Monthly Archives: July, 2013

We all got burpees

Yesterday was a pretty ouchie one.  Even though those 135# deadlifts (THIRTY OF THEM!) weren’t too terribly awful, they still made my butt really, really sore.  I’m sure the guys at the tire store were wondering what the hell was wrong with me when I hobbled in.

Yeah, I finally got new tires.  They were sorely needed–my left front tire had a slow leak that wasn’t so slow anymore, and while my old tires weren’t bald, exactly, they were getting rather thin on top.  Driving in the rain was starting to get a little nerve-wracking.  I hate buying shoes for my car even more than I hate buying shoes for myself, and that is a lot of hate.  But it beats the alternative of sliding off the road in spectacular fashion and dying in a fiery explosion when I hit a tree.  I’ll be back at work and getting a regular paycheck again in less than two weeks, so it’s okay.

So I went into last night’s WOD with my butt having been soundly kicked, only to find out I was going to be kicked all over, mostly in the lung parts.

  • 20 situps
  • 10 burpees
  • 10 pullups’
  • 20 KB swings

Four rounds.  Three minutes’ rest.  Three rounds.  Two minutes’ rest.  Two rounds.  One minutes’ rest.  One round for good measure.

If you’re counting, and I most definitely was, that is ten rounds.  Two hundred situps and swings.  One hundred burpees and pullups.

I’ve done a hundred burpees in a WOD before.  When we did our Memorial Day Murph, about 70-some people showed up, and we only have space for about half that on our pullup stations.  So those of us who sucked at pullups subbed another movement.  I chose burpees.  Two months later I’m still not sure I chose wisely.

The first four rounds were physically the hardest, but I think the mentally-hardest was the second round in the 2-round round (right round baby right round like a record baby right round round round).  I was completely wiped, and I had one more bit of rest coming up, but I knew after that one short minute I had to keep working.  Only for one round, yes, but still.  That round had ten burpees, just like the other nine.

And as expected, it took for-freaking-ever.  Those damn burpees dragged me down so hard.  My final time was 42:20-something.  When I finished, I staggered over to the rope-climb mats and collapsed in a giant heap, and Coach just LAUGHED at me.  (Granted, it might have been a somewhat overly-dramatic heap, but I have a theatre degree so I feel I’m entitled to a little drama now and then.)

And I’m still being somewhat dramatic.  Seriously, the WOD wasn’t that bad.  Yes, it hurt, yes, I wanted to die, yes, I cursed all those evenings I spent sitting on my ass and stuffing my face with Cheez-Its and Hot Pockets, but at no point did I consider quitting.  And I was super-duper proud of myself for swinging a 35# KB for every rep.

Yesterday morning, my butt was sore; this morning, my everything-else is sore.  But it’s the kind of sore I can be proud of.  And it’s gray and drizzly and feels more like October than the last day of July (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY POTTER!), and I’m at home with coffee and puppy and kitty and knitting and a bunch of fat-ass doves who keep trying and failing to sit on the bird feeder.  It’s pretty awesome.

I’m a broke-azz mo-fo, but my life is not too shabby.

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Day of the Dead(lift)

After the savage beating we endured Saturday morning, I was kind of hoping for something sweet ‘n simple to kick us off on Monday.  With the 6:30pm, it’s pretty easy to tell if you’re in for an unpleasant experience just by looking at the faces of the 5:30 when you walk in.  And I was pleased to see that nobody looked to be on (or over) the verge of death, and only a few were still working out (that class nearly always works in 2 heats, sometimes 3; it’s usually pretty big).  That’s always a good sign.

It’s kind of fun to guess the WOD by just looking at the equipment lying around.  Box jumps were obvious, as were wall balls, and the presence of a dozen really f-ing heavy barbells shouted DEADLIFTS!

I like deadlifts.  I really, really, really like them.  It doesn’t get much more simple than “pick up this big heavy thing.”  I know, I know, it’s not that easy–you have to know the proper way to do it so you don’t paralyze yourself, but… it’s still pretty simple.  I have not yet had the opportunity to find my 1-rep max, but I am looking forward to that day, whenever it is.

So!  Yesterday we had 15 minutes to warm up on deadlifts.  Rx for the WOD was 225/155; I am certain I could pick up 155, but not for the prescribed number of reps.  My partner and I worked our way up to 135#, and both of us agreed that would work fine.

The WOD was 4 rounds of wall balls, box jumps, and deadlifts, 27(12), 21(9), 15(6), and 9(3) reps.  I hope that’s clear (parenthetical reps are the deadlifts).  Coach gave us a time cap of 11 minutes, but told us most of us would get it done in less than ten.

Well, it took me ten minutes and 22 seconds, but whatever, because I picked up 135 pounds, thirty times.  My box jumps were not jumps, they were steps, because I had a 20″ box and pairing them with wall balls is just mean.  But yay deadlifts!  I picked up that big heavy thing!  And I liked it!

I fought the WOD (and the WOD won)

I’m sure our coaches are not alone in scheduling longer, more challenging WODs on Saturday mornings.  It’s the beginning of the weekend, and theoretically you’ve got until Monday morning to sit around on your arse and refuel with pork chops and Netflix (that’s how we do it, anyway).  So why not work a little harder and earn a couple drinks while you’re at it, right?  (This logic will fail dismally when I go back to work full-time in a couple weeks, because I work more weekends than I have off, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.)

I was a little apprehensive about this weekend’s WOD.  I had only returned after a week off on Friday, and I felt like I’d gotten a little flat in that week.  Friday’s WOD left me pretty sore in the thighs from all those lunges, and I knew Saturday wasn’t exactly going to be a leisurely stroll.  I was sitting on the floor, getting my head in the game, and Coach came over to say hi.  He had been traveling for work all week, so he didn’t realize I hadn’t been in at all.  I told him I was feeling better, but still a little gimpy, and he told me to take it easy today.

FUNNY MAN.  He hadn’t planned a WOD for us today, he had planned a vicious, painful beating.  At least, that’s how I felt about it.

To start off with, he split us all into six groups of 2 men/2 women.  There were 5 movement stations; half the groups went from 1 to 5, while the other half went from 5 to 1.

  1. Team sandbag carry–each member of the team does a 400m run with the sandbag.  While each person is out running, the other three are working in rotation to accumulate as many KB swings as possible.
  2. Pair up within the team (boys/girls) and trade off doing 50 DU or 100 singles.  5 rounds of that.
  3. Each team member does 10 squat cleans, in order from least weight to most.
  4. Pair up boys/girls again, and trade off doing 10 ball slams, 15 pushups, and 30 air squats.  5 rounds of that.
  5. Team 2k row–each person rows 500m; the remaining three are accumulating plate burpees.

The kicker is that, at the end, whichever way you’re going up or down the list, your team is not finished until you’ve accumulated the same number of burpees or KB swings as the team who first used that station.  Even if you’re finished with the row or run, you all still keep working until the reps are completed.

I realize that upon first reading, the WOD doesn’t look that bad.  Looking back, it shouldn’t have beaten me up nearly as bad as it did.  It appears that there’s a good amount of rest in there, and honestly there was.  But I don’t know, maybe it was just the fact that I was coming back from a week off, and team WODs are difficult or impossible to scale without dragging everyone else down with you… but this WOD was pure hell.

Honestly, it started off okay.  Coach gave us permission for one “wild card” on each team to run without the sandbag.  “You don’t have to have anyone run without it, but you can choose one if you need to.”  I told my team up front, I’ve been dealing with a gimpy rib, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to carry the bag.  But I wanted to at least try it, so one of the guys helped me hoist it up on my shoulders.  I hefted it a few times and it felt fine, so I started us off.  I was also able to swing a 35# KB on that station (WOOHOO I CAN RX SOMETHING!).  Our team accumulated 320 swings, and I have no idea how that compared to other teams, but it sounded respectable to me.

On to station 2.  I’ll say it right now, I don’t like jumping rope in any way, shape, or form.  I don’t know if it’s because I’m using the beat-up ropes that belong to the box, or if I’m just bad at jumping rope, but I’ve never gotten one DU and even singles are challenging sometimes.  I plan on buying my own rope so I can practice at home (and I know it will fit me and it won’t have a giant kink in the middle), but it’s not in the budget until I go back to work.  So for now, I suffer through with the provided ropes.  My first 100 singles went unbroken (WT ever-loving F), but after that I could not get back into a rhythm.  I was pretty frustrated by the end of it.

The ten squat-cleans weren’t too bad, although I did get a little tired of the “You got this, girl!  Come on!”  I just wanted to reply “OMG SHUT UP I’M TRYING TO BE CAREFUL SO I DON’T FUCK MY SHIT UP ALL OVER AGAIN I KNOW I’VE GOT THIS PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME.”  Team WODs, you guys.  I love ’em and I hate ’em.

Station 4 is where I really started to feel the strain.  As I’ve said before, ball slams aren’t a problem for me anymore, but I still suck at pushups.  Like, really bad.  I kind of have a thing about range of motion; if it’s not a good, deep pushup, I feel like I’m cheating.  But because I’m not strong at them, I only have about 6 or 7 reps at a time before I need a rest.  So even the relatively small sets of 15 pushups needed to be broken down into sets of 5 (or less, after the first round).  Mentally, that is pretty defeating.  The squats were pretty sucky, too, since my quads were already fairly well-toasted after Friday’s WOD.  Couple that with the fact that the other girl on the team was able to bust out her half of the round in like a minute, and I didn’t have a lot of recovery time before I had to get back to work.  By the time we finished that station, I was starting to feel pretty shitty.

And we ended with the row/burpees.  The team that started on our station was able to accumulate 180 burpees, and we had nothing to do but to get started.  My 500m row was the worst I’ve ever done, something like 2:19.  We split the burpees up into groups of 10, and on my second set, I started getting cramps.

If I have any male readers, you might want to skip this paragraph because this is where I talk about my uterus.  Sorry.

This is something that has always plagued me with intense exercise–I don’t know what causes it, but occasionally during a workout, I start getting period-type cramps, especially if I’m coming back after some time off.  There’s no spotting associated with it, and they usually go away quickly after I stop working.  They’re not much more than an annoyance.  But yesterday… OMG.  It was like the worst day of my worst period.  I was holding it together in front of everyone, but just barely.

Around the time we hit 100 burpees, Coach came over, crouched down next to me, and asked me how much we had left.  I told him we had one more row and about 80 burpees, and after a moment’s thought, he told me after our last member finished his row, we were finished.  I looked at the clock and was (and wasn’t) surprised to see it ticking over 53 minutes.  I wasn’t going to argue, so as soon as I saw Mark loosen the foot straps, I stopped burpeeing and walked away.  I headed straight for the bathroom, mostly just for the privacy (I didn’t really need the toilet), and in the mirror I saw a monster looking back.  I mean I really looked like hell, and I could barely stand upright.  After I collected myself, I walked over to the carpet where the 9:30 group was assembling, sat down on the floor and tried real hard not to betray how I really felt (which was bordering on homicidal).  Jason came over to check on me, and I told him “I want to leave IMMEDIATELY.”  He thought I had been in the bathroom puking, so he didn’t hesitate, he just hauled me to my feet, grabbed his keys, and we were out the door.

Anyway, we got home, I curled up in a ball for a while, Jason cooked breakfast, cramps subsided and I was fine, blah blah blah.  I’m not easily discouraged, but that hour-long WOD was just AWFUL.  I can honestly say I would not enjoy CrossFit Endurance.  I mean, the main appeal of CrossFit, for me, is that the WOD doesn’t take forever!  Warm-up, 20 or 25 minutes of hard work, cool-down, and we’re done.  If I wanted to suffer for over an hour, I’d just take up running again.

I guess the upside is that it’s only once a week, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

She’s baa-aaaack!

Was it really only one week ago that I went to the 5:30am and had to wimp out?  Crazy.  It feels like a month.  And I know I didn’t really lose much in that week, but I sort of feel like I’m starting all over.

But you know what, starting over, whether real or perceived, is infinitely better than continuing to sit on Injured Reserve.  Knitting is fun, and re-watching The Office feeds my soul (well… up to Season 7, anyway; 8 and 9 are just sort of meh), but when I don’t go to CrossFit, Jason’s is pretty much the only human face I see all day.  Don’t get me wrong, I love his face!  It’s pretty much my favorite face ever.  But even though I am a strong introvert, I feel a little flat when I don’t get any interaction with people.  CrossFit fills that need perfectly.  Everyone’s busy, so I don’t have to make painful small talk, and even the small talk I do engage in is by default about the WOD, so it’s not too difficult to sound like I give half a shit about the topic.  (I do give a shit about the WOD!  I give way more than half a shit, in fact–possibly even multiple shits!)  And more importantly, there’s a finite amount of time spent there.  It’s not like open-ended gatherings; there’s no agonizing over “What is an appropriate amount of time to stay here?  Is ten minutes enough?”  I go in, we chat for a couple minutes, we warm up, we work out, we cool down, and we leave.  At no point do I get distracted by plotting my escape.  I’m too busy sweating and sucking air.

Anyway, so… I worked out this morning!  And our coach had a WOD planned that I could easily phone in if I needed to.  We did a card game.  We ignored values, so all number cards were 10 reps, and aces/faces were 15.  The four movements were:

  • Push press (95/65 Rx, but I used 53#)
  • High wall balls (ladies throw to guys’ line; guys throw to 2 cinder blocks above that)
  • Toes to bar (or knees to chest, if you’re like me)
  • Overhead weighted walking lunges (I used a 15# plate)
  • Jokers = 800m run
  • 20 minute AMRAP.

I ended up with 25 knee raises, 30 wall balls, and 35 each of push press and lunges.  I totally wussed out on the wall ball–I used the 8-pounder.  And I had to be super-aware of bracing my trunk every time I cleaned the bar for the push press, because catching the clean still hurts, even at just 53#.  But at no point did my eyeballs pop out of their sockets, so that’s good.  I think I’m on the mend.

I did have a prize-winning klutz moment.  I managed to whack myself in the face with the 15# plate when I was setting up for my lunges.  That shit hurt.  I also brushed my chin with the bar during a push press, but that only barely made contact so I don’t think it counts.  Honestly, that sort of crap scares me more than just about anything else in CrossFit.  I just know I’m going to lose a tooth one of these days.

But not today.  Today was just a whack on the nose and a couple minutes of “Is it bleeding?  I hope it’s not bleeding.”

It’s good to be back.

I miss CrossFit.

More specifically, I miss:

  • the box.
  • all my friends at the box.
  • the giant fan that sounds like the space shuttle taking off.
  • working out to Eminem and Linkin Park, both of whom I hate in real life.
  • picking up heavy things.
  • putting them down again.
  • running next to the highway, my sweaty, beet-red face on display for half the county to see.
  • playing Guess The WOD in the car with Jason on the way to the box.
  • burpees.
  • (just kidding.)

This being-injured shit can go straight to hell.  I feel like I’ve lost everything I’ve gained since joining, and it’s compounded by the fact that when I do go back (tentatively Friday, unless my rib discontinues the steady improvement it’s made), I will still need to take a little easy with the heavy lifts.  I haven’t been able to work out in a week now, and it feels like a month.

Interestingly, I’m not worried about getting back into the habit of working out.  In the past, when I’ve had to take time off for injury or illness, it was really difficult to get back up on that pony; in fact it usually involved a handful of false starts and, in the case of running, scheduling a race to light a fire under my ass.  (I am extremely motivated by money; if I’ve spent the money on a race, no way in hell am I going to waste it.  The only time I did, it was because I buggered up my ankle during the training process and I couldn’t sell my bib.  70 bucks and a lot of enthusiasm down the crapper on that one.)  But from the beginning, I was totally excited about CrossFit.   As far as exercise goes, that’s a novel feeling.  Exercise has always been an unpleasant chore that makes me sweaty, hungry, sore, and tired.  But CrossFit is all of those things, plus fun and exhilarating!  After the intro, I couldn’t wait to go back to start the real stuff–there’s no ramp-up program at our box; the coaches just have newbies do super-scaled versions of the main WOD.  We hit the ground running, 5 days a week.

AND I MISS IT BAAAAAAAAHHHHHH.

Really though, my ribs feel a whole lot better than they did a few days ago, and I’m happy to be able to turn in my chair to tell Tegan to leave the cat alone without feeling like I’m being stabbed.

And I have gotten a lot of knitting done this week.  I really don’t know if my little designing venture will earn me any money, but I sure hope so!  (Mama needs a new computer.)

In Which Pickle Gets Sassed

Pickle wants to nap.  Tegan wants to play.

Pickle wants to nap. Tegan wants to play.

Pickle REALLY wants to nap.  Tegan REALLY wants to play.

Pickle REALLY wants to nap. Tegan REALLY wants to play.

"Mama, she won't play."

“Mama, she won’t play.”

"I hate my life."

“I hate my life.”

A Hostile Intercostal

I did not make it to CrossFit on Saturday.  My back was still bugging me, and I thought it best to continue taking time off.

So what better way to rest my back than to go to Turkey Run State Park, meet up and have a cookout with Jason’s family, and go for a really, really muddy hike?

When I say “Jason’s entire family,” that’s no small thing.  He’s the oldest of six boys.  All of his brothers are married or seriously dating, and all but one have at least one kid.  So with parents, brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews, and one aunt and uncle, there were 21 of us (22 if you count the puppy).  We were all gathered because Jason’s third-youngest brother and family are leaving on a 16-month mission trip to South Africa very soon, and the in-laws wanted to get everyone together one more time before they take off.

It was also the oldest niece’s 11th birthday, so we had a good time!  Everyone was feeling pretty good, including ready-to-explode Pregnant Sister-in-law, who has had a pretty rough time and is ready for the baby to born, like, yesterday.

My ability to hold it together in such a large group is pretty limited, though (what up, INFJs), so it wasn’t much time at all before I needed to get out for a hike.  At first we thought it was just going to be Jason, me, Tegan, one brother, and his wife (they’re the ones we hang out with the most, so they don’t really drain me).  Then we realize another brother and wife are following along.  And then we realize… the whole.group. is coming with us.  I just about had a meltdown before we even got to the trailhead, but I kept it together.

But then… we got out near the trails, and even though I could hear the strains of hundreds of park visitors through the ravines and trees, my blood pressure sloooowly started to dissipate and I began to enjoy the wonder that is an Indiana state park in July.

My hunny and my puppy.  D'awww.

My hunny and my puppy. D’awww.

On the banks of Sugar Creek.

On the banks of Sugar Creek.

World-Famous Indiana Limestone in the background.

World-Famous Indiana Limestone in the background.

And the mud begins...

And the mud begins…

Corgi Puppy + Stairs = Jason gets to carry her.

Corgi Puppy + Stairs = Jason gets to carry her.

This is the last time we were clean that day.

This is the last time we were clean that day.

After that, the trail became a little treacherous.  It would have been okay if we didn’t have an excited puppy, an expensive camera, and half the family chattering away while I tried to concentrate on not sliding into a ravine, but… that’s what we had.  It had just rained that morning, so everything was slick and wet, and even if it hadn’t rained, most of the trail was narrow, rocky, mossy, and covered with decomposing woodland material.  Jason and I always hike in our Vibram Five Fingers and while they grip like crazy, you can’t really expect anything to grip that kind of surface without fail.  I was starting to get a little nervous, and when we got boxed into a canyon with some lost-looking strangers, Jason and I decided it was in our best interests to let the family go on without us while we backtracked to an easier trail.  They had already gone up the side of the canyon and carried on, so we sent our neice ahead to let everyone know and we turned back.

After we got back to the gravel section of the trail, it was just a smooth, flat, wide path atop the cliffs along the creek.  There wasn’t much to look at, but honestly, we didn’t mind–Tegan is still so little, and we want her to like hiking.  She was being a really good girl–she happily greeted all the other people we met, she stayed on the path without trying to go diving into the underbrush, and she wasn’t prissy about getting dirty.

Sugar Creek, canoes, kayaks, and tubes.  Summer in Indiana.

Sugar Creek, canoes, kayaks, and tubes. Summer in Indiana.

Jason and Tegan, from the front this time.  She still wants to GOGOGO, even after at least three miles.

Jason and Tegan, from the front this time. She still wants to GOGOGO, even after at least three miles.

But given a few minutes, she passed out cold.  LOOK AT HOW DIRTY SHE IS.

But given a few minutes back at the shelter house, she passed out cold. LOOK AT HOW DIRTY SHE IS.

Seriously, disgustingly filthy.

Seriously, disgustingly filthy.  She smelled like a rotten log, too.

By the time we finished our hike/walk, Tegan looked like a homeless guy’s beard.  Her belly and feathers were just a mess of black, gritty dreadlocks, and her white bib was gray all the way up to her chin.  Thankfully she’s really good about bathtime; she got a good scrubbing when we got home and her white parts shined right up.  And she slept really, really well Saturday night.  But you know what, she is going to be one awesome hiking buddy when she grows up.  I can’t wait to take her camping next summer!

Yesterday.  I was still sore.  I began to think maybe it wasn’t muscular at all… maybe I was having some kind of weird, symptom-free kidney failure (Jason’s paranoia is rubbing off on me).  I’ve never had a pulled muscle hurt for quite this long.  So I decided today I’d go to the doctor.

Got up this morning… my Primary Care Physician can’t get me in until THE END OF AUGUST, because I guess when your HMO forces you to choose a doctor off a list and you can only ever go to that doctor unless it’s an emergency or a specific referral, and they put her name on your insurance card, you’re still technically a “new patient” after three years if you never actually schedule an appointment of any sort.  THIS IS MY PUNISHMENT FOR BEING HEALTHY.  I’m sorry I haven’t needed her services.  I guess I should have gone in for a baseline physical, but ugh… paying someone to tell me “Yep, you’re in great shape, keep up the good work”?  Grrrrrrrr.

So I went to urgent care.  And apparently I have pulled an intercostal muscle, which is between ribs (which is EXACTLY WHAT I ORIGINALLY THOUGHT I had done).  The reason it hadn’t gotten any better is because they typically take longer to heal; they never get a break, what with breathing and bending and being a living human being.  So the treatment is NSAIDs (they wrote a prescription, but I don’t need prescription-strength), ice, and rest.  The doctor also provided a script for muscle relaxers, but that’s completely unnecessary; it’s not interfering with sleep.  So I’m not going to have that one filled either.

So I paid someone to tell me to do exactly what I’ve been doing, just wait a little longer, and go back to CrossFit when I feel able.

I hate health care.

Short and Bitter.

Short version: couldn’t work out this morning.

All the frowny faces.  :c :c :c

Here’s how it happened.  When the alarm went off at quarter to dark in the morning, I realized my ribs were not.happy.  It was too early, too dark, too close to last night’s bedtime.  I told Jason, if there are any cleans in the WOD, I’m going to see if I can do something else.  So we get to the box, I wander over to the whiteboard, and I see:

SPRINTS!

  • 300m ROW
  • 30 BALL SLAMS
  • 15 POWER CLEANS

So… yeah.  Cleans.  I walked over to the coach and explained to her the situation, saying that other things haven’t bothered me, just catching a clean hurts.  She said, okay, how about you put a bar on a rack and do some push presses instead?  I said that sounded like it would work, and I proceeded to warm up with the rest of the class.

Well, I got about halfway through the warmup, right up to the little set of jumping jacks.  And I jumped… and I got jacked.  Seriously, it felt like someone walked up and punched me right between the ribs.  Coach happened to be walking by, caught my eyeballs as they popped out of their sockets, and without prompting, I said, “I think I’ll sit this one out.”  She told me to go roll it out, and I tried, but it felt like it made it worse (no surprise, since I’d been trying to roll at home with the same results).  Stretching felt better, so I spent the time while everyone else did the WOD in front of me (*SOB*) with some long, slow pulls, breathing into what felt like a giant bruise.

So lesson learned: if it hurts at home, don’t go in, because it won’t hurt any less in the box.  I’ll probably take tomorrow off, then Sunday is a rest day anyway… hopefully by Monday I can be back at it, if not 100% then at least 85 or 90.

I came home and knitted, watched more old episodes of The Office, and generally felt kind of sorry for myself.  Blah.

Maybe I should take some pictures of my knitting and share them.  This is NeYARNderthal, after all…

I shouldn’t be cleaning.

Haha, that’s funny, after yesterday’s housekeeping lament.  I’m talking about the Olympic clean, though.  (Olympic cleaning–vacuum one room, dust-mop four rooms, wipe down 3 sinks, wash elebenty-billion dishes, wash/fold/put away 3 loads of laundry for time.  I would lose so hard.  Big, fat DNF.)  Last night’s WOD started off with back squats–3 sets, 3-3-3+ reps.  I was a little concerned about my bitchy back, but it didn’t give me too much trouble.  I managed 95, 115, and 125, with 4 reps on the heaviest set.

Then the met con.  It was a partner WOD, which went something like this:

  • Partner 1 does 7 thrusters.
  • Partner 2 holds the bar overhead while Partner 1 does 7 burpee over-box jumps.  If Partner 2 drops the bar, Partner 1 has to pause.
  • Switch places, so Partner 2 does her 7 thrusters (Partner 1 rests), Partner 1 takes the bar and holds it overhead while Partner 2 does her burpees.

3 rounds of that, so each person does each thing three times.  Then run one lap on our track, which is basically 800m.  Then come back in and do the same stinking thing, with a heavier bar.

Jessie and I used a 45# bar for the first round, and we upped it to 55# for the second, finishing in 28:something (we were among the slowest ones in the box, mainly because it was so damn hot).  The thrusters didn’t hurt.  Holding the bar overhead didn’t hurt (in fact I kind of liked it).  Even the burpees didn’t hurt.  Cleaning the bar into rack position to prepare for thrusters or overhead hold?  That hurt.  Even with such a light bar.  So I think I know what I need to avoid until my back feels better.  Cleaning.  The heavy kind, not the household kind.  (Damn.)

Today is a rest day, and I will take good advantage of it.  I have lots of lovely knitting to do, I’ve started re-watching The Office from the beginning (for what feels like the 100th time, why yes I do have Seasons 1-4 almost entirely memorized, why do you ask?), and I have no reason to go to town today, so I will stay at home in my pajamas and knit and hang out with Jim and Dwight and okay, yeah, I’ll do a load of laundry and I guess I should pick up the poop in the yard.  It’s getting a little minefieldy out there.

This is why we can’t have nice things.

You guys, I am never going to reach the level of responsibility necessary to become a real grown-up.  Last night I went to bed without putting the leftovers away–after saying to Jason, “I can’t forget to put these leftovers away.”  This is not the first time that’s happened.  So much food has gotten tossed for no reason other than my own shit-for-brains-edness.  I once had to throw out about two quarts of bison chili.  BISON CHILI, YOU GUYS.  (God, it was a good batch, too.)  On multiple occasions my subconscious has slapped me across the face and woken me up at midnight to go put the g-d leftovers away.

Other things that completely escape me (this list is by no means exhaustive):

  • Doing dishes more than three times a week once a day.  How the hell do we go through so many dishes?
  • Putting laundry away.  Fucking socks, find your own mates!
  • Watering potted plants.  The garden can go three days without water, why can’t you?
  • Picking up the dog shit in the yard.  She’s a crop-duster, so there are just little bitty turd nuggets scattered all over our 1.4 acres, and it’s like the worst kind of Easter-egg hunt you can imagine.
  • Paying my bills before the very last possible minute, leaving me to worry if it went through in time.  I’d bitch about there not being a grace period, but you know I’d just abuse that too.
  • Getting my hair trimmed.  I should just shave it and get a couple wigs.
  • Deleting pictures off the camera card.  My poor geriatric laptop has a stroke every time I ask it to read the card, which could be improved by simply deleting the stupid pictures.  And yet I cannot.

It’s a good thing I don’t have kids.  I can see it now–“Oh come on, I just changed your diaper yesterday.”

So now I have to go to the store again today, which I hadn’t planned on doing, and I have to cook dinner when we get home from CrossFit, which is like the most annoying thing on the planet, and GODDAMMIT WHY CAN’T I GET MY SHIT TOGETHER ENOUGH TO JUST POUR THE FUCKING STEW INTO A TUPPERWARE AND PLACE IT IN THE REFRIGERATOR.  Oh, by the way–

  • Cleaning out the refrigerator.  It is beyond. me.  So much crap to throw away… so little inclination to do it.

Basically I’m, like, the worst housekeeper on the planet.  I hate my slovenly ways and yet I am incapable of changing them.

CrossFit last night was a doozy.

  • 25 toes-to-bar
  • 50 pushups
  • 25 wall balls
  • 50 situps
  • 25 KB swings
  • 2 minutes rest
  • 3 rounds for time.

I seriously need to work on my pushups on my own.  We don’t do them too terribly often with our programming, and I’m not getting much better at them.  I got a lot stronger a lot faster when I was doing P90X (which should just be called “You’ll Do A Lot Of Fucking Pushups”).  Those pushups beat the crap out of me–by the end of it I was only able to bust out one or two at a time, on my knees no less.  I finished in 33:39, which was right in the middle of the pack as far as other people’s finish times, so I felt okay about that.  But when I was in the middle of climbing that pile of pushups, I didn’t feel okay about much of anything.

My back held out, by the way.  It didn’t really hurt, except for a little grumble on the KB downswing, so as long as we’re not asked to do any Supermans tonight I should be good to go.  I didn’t feel nearly as gimpy last night as I did the night before.

But, as usual, I’ll be happy for a rest day tomorrow.  Maybe I can get some housework done!

Haha.  I made a funny.  Housework.