I always thought my Grandfather was Puerto Rican

I always thought my grandfather was Puerto Rican. I realize for most people this would be a simple problem to fix, you would either ask your grandfather directly where he was born and where his parents were born, or if he had passed away, ask his wife or children where he was born. For me, and for my Mom, neither was a possibility.

Raised by her Mom and for a brief period, her foster family, my Mom never knew her biological father. Add to that the abyss of record keeping for African Americans before 1870 or so, and you end up with a person (me) who has never really been sure where his nationality lies before distant relatives "immigrated" (according to Ben Carson) to North Carolina. They probably read a nice brochure and weighed their options between that spot or somewhere in the Caribbean and chose the balmy tobacco fields of Tarheel country. Snarkiness aside, I have always wondered about my pre-American heritage.

For those of you who can trace your relatives back to the colonies or a specific ship, I am in awe. Growing up in a predominantly Italian town, I learned that families' records were sometimes murky, but common family names and Ellis Island archives have allowed many people I know to be able to trace how their last name's spelling has changed over the years, the town in Italy where their family spent much of their lives, and other knowledge tidbits that allow them to proudly fly an Italian flag below the American one.

For me, my knowledge of Africa is sparse at best. American history was the largest segment of history I learned, and that was heavily centered on lessons of the first Thanksgiving, Civil War battles and other trivia which I appreciate but leaves many other parts of the world forgotten. So, with a very thoughtful gift from my girlfriend, I sent in to AncestryDNA to have my heritage defined more explicitly.

AncestryDNA takes the data from my DNA markers and compares it to population data from 26 different regions. After running this comparison 40 times to get the best estimate of what regions my family genetically connects to based on current research,  AncestryDNA gave me an ethnicity estimate. It is just that: an estimate. The estimate could change over time, depending on what new research might reveal. 

After this whole process, my results narrowed down to the regions below. West Africa, parts of the Mediterranean and a concentrated area of North Carolina.

My first reaction was frustration. Really - after years of science progress, I know now that my roots are somewhere on the coast of Africa? Some economics and straight lines drawn with a ruler could have given me that answer.

But, I suppose there's more.

The results show me a lot about what's not there. I had always been under the impression that I had some Spanish or Latin American heritage from what my Mom told me about her father and where he and her Mom met. The numbers show differently. Not a trace of Spain or Latin American anything are in the results. I had taken a kind of DNA grouping test before and had results come back from Sudan and other parts of Northeast Africa. I am told I look Ethiopian by many Ethiopians. Nope, not in the numbers.

It appears that whether it's Nigeria, Cameroon or Benin, my family's roots are in West Africa. I know there are debates about how accurate these results are, how they are populated by a small number of black or African samples, and other evolving scientific conerns. But what do these results tell me? With this process, I was hoping to have a better answer for the eternal ambiguous question "But where are you from?" which follows the question "where are you from?" From these results, I do not have a solid nationality I can point to. But at least now I have a place I can start.

I can start with the basics of these countries - Nigeria, Cameroon, Benin. I can begin to follow their news, I can begin to learn about their leaders. I can read basic history and start to understand how such a vile slave trade began. I can visit.  I can read the countries' literature and solidify my family's connection to other countries before America at family reunions and gatherings. Down the road, I can point people in a better direction when they group Africa into one country or appropriate what they do not know much about.

And most importantly, I now have a legitimate excuse to learn how to make another great rice dish, some Jollof Rice to be exact. What's more exciting than learning about a new country through their food?

However, the exact percentages above made me think of some other questions. Above what percentage do you get the right to claim a country as your own nationality? What is the highest nationality percentage out there? Is a 90% nationality something to be proud of at this point in human history? What answer from Ancestry would have satisfied me?

I don't have the answer to any of those questions right now, and if you take a DNA ancestry test, I'd love to know your reaction and what you did with the information. President Obama had a unique perspective on matters of race and an outlook that he shared more and more in his second term. In his graduation speech to Howard University, he said: 

"We cannot sleep walk through life. We cannot be ignorant of history. We can't meet the world with a sense of entitlement... We have cousins and uncles and brothers and sisters who we remember were just as smart, just as talented as we were, but somehow got ground down by structures that are unfair and unjust and that means we have to not only question the world as it is, and stand up for those African Americans who haven't been so lucky."

I know now that my grandfather probably wasn't Puerto Rican, and I also know that for whatever reason, I have been lucky enough to have been born in a time and place where many things are possible. More background in my heritage gives me a greater personal reason not to be ignorant of history and to not only question how many of us got here, but more importantly, where we can go from here.

Bar do David - the 2 Sides of Rio

The novelty of arriving in a foreign place and swiping my phone a few times to get picked up in air conditioned comfort had not worn off. Mostly for the air conditioning. We had arrived in Rio after a few days in the North of Brazil in the city of Salvador, a pace filled with music, European architecture and the occasional gringo.

Once in Rio de Janiero, it wasn't long before the snarling traffic and busy streets gave up their fight to block the city's natural beauty and I was staring at miles of oceanfront, or at a minimum, grassy hillsides which blocked the blue sky. We had given our Uber driver the address for our Airbnb accomodations. That sentence could mean a lot of things depending on where you are. In New York, that could mean an $80 ride to go 3 miles for a sky-high apartment. But for us it meant a $15 ride to the outskirts of the Favela do Leme, a police-protected favela on the outskirts of Leme beach, just to the northeast of Copacabana. 

If the Airbnb pictures lived up to the hype, we would be relaxing in a hammock in no time. As the car pulled up to Bar do David, the local restaurant and bar at the base of the steep hill of the favela, we were greeted by a flurry of activity. The wait staff sat down next to customers taking orders in outdoor seating that blended into the street itself. Next to Bar do David was a less pricey restaurant which barely attempted to distinguish itself between home and dining establishment. 

This was the Leme Favela - everything moving at once - kids playing after school, the sounds of futbol and gospel-influenced music blending together. Smells of Bar do David's carefully prepared food transitioned to aromas closer to the streets of New York as we climbed the hill tour Airbnb not-quite-paradise. The above picture of the apartment was the highlight - there's a reason the bedrooms weren't shown in the original listing... No matter - Bar do David was really good - we went there 2 times, and it reflected the 2 sides of Brazil fighting for the spotlight.

The first time we came to Bar do David was the authentic Brazil.

"Do you know this man?" David himself, the owner of the bar and restaurant proudly held a photo of a businessy-looking white man. From David's grin ear to ear I knew I was expected to know the main in the photo posing with David. 

"Err... ahh.. Oh, I can't think of it."

"Michael Bloomberg!" David exclaimed. I know the basics of Bloomberg's background, but I admit that "old white man" would have been my best guess with politics thankfully out of my mind for the past few days of the trip.

"Oh wow, that's awesome," I replied. I was genuinely surprised which can often be confused with sarcasm since the range of my inflection is as broad as the back of a Fiat.

"He came to visit - right here." David was beaming at this point. And it was clear why the community around Leme was so proud of this place. The food was of course very good. Simple dishes like pork and beans, steak and salad, fried fish and mashed potatoes - all of which sound better explained in Portuguese, all for about $3 US.

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But more than the food, Bar do David represented the warmth of being welcome. It represented the simplicity of what locals love about Rio and maybe Brazil in general. Simple, bold flavors, enjoying the warmth of the sun, being close to a stiff drink, but never getting too far from family. It was a great introduction to the favela, which still had its rough spots. Outside of the aromatic food, a few yards away from the restaurant were the smells and sights of real life. Laundry drying, pets roaming (and leaving a trail), graffiti that celebrated Brazil but also complained about life's hardships. 

Our waitress was patient with us as we translated the menu word by word and smiled with a nod as we (mostly my girlfriend) suggested Spanish translations for the Portuguese words of "grilled", "soup", and "blackened". 

"Sim, Sim!" She agreed with a smile. Looking both frazzled and happy at the same time. She was around 7 months pregnant, we learned, hoping to name her daughter Sofia. For a second, we felt a part of the small community. To our eyes, worries about the stalling economy, impending impeachment proceedings and other news-cycle concerns didn't seem to be on the minds of those around us. But then again, the crashing waves close by do wonders to lessen the noise of all those struggles. 

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The second time we came to Bar do David we seemed to experience the Brazil the world it expects it to be. With the World Cup a few years ago, and the upcoming Olympics. Brazil (Rio especially) wants to continue proving to the world that it is a world-class place. Walking around Ipanema, Santa Theresa and the houses by Rio's lake - it seems to be true. There are beautiful people and expensive restaurants. Bikeshare racks line the streets between vendors selling everything from coconuts to fried cheese. (I really don't understand fried cheese as a beach food - vendors set up a small fire of charcoal and then heat up the cheese for you to enjoy in the hot sun. Sounds refreshing?...)

The entertainment side of Rio does live up to the hype. But still, it's as if the beachfront would like to be a 24/7 music video in real life. It seems to be what tourists expect, no matter how hard it is for locals to afford the food, or how long it takes for beach rental stands to set up the yards and yards of umbrellas, caipirinha tables, volleyball nets and beach chairs. 

As we sat at Bar do David the second time, our server was just as friendly, but a little more tired. Bar do David was applying for one of its dishes to be nominated in a regional "Best of Rio" contest. She was dutifully folding flyers and describing the seafood appetizer to the bar patrons. Bar do David was trying to establish itself as more than a watering hole for the favela community and tap into the more lucrative Rio tourism scene. As we sat, a promotional yellow car rolled up, blaring music. Out stepped a male and female model, smiling and high-fiving the formerly peaceful Bar do David patrons. 

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Shots of Santa Dose were poured. A disturbingly tasty combination of banana and cachaca, the promoters circled the bar, bringing the blaring music of Lapa into the relatively quiet hillside.

The sweet shots and bumping music reminded me of the constant battle to exude the club vibe that is the Rio stereotype - easy women, flowing drinks, glistening sand. But at the same time, people have to live. Little Sofia will be born in a few more weeks to a country struggling to live up to its BRIC expectations that were so promising 10 years ago. Michel Temer's temporary place of leadership has a lot to address as he leads while Rousseff defends herself during the simultaneous gold medal battles ensue. 

I loved my short stay in Rio and a few other places in Brazil. It's a country that celebrates its African influences, rather than tucking them away, as some places in South America do. It's a country that knows it has many natural resources but also knows beauty is nothing without having friendly people. I can pretend that all of Rio's struggles were summarized in two visits to a small bar/restaurant in a favela, but that's far from the truth. Like any country, it's story takes a lifetime to experience and generations to understand.

Regardless, go visit Rio and any other place in Brazil when you can. It lives up to the hype, even if the hype is being forced on you by the latest sponsored liquor. 

7 Years In - the 7 Stages of CrossFit

I walked into CrossFit Tysons Corner seven years ago at the end of September right after moving to the DC area, signing up for a monthly membership on October 1. Coach Matt told me, "We don't  have our regular workout today, but you're welcome to stay for Hoover Ball." Two  things about that: 1 - I had never been assigned a workout walking into a gym, and 2 - what the hell is Hoover Ball? I played the game - basically a version of Volleyball, where a medicine ball is tossed over a net and if it touches the ground, your whole team gets a penalty. After the workout, I thought to myself, "what a strange group of people."

Seven years later, I'm at the same gym as a trainer, and to say I've never looked back would be a lie. I would say a more accurate description is that I haven't found anything that can fill the efficiency in terms of time to results, camaraderie, or challenge that CrossFit brings. Those seven years include 4 half marathons, a Tough Mudder, the Civilian Military Combine, Parkour classes, (not enough) yoga classes, gymnastics classes, flag football, intramural soccer, countless 5 and 10Ks, hotel workouts, Planet Fitness doldrums, and skulling classes on the Potomac. All of those were fun, but not something that could hold my interest for a long time. Plus, I've made some really close friends through the gym (I still can't call it a box) that have become close to family. Blah blah blah, you've heard it before, I know. But I think anyone's relationship with CrossFit boils down to 7 stages. The stage you land on is up to you -- others more motivated, younger or with a better athletic background than me will blast through these stages in weeks or months, not necessarily years.

Stages 1 - 3: The beginning loop

1: Intro

For some reason, you find yourself in an empty warehouse space staring at a row of pull-up bars and squat racks. Blame it on your friend, significant other, magazine article, or the impending expiration of a Groupon, but you make it to your first class. The experience can vary - either you leave pumped and invigorated by the simple moves that leave you gasping for breath, or your head is swimming from the coach that validated his existence by every gymism or made-up CrossFit lingo that he can manage. Whatever, the first day is over.

2: Show Up

That first class at least caught your interest, and you come back. Or perhaps you signed up for a multi-week fundamentals course. Or perhaps you saw a cute guy/girl on your first day. And you come back again. And again. Nothing really sinks in, but you average 2 or 3 days a week, experiencing the high of finding a workout where you hold your own, and the low of watching someone with ___ body type do infinitely more weight than you in infinitely less time. For me, this period lasted longer than I care to admit. Probably a year or two, maybe three. I didn't make many friends in the gym (mostly because I didn't want to and was very quiet), and having just come from grad school, I didn't care to base my schedule around what seemed like a random workout. Depending on the gym though, this Show Up phase could incorporate a bunch of other phases. Maybe you stumbled onto a gym run by an inspired regional athlete, and you progress very quickly. Or on the flip side, maybe you've found a xfit spin-off, that uses konstantly varyed funxional movements at higher intensities. It's crossfit, not CrossFit and something has been lost in translation. If this is the case, you can unintentionally stay in Show Up phase for a long, long time.

3: YouTube Infatuation

YouTube, ESPN, Instagram, whatever platform. One day you type in the name of a workout or athlete you've heard of, and... House of Cards style, you forget when the last time you ate was because you're in click heaven. For some, this is their intro into CrossFit, skipping past the need for a friend to introduce them, and instead getting mesmerized by abs on dudes, or abs on girls, or maybe even videos that just mock CrossFit. Whatever the case, you realize that there is passion and results in the area of CrossFit, for or against the workout style. Here, you may gain a little knowledge, but more importantly, you realize that just showing up on a random schedule won't get you to YouTube fame very quickly.

4: Competition

At some point, whether it is the CrossFit Open, an internal gym competition, or signing up for an obstacle race or other "functional fitness" competition, you will compete in CrossFit. This is when you realize - "Damn, what have I been doing?" You see women flying through muscle-ups and old men lifting more than the best high school version of yourself. Or in my case, you ask for people's goals and realize you've been selling yourself short for too long. Even if you have no desire to compete again, the "Show Up" phase is over. You start to appreciate the coach's cues, or realize that your coach doesn't know what they're doing. You watch instructional YouTube videos, instead of performance videos. Maybe you sign up for a CrossFit certificate course or begin filming your own performance so that you can fix faults and not just show off. Maybe you visit a different gym on a road trip and get your a** handed to you at your best workout. At this stage, the progress comes quickly - you've mentally committed, and likely this stage also brings along diet changes - paleo, Zone, Whole 30, gluten free, Renaissance, you'll try anything your man crush suggests. Life is good, and the next competition is going to be different.

5: Breakup

Then, tragedy strikes. Anyone who tells you they have loved every single part about CrossFit forever and always is lying. As the sport and fitness trend expands, so does the chance to run into someone who rubs you the wrong way. Do you love everyone at your job or in your extended family? Do you expect to love every CrossFitter? Probably not. So maybe it's a personal conflict that fuels the breakup with CF. Maybe your only interest was in dating a guy/girl in the gym, and for whatever reason, CF fizzles along with your love for him/her. Or, a likely scenario is that you run into an injury. CrossFit, if done correctly, does not mean you will eventually get injured. But what's more likely is that in your "Show Up" phase, you didn't take the fundamentals to heart. You could muscle through a handstand, do curls for cleans, or develop bad habits while squatting. It happens to everyone. The best gyms will help you avoid this phase. But sometimes, they can't save you from yourself. On top of CrossFit, you're going to night classes and sleeping 4-5 hours a night, training for a 10K, and doing adventure races. You've also cut out meat and count calories, because that is "healthy". You don't tell the coach because you want to prove you can improve on the previous competition. You ignore a twinge or tweek during a workout, and then... it's breakup consideration time as you lie on the physical therapy or massage table. From here, you either ease yourself back into CF land with a new perspective or you walk away from CF, realizing it's just not for you.

6: Education

The only way to really break out of the intro cycle through breakup, is to educate yourself. Even if it's admitting that there's one coach at your gym has never really helped you, that's education. Shifting your schedule to avoid that coach, or trying other gyms - that's still education. That doesn't mean he or she is a bad coach, more likely that they're a bad coach for how you learn. You don't have to go through pre-med curriculum to educate yourself, but you will need to be more proactive. Everyone responds differently and learns differently. For me, I realized that I react defensively to cues if I don't understand them. My only way to improve was to see my own errors, and then I am OK if a coach reminds me and helps me to correct them. It's made me sign up for the CF Level I cert (I had no intention of becoming a coach), because I felt I was missing the link between programming as a whole and an individual workout. The need for education made me sign up for the CF Level II cert because I realized I didn't have confidence in my coaching abilities.

7: The Decision

Once you admit to yourself that you don't know everything, the sky is the limit with CrossFit. Do you want to help others avoid your mistakes by becoming a coach? Have you continued to improve exponentially after going back to basics in your education phase and you know that you have the mindset for competition? Have you seen a gap in the products out there or gyms in your area that you can serve with a business idea? Or do you realize that CrossFit helps you in other aspects of your life and realize that CF workouts 3-4 times a week is just what you need to have a better lifestyle? After 7 years, I think the biggest mistake in CrossFit is that people try to skip from YouTube infatuation to Elite Competition without the in between steps. If you're 18, you can probably do this without too much pain. If you're 28, that window is incredibly small to get right. It requires the right combination of coach, gym environment, humility, and competitiveness that sometimes leaves people broken.

You can do the things that make you you without putting CrossFit front and center.

After 7 years, I'm still learning that there is nothing wrong with CrossFit as a lifestyle. It helps you play with your kids, you can run a 10K or mud run without too much additional effort. You can still go to yoga/swimming/knitting/book club without having to wake up at 5AM and prepare bottles and tupperware to get you through the week. You can do the things that make you you without putting CrossFit front and center. My elite competition window has closed, but that doesn't mean my education and coaching phase needs to end. An effective trainer teaches, sees, corrects, manages groups, has presence and attitude, and demonstrates movements perfectly. Its the last two areas of presence/attitude and demonstration that I'm pretty sure I can spend the next 7 years on, and that's fine with me. My path to better demonstration will involve yoga, olympic lifting, mobility (oh so much mobility) and gymnastics instruction. That's not a short road for someone who's 30, and that's OK. Eventually, I do want to take the CF Level III cert, so I can officially earn the title of Coach, even if I don't coach a day after I pass that milestone. I don't think CrossFit is going anywhere any time soon. Perhaps it's not for you, but if you've already given it a try, why not make sure you get to step 6 before hanging up those high socks?