I should have learned by now that saying, “I will never” practically guarantees that I will end up doing that exact thing. So let me use this phenomenon to my advantage: “I will never be a published author,” “I will never have a million dollars,” and “I will never have a house with a yard and vegetable garden and free-roaming chickens.” I think that should cover it.
Many, many moons ago I said I would never do CrossFit, that cult-like exercise thing where people run around lifting and throwing tires and doing burpees until they proudly throw up. So guess what I signed up for this month?
I don’t like doing what everyone else does and everyone who does CrossFit becomes an instant missionary and says things like, “I PRed my squat weight yesterday. It was awesome. You have to do it.” That kind of talk immediately guarantees that I won’t. First of all, because terms like “squat weight” scare me and second because I don’t like to do what other people tell me I “have to” do. I even bristle when someone on Facebook says: “Need ideas for a trip to Crete. Go!” Um, no. Don’t tell me to go. Try going to Google, you lazy . . . (so I might have a small problem here).
For the past 2 years I’ve been working out pretty regularly doing things like Pilates, yoga, and TRX, except during summer vacation because the keyword here is vacation. But my various teachers have all moved away so I’ve been out of the exercise habit since late spring and not missing it at all. But when I was on our recent trip to Germany and Poland, I saw a few things that reminded me that I need to get back to doing something active. First of all, the Germans are crazy in shape. I saw 70 year olds with calves that looked like they’d been carved out of marble. All that trekking and hiking and walking up mountains has turned them into unstoppable machines. Meanwhile I saw some Americans half their age who were huffing and puffing trying to walk up a hill. I’d rather be like a German at 70 than an American at 40 so I vowed to get back to doing something active when I got home. Use it or lose it, I guess.
The final straw was when I was sitting poolside, sipping my iced coffee (with ice cream) and Carter pointed to my leg and exclaimed, “Mom! You have a hole in your thigh!” Yes, sweetie. Thanks. That’s called cellulite. “But it’s a hole!” Yes, I know. That’s what happens when you grow up, have babies and don’t exercise. Let’s keep talking about this subject really loudly so everyone at the pool can hear us. So that cemented the fact that I’m not as fit or as put together as I’d like to imagine that I am and it reminded me that I’m only going to get more dimpled and horrifying to my children if I don’t do something about it.
So, enter CrossFit. In a moment of insanity, I signed up for the month. Three weeks in and I still haven’t gotten the hard body that I am owed after doing all this hard work. Every day I look around for my gold medal because I swear I’m working as hard as an olympic athlete with all the running, jumping, pushups, pull-ups and other ridiculousness. What does a workout look like? Here’s an example:
5rnd
Cindy x3 x2
C/J x 50,000
run 400 meters
I can’t even tell you what that means because I made it up, but that’s what all the workouts look like. A jibber-jabber of numbers and letters written on a whiteboard so I have to whisper to the person next to me, “What are we doing? Wait, how many times?!? And I’m supposed to be holding weights while I do that?! Am I being punked?“
I don’t like to sweat, I don’t like to push myself, and as we established previously, I don’t like when people tell me what to do, so CrossFit should be a non-starter. But so far I haven’t died, which is a plus and also shocking, considering that I did 50 squats this morning while holding one of those long bars that Olympic lifters use. And did more squats and overhead lifts with a bar with weights on the ends. And did some running. And some burpees. This morning. Before 9am. Who am I?!
I do like that it’s so hard that I feel like I’ve earned the right to complain about it for the rest of the day. After my workout I don’t have the energy to do more than lie on the couch and knit and binge watch Parks and Recreation, which seems a bit counterproductive, but supposedly it will get easier. I’m not sure how that’s possible when the coach tells me to add more weight every time I turn around. He seems to think I’m able to do more than I think I’m able to do. So far, he’s been right, but whatever.
Another plus is I’ve met some new people, both from the military community and Bahrainis. I can barely talk to them as I’m huffing and puffing between exercises, but it’s nice to have a change of scenery. It has also brought me closer to God, as each morning I wake up and whisper, “Oh Lord, what new torture will I have to face today?” I may not get to my ultimate goal of hole-free thighs, but hopefully when I’m hiking that mountain I’ll be moving so fast, my thighs will just be a blur.