Tag Archives: hand-release fuckups

A Big Old Blogging Smorgasbord

My brain is all over the place today.  Maybe it’s because the weather has all of a sudden changed from “glorious” to “intestinally humid” and the windows are closed up tight for the first time in like two weeks.  Maybe it’s because Tegan still hasn’t really developed a potty routine (translation: her morning poop doesn’t happen til she’s damn well good and ready, which might be 7:45 or it might be 10) and starting Monday, she’s going to be alone for almost 9 hours every day, and I’m afraid it’s going to completely derail everything.  Most likely it’s because Jason’s in that agonizing post-job-interview limbo, and the interview happened to go well, so we’re both kind of on edge waiting for a response.  Either way, I feel scattered.

I’m also officially tired of our living room, which is the room where I’ve spent the vast majority of my time this summer.  It’s not that it’s such a bad room, really.  It’s large and light and really close to the kitchen, where the food is.  It’s just so drab.  When we were house-shopping, our criteria were pretty simple.

  • Rural location.
  • Smallish house, largeish property.
  • Not a complete dump.

That’s about it, really.  Sure, we had a list of Wants: hardwood floors, one story, fireplace, gas stove, efficient windows… and wouldn’t you believe it, we got all those things.  Yeah, we had to paint, and there are a lot of personalizing projects we still want to do, but it was absolutely move-in ready.  Our house does have one carpeted room… and it’s the living room.

The living room is a newer addition to the house, which is a very plain, typical, early-1960s ranch.  Seriously, this room is big.  I haven’t measured, but an eyeballing puts it at about 15’x25′.  It’s big… and brown.  The walls are fake-wood paneling, the trim is “natural” (which also means fake wood), the carpet is a speckled tan semi-shag, and the granite fireplace surround is mottled beige/brown/orange.  The curtains are dark brown.  And our couch just happens to be beige and brown.

I’m not exactly a monochrome sort of person.  Truthfully, I’m not even really a “neutral” sort of person.  The couch I had before Jason and I combined households was robin’s-egg-blue.  My side of the closet is a riot of color.  I consider grass green to be a neutral.  I’m also not really a matchy sort of person.  My decorating sensibility leans toward the “flea market fabulous” side of things.  This is not to be confused with “shabby chic.”  Shabby Chic tends to incorporate things like peeling paint, old suitcases, and ratty linens.  Chipped, faded kitchen chairs?  Yes, lead paint is a very nice seasoning on your scrambled eggs.  Old steamer chest as a coffee table?  No better place to store extra blankets than with a colony of silverfish!  Ratty old linens?  Absolutely I would like to sleep in a mouse toilet.  I like mismatched things, as long as there’s still a cohesive feeling.  Non-matching but coordinating, I guess.  Old wooden chairs make me happy, but REPAINT THE STUPID THINGS.  Have a funky coffee table… just not a dry-rotted leather steamer chest.  Those things make my skin crawl.  AND DON’T SLEEP IN SOMEONE ELSE’S HUNDRED-YEAR-OLD BEDDING.  If it was my own family’s heirloom, that’s one thing.  At least I know nobody died under that quilt.

So anyway… maybe next summer we can afford to re-do the living room.

  • New carpet.  Something not shag, speckly, or brown.  There’s a really nice warm gray color in the mottling of the fireplace surround; that would be nice.
  • DRYWALL.  I Do Not Like the fake wood paneling.  I would be okay with just painting it, except it was not especially well-done, and it’s all wavy and saggy.  I suspect (hope) there is already unfinished drywall behind the paneling; if that’s the case, it won’t be too much of a nightmare to finish it.  If not… Jason’s dad is good with crap like that, and enjoys it, so he can help us.  And it would be painted a COLOR.  NOT TAN.
  • Built-ins next to the fireplace.  It’s really a very pretty fireplace, but it’s just kind of stuck in the middle of one wall.  Built-ins will give it a little more character, and will give us a little more much-needed storage.
  • Take down the circa-1984 ceiling fan.  Set it on fire.
  • New furniture?  Maybe?  Aside from being uncomfortable, our current sofa is now sporting a large, lovely hole in one cushion (THANKS, TEGAN).

Combined with the outdoor projects I’d like to do for next year (deck railing, minor landscaping, major garden extension)… I’m never going to want to leave the house.  I already never want to leave the house… this could be trouble.

Moving on.  Last night’s WOD!  As I mentioned, yesterday was one coach’s birthday, and I suspected the other coach would program a 42-themed WOD for that.  I wasn’t wrong.

Warm-up with 3×3 heavy squat cleans.  We were to start with a weight we could do a lot, because we’d come back to that for the WOD.  My weights were 65# (not too hard), 75# (a little hard), and 85# (fuck you, squat cleans).

And then the metcon:

  • 10 squat cleans
  • 42 double-unders
  • 10 push press
  • 42 hand-release pushups
  • 10 hang cleans
  • 42 DU
  • 10 front squats
  • 42 HRPU

I was really, really okay with this.  Going along at a good clip, breaking my lifts into sets of 5, doing 84 singles instead of DU… and then I hit the first set of pushups and came to a screeching halt.

I am weak on pushups.  Just terrible.  Even just normal, non-hand-release pushups, I can only string together a set of 6 or 7.  On my knees.  Hand-release?  Let’s make that 3 or 4.  It’s embarrassing and infuriating.  There were people finished with the whole damn thing before I finished my first set of pushups.  Coach was walking by during my hang clean mid-set break, and I double-checked with her to make sure Other Coach wasn’t actually turning 20.  She just laughed, so I guess that was a no.  And then I got all sweaty in my eyes, and I couldn’t read the board, so I accidentally started doing squat cleans again instead of front squats, so I wasted a bunch of time and energy on that.

Aaaand then I had the stupid pushups again.  By that point, I was so sweaty I had to move to the carpet to keep from sliding backwards on every rep.  I was definitely the last one still working.  Everyone else was wiping up sweat puddles, breaking down bars, hanging up ropes, and doing awesome fun things like sitting still, drinking water, and breathing.  And I still had half my reps to go.  Coach came over and sat on the tire next to me, talking me through it.  She wasn’t yelling or pushing, which is good, because I was getting mad.  My last ten or so reps were not hand-release, and I gave no shits.  My very last rep was extremely close to being a downward dog.  It was just ugly.  But again–no shits.  All I cared about was getting off the floor.

It took me 17 minutes and 32 seconds to do what most people did in less than ten minutes.  It was not fun.  And yet I’m looking forward to going back tonight.  Such is the beauty of CrossFit… no matter how much it sucks, I came out the other side, and I can be proud of that.  And maybe the next time will be better.  Because it probably won’t contain pushups.

If it does contain pushups… I can’t promise I won’t just walk home.

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