So here’s a real thing that happened in my often rickety-ratchety life:
I actually thought Chelsea and I could survive a full semester of 6 AM Crossfit.
Now, I know what you’re thinking — probably because I was thinking it too, at the time — 6 AM is not so early! That’s not bad! I get up at 6 all the time!
But you’re an idiot. And I was an idiot. Here’s why: getting up at 5 AM attempting a vicious CF wod (“workout of the day”) at 6 AM is the equivalent of beating one’s soul with a mallet.
We were losing sleep and losing energy instead of gaining it. We showed up to class looking like pixie-cut versions of the girl from The Ring. We crouched in corners and squinted, like tiny hairless feral beasts who had never seen light bulbs, weight racks, or people before. We would get home around 7:10 AM, confusing the crap out of the cats, who hadn’t really woken up the first time we left. They probably quickly hit up IMDB to see if they’d been Inceptioned. Good thing I taught Tag to read.
All this is to say: 6 AM CF was not really working out. I’m all about pushing one’s self to MAKE something work, but in this case the exhaustion was real. And the solution needed to be, too.
However, the way I’d arranged my schedule, there were no other options, time wise. It’s important to us that we eat dinner together at a decent-ish hour. It’s important to me to have enough time in the evening to 1) work on my own coursework, 2) lesson prep, 3) manage the house. As such, evening classes were out, too.
And so we began our long sabbatical in the fitness wilderness, absconding from our position as Southern Tier Crossfit regulars and going off the fitness grid for three months.
Last night, we made our semi-triumphant return.
We headed to downtown Binghamton, where Southern Tier Crossfit has recently moved, and braved the negative-a-million temperatures. We were delighted to find our good friend Yasha would be coaching, and got to meet some new folks who have joined in our absence.
The WOD, which I meant to write down for you guys but forgot, was not the most brutal I’ve ever endured, which was good since if there had been burpees or box jumps I might have mutinied and hurled myself into the icy waters of the river behind the box. I am not at all afraid of going all Jack-in-Titanic on myself to get away from burpees. Humans were not meant to do burpees. Souls were not meant to endure burpees. There were front squats, thrusters, lunges, a deadlift-hang clean-clean-jerk progression (I think I got that sequence right) and my arch nemesis, the pull-up.
I told Yasha that pull-ups are not at all on the list of life skills I ever hope to gain. He laughed. I was totally serious. Like, Justin-Bieber-Talking-About-His-Music serious. Serious with a hint of mania, and a sprig of mint.
I’m not sure who will be attending when, as spring begins and semesters change for some of the folks who are in grad school, myself included, but I really hope we get to train with Tracy and Frank. We miss them a lot — they’re our CF buddies! I’m usually supremely self-conscious at the gym, especially at CF where so many of the folks who are training are in glorious physical shape. When I train with Tracy and Frank, they make me laugh and we all feel like a team. It puts me at ease. I hope to see them soon.
Chelsea and I both went very light on the weights yesterday, since we’ve got some muscle-memory to relearn/spruce up. However, last night and today, we are feeling the burn. Steps are cruel today. Sitting down and standing up – also cruel. Arm movement: cruel. I know the first few weeks of CF training always hurt the most, though, and then it becomes normalized by the body. I also know I will not die before that day arrives.
In truth, pain aside, I couldn’t be happier to have returned to CF, and to have found times that work so Chels and I can go together. We love our friends at the Box, and are excited to be a part of STC!
Now, where’s my goddamn ibuprofen…