Clearly: What Help for Whom?

Angel and Michelle’s Story

• Outside Looking In, Part One
• Outside Looking In, Part Two
• Outside Looking In, Part Three

Burning Flipside and Alternative Social Structures

• Alternative Social Values for the Real World
• Civilization and Self Reliance
• Social Systems, Invisibility, and Self-Reliance
• Self-Reliance: Creativity, Ingenuity, Growth
• Remembering to Connect

Sweat Lodge Ceremonies and Social Work

• Assuming Social Connection
• Sweat Lodges and Social Work
• Seeking the Sweat Lodge
• Inside the Sweat Lodge, Self-Work and Spirtuality

If you want to catch posts as I make them, you can see them most Tuesdays and Thursdays at Social Work prn’s blog, The Social NetWorker. Rob Plotkin posts there regularly, and we’ve had a smattering of other guest bloggers in the last few weeks (including our friendly neighborhood Freak Revolutionaries and the ever-awesome Bob Poole). If you’re interested at all in social work (or being mindful of the world around you!) it’s a good read. Here’s the RSS feed.

Have a super-great weekend, folks!

She understands that sometimes the most confusing and difficult problems are best solved with unorthodox solutions.

She understands that the solution you’re searching for is sometimes the one hiding in a rarely-sought (or ridiculous) corner.

And she understands that sometimes the shape of the solution isn’t technically real, but its effect on the problem is. Even if the hydra she decides to hire is actually a very talented (human) assistant, the hydra in her head is the solution, because it allows her to hand off a powerfully overwhelming mindset to a delegate, and thereby move forward through her life less encumbered, freed for challenges ahead.

If the hydra she decides to hire is entirely “imaginary” (who can suppose under such circumstances?), it accomplishes the same results.

Search everywhere for solutions. They don’t exist only where you think to look.

With all the wind and crazy, the hexayurt did not budge. There was clearly no danger of it falling over, or even becoming less structurally sound somehow. There were two or three tiny drips coming through the taped edges—where we’d half-assed our construction, no doubt—but Marty added more tape and we had no problems with water. That is, until the storm was over and we started tracking in mud. Yeek. Oops.

Here are some pictures from the outside, if you want to see what we put together! (The noise is one of the generators nearby.)

And backtracking a bit—because the countryside was simply beautiful on the drive there, I stopped to take a clip of some of it. Texas hills are truly fantastic.

I have been very receptive, lately, to the concept of people who care. I have been noticing now more than ever that although many (most?) people in their business and personal lives may in fact care, not all of them show it. There are a lot of reasons this might be, but it doesn’t mitigate the fact that those they interact with are strongly affected by the appearance of caring (or not).

My very latest, thoughtful, examples:

• The apartment complex manager who listens kindly to your situation and shows that he cares, even when it turns out to be a problem he can’t (or even won’t) solve.
• The web hosting support dude who takes a minute to suggest a solution to your problem, rather than shutting you down because the problem isn’t with the server.
• The neighbor who stops by to ask if their music is too loud, and makes sure you’re aware that they don’t mind you calling or stopping by to let them know.

I honestly can’t understand why you wouldn’t give your customer the impression that you care—the person who rents one of your apartments, the one who shops in your store, the one you see every day, and-AND the person you only meet once, who just might have an unsuspected impact on your life and work. Everyone has bad days, but what is the harm or unreasonable effort in being good-natured and compassionate?

I’m tired today. I’m grumpy. I dumped chocolate protein shake all over my new dress, and I couldn’t wear it like I planned. My house is a mess. It’s too freaking hot outside. I’m annoyed.

Grrrrrrrrr.

Oh yeah, okay. So what?

Are you really going to use those excuses to ruin everyone else’s time, too? Distance yourself from friends? Alienate strangers? Kill traffic to your business?

Really?

I mean, I dumped chocolate protein shake on my new dress this morning, and I’m still cheery as a shiny button. Unless I’m pretending. ;}

But this year I’m gonna live in a yurt.

That’s gotta count for something.

The last week or so has been a huge blur. There’s a limit to how much one person can get done in a certain amount of time, but I’ve been pushing it. Today’s list is the biggest, because early tomorrow morning we’re packing up the car and wandering out into Texas Hill Country. To that end, this is really a scheduling post, so that you all know where in the hell I am while I’m not answering your emails or picking up my phone.

From May 21-25, I will be in the middle of nowhere—really!—braving the hot sun and dust and desert creatures in Flat Creek with nothing to protect me but some insulation panels and, uh, TAPE. It will be wild. There are no computers in the wilderness. As such, I will (obviously) not be answering email during that time. I am also 99% certain that I will not have any kind of mobile reception, so although you’re welcome to leave me voicemail, please do not expect responses while I’m gone (swift or otherwise).

From May 26-27, I will be back in town and on a super tight deadline. We’ll be getting Marty ready for A-Kon in Dallas, and making sure nothing slipped past our radar while we were camping. It will be fairly difficult to get a hold of me, but possible. I would beg you to only send me emergency items during this couple of days, because time will be very short.

From May 28-31, Marty and I will be in Dallas at A-Kon. I will be working, but internet connectivity may be spotty or non-existent, depending on whether the hotel’s wireless works and possibly on whether I can find an alternate ‘net location without compromising my ability to help Marty run his table. It’s best if you don’t depend on me for anything desperate while we’re in Dallas.

June 1st I will return to my apartment and pass out for three days underneath the floorboards, eating small insects and rodentia and rebuilding my strength for the day when I may rise again to once more wreak my unholy havoc upon the world.

Oh, wait. That was Marty’s copy. Uh. I’ll be around the first week of June. I’ll be tired, but I’ll be here. ;}

I’d say the next four hours are the best time for you to contact me if you have something absolutely urgent that must be dealt with before I head out of town—so get on that, it’s probably your last chance for a couple of weeks. Otherwise, I’ll be back in the saddle (or toppling, exhausted, out of it?) the first week of June, and we’ll catch everything up then. (In fact, by then, a normal work week will feel like a blessing from Heaven. Looking forward to that!)

If you are just dying for more posts and you can’t stand to be without something Megan M. for a whole! week! you can feel free to check out The Social NetWorker blog at Social Work prn—my posts there will keep going up Tuesdays and Thursdays as usual. Magic! As for my Personal Revelations, I’m sure I’ll have a great store of them when I return from the hills.

Just hang on a week or two, while I turn my brain over. ;}

Sir Ken Robinson quotes Michaelangelo: “I did not make this sculpture. I revealed it. It was there already in the stone. All you have to do is remove the bits that aren’t the David.” Perhaps any personal development is not necessarily so much about building, but also very much about chipping away.

Sir Ken’s analogy for application: “We should start removing the bits that aren’t us, and allow the bits that are us to shine forth.”

Yeah.

• The new Freak Revolution launch, what it all means and what y’all can do with it
• Unschooling and the education system, and our various opinions thereof
• How IMPORTANT it is to be different, and good at it!

And geeze, a ton more. What Pace and Kyeli are pursuing here is something very dear to my heart—the strength and proliferation of diversity, something I’ve written about in the original Tribes Casebook and at least a billion other times in my blog and elsewhere.

Freak Revolution Podcast mp3

Pour yourself a drink, browse to FreakRevolution.com, sit back and enjoy our 39 minutes of world-changing mojo! And, uh, don’t mind my circus ringleader opening, I promise the whole thing’s not like that…

THE WHOLE WORLD.

The whole world is a scary, horrible, terrifying place that gives no quarter in hours of stress. You can’t run away. You can’t hide. It is always out there, waiting for you. You are expected to just put up with it and be brave and be strong and so you put on a chirpy happy face and pretend everything is okay even though you are SHITTING YOURSELF in terror.

And there is nothing more terrifying than getting your fat measured by your svelte CrossFit coach on a Sunday afternoon.

NOTHING.

So I go to get my body composition measured because it’s happening today and I want to know if the measurements I took on my own were correct.

I’m pretty sure they weren’t, but I’m hoping they aren’t worse.

They can’t really be higher than I think they are, can they?

First I write down some goals (very nice goals, I think) and then we measure circumferences of limbs and things. I stand there and pretend it’s completely normal. La la la, nothing much, just getting my FAT MEASURED by my CrossFit coach! Ho hum, lazy Sunday afternoon, let’s see what my body fat percentage is today, I look over his shoulder as he writes it down, FORTY PERCENT?? There’s a plus sign, what does that plus sign mean? OVER FORTY PERCENT!?

Much higher than I thought. A part of me dies quietly of horror, and the rest of me makes pleasant conversation. “Ha ha, it was such a coincidence that you were doing body composition today, since I measured myself exactly a week ago and expected to do it again pretty much now,” ha ha, what SERENDIPITY! THAT’S SO FUNNY! Would you like more fat to measure? HERE’S MY BUTT, LET’S MEASURE THAT!

I was going to write this post a few weeks ago, when I started the instructional classes. I was going to write it then because, while I have maintained my internal composure excellently in the days leading up to CrossFit classes and in the spaces between them, I have rediscovered every single class how absolutely fundamentally terrifying it is for me to be there. Just to be there. And I finally wrote this post today because on the way home from measuring my body composition I remembered how very much I wanted to hyperventilate into a paper bag just thinking about it. Why, Megan? Why should this be terrifying?

Well… here’s the problem.

I don’t really believe I’m meant to be there.

I don’t really see myself as ever occupying the same universe Emily does, with her 125 pounds of muscle and 10% body fat. I can’t imagine how I can possibly belong at CrossFit. There is a small part of me who is waiting to be kicked out. “You can’t do these things,” they will say. “You’re not good enough. You’re different. You’re just not capable of them.” And I won’t be allowed to attend classes anymore. Maybe they won’t even refund my money! Because I’m not like them, not worth bothering with.

Every little indignity rubs the terror in, even though they haven’t kicked me out (yet, something says to me)—that I’m not like them, and not good enough. I needed to be in the beginners’ classes instead of the regular CrossFit classes. I can’t keep up with the run. I can’t do a fake, easy pushup. I run out of oxygen so fast when we’re doing anything. And apparently my body fat is ten percent higher than I thought it was. O GOD, the VIOLENCE done by NUMBERS!

Why is it that I think I’m “not like them”? Well, I’m just not capable of the things they’re capable of. I have to make excuses for myself—oh, I hurt myself easily. I can’t move that fast. I’ve never been able to do regular pushups. Whine, excuse, complain. Every time we learn something new, I actually have to STIFLE THE REFLEX to take someone aside and let them know that I need to do something different because I’m not like everyone else. I’m supposed to be an exception. A weaker exception. My whole life, I have made allowances for myself. It’s okay, you just can’t do what they’re doing. That doesn’t make you a bad person.

BUT IT DOES. IT DOES, it DOES make me a bad person. It makes me a bad person BECAUSE THOSE WERE ALL LIES!!

BIG FAT STINKING LIES!!

My whole life I’ve been lying to myself saying that I can’t be like that, I can’t be strong, I can’t be fast, I can’t feel good, I’ll never be able to climb a tree or run a race or fight evildoers with my bare fists, I have completely exempted myself from those categories, and I’ve been telling myself these LIES for SO MANY YEARS that NOW I FINALLY BELIEVE THEM. I believe them so powerfully that the very act of attending a CrossFit class—completely separate from the fear of being physically unattractive, of not being liked, of having spent money on the wrong solution—the very ACT of participating instills an enormous amount of terror just because I’m afraid I don’t belong there. Afraid that if they really knew who they were dealing with, they’d reject me out of hand. And wondering when they’ll find out, wondering how long I’ll last before they do. WHEN WILL THE OTHER SHOE DROP? Will they yell? Will they be disappointed? Will they be disgusted with themselves for not having seen it sooner?

How long before they realize I’m not capable and exile me to a special country for incapable people? How long? How long do I have? Because the incredibly perverse part of all of this is that with all of the effort, and the grunting and the sweating and the exhaustion and the struggle to have enough oxygen to breathe and the embarrassment of consistently being the very last person back from the 400 meter run, with 98% of visible participants slimmer or prettier than me, with Marty being insanely stronger and more conditioned than I am and better at all of it, even with everything else I’ve mentioned, with the sheer impossibility of ensuring my appearance when my hair is pinned up and my clothes are soaked in sweat…

With all of that…

All those things, the perverse part is…

I actually… LIKE IT.

I want to do it.

I don’t want them to kick me out. I don’t want them to tell me that they made a mistake, that I can’t really do this thing after all. I don’t want Em to IM me someday and say, You know, it might just be better if you did something else instead…

I am so afraid that someone will make me stop, when part of me is absolutely certain that I don’t deserve to keep going. And I like doing it so much I could CRY, because it scares the HELL out of me to go.

The world is like this.

The world is a fucking terrifying place with bad monsters and a perceived ability to hear all the negative thoughts in people’s heads when they look at you and situations that are hard and the frequent discovery that you’re worse than everyone else at the thing you thought you were good at.

The world is hard and scary and awful.

But you have to keep living there ANYWAY. You have to keep trying. You have to chip away at the thing, you have to change yourself. THIS is not an opportunity, this is not an obligation, this is a FACT. Opting out produces no results. No one can change you FOR you. You have to make the hard things happen because you’re obstinate enough to push and push and push until they do. You can’t just stop because something is scary. You have to be scarier. You have to be stronger and braver.

THAT is why I’ll go to every freaking CrossFit class. I will go five days a week as soon as they’ll let me in June, and I will love every minute of it. I will go to free workouts on Saturdays. I will voluntarily get my body fat measured and I will do it with a smile on my face, month after month after month. I will do the pushups I “can’t do” and I will run that 400 meters every time even if I’m way behind because that’s the only way for any of it to get better. Inside my head I will cry and scream and insist that I CAN’T and think of ways to trick them into letting me stay instead of making me leave, and I will sweat and pant and be afraid and keep going anyway.

Outside, I will look brave and determined and continue to do everything I’m supposed to do to get through this. I will keep going when it’s horrible, when it’s hard, when I can’t figure out how it ends, I have to keep going because NOTHING ELSE WILL GET ME THROUGH. Because the only alternative is to stop, and that’s no alternative at all.

Just wanting to feel better won’t make me strong. Pretending, lying to myself, won’t make me strong. Talking about it won’t make me strong. Being a pansy and getting away with less than my best won’t make me strong. Making excuses won’t make me strong. ONLY DOING IT WILL MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

So god help me, I’m going to do it.

Red-faced and terrified, I will conquer the world.