I’ve been doing this CrossFit thing for about 6 weeks. Everyone I talk to who does CF says, “Oh yeah, you’ll get addicted!” Umm, I’m not feeling addicted. It’s not like it’s chocolate or reality TV or a single-camera comedy (Arrested Development, The Office, or Community). I’m addicted to things that create joy and laughter and are comfortable — CrossFit is none of those things.
I keep going because as much as I don’t love sweating and working hard, I don’t like feeling weak and out of shape and that is certainly in my future if I don’t keep moving. I’m hoping as an added bonus it will keep my body from looking jiggly and Middle-Aged Momish. Too bad that after 6 weeks all it has done is made my butt an inch bigger. I’m not even kidding. I measured and everything is the same, but my butt is bigger. Totally not fair. From the millions of squats I’ve done, it should have gotten rid of some of the excess. At this rate, I’ll be a jiggly J-Lo by December.
To be fair, it hasn’t all been for nothing. The loose skin and layer of fat on my belly has gotten firmer and it dangles less when I bend over to see how far it hangs down. (Anyone who has had kids knows exactly what I’m talking about!) Sometimes I think I see positive changes, but other days it all feels as squishy as the day I started.
All that to give some background as to how I ended up participating in a CrossFit competition last night. When our gym announced they would be holding a “Throwdown” a few weeks back, a “friend” (I’m using that term loosely because real friends don’t make their friends do physical challenges) said, “Oh come on Robin, it will be fun. We’ll do it together.” I promised her that my definition of fun had nothing to do with running and lifting heavy things, but she wore me down and I added my name to the list of competitors.
Have I mentioned it’s been 105 to 115 lately? And that doesn’t include the humidity. Local facebook friends have been entertaining each other these past two weeks with screenshots that show the temperature and what it actually feels like with the heat index taking into account the humidity. Things like “windchill of 124 degrees” are plastered all over my wall. The other night at 10pm it “felt like” 119 outside. I’m fabulously comfortable sitting on my air conditioned couch, but the moment I step outside, my sunglasses fog up, my phone screen mists over and my clothes start to cling.
Lucky for me, our competition was held outside. Sweating before we’ve even begun. Red shorts is my “friend.” She’s in amazing shape and is strong. What was I thinking?!
The first of four events. This was a short sprint with hurdles. I could manage that as long as I could figure out the right way to serpentine around the cones. I kept second guessing myself before the start so Carter gave up explaining and went out on the course and walked around them the right way to show me where to run.
I made it!
Second event was the sled push. Back across the field pushing a 15kg weight. This one was easy too. I was in the first heat of women (the slowest ones), but I didn’t come in last in any of the events. My small personal victory.
Checking the schedule to see which pain comes next. Look at the 3 of us half naked next to the Arab women competitors. They were all very sweet, but I wonder what they really think of us? For normal dress we cover our shoulders and wear knee length skirts or pants, but none of us have workout gear that covers. It was so hot, I really didn’t care anyway.
Event 3 was the hanging clean. I think that’s what it was called. I don’t know the names of the lifts, I just do what they tell me in class. We had 5 minutes to do 3 repetitions at as heavy a weight as we could handle. The weight had to go from hanging at a standing position to up to your shoulders.
My technique is terrible and it feels a lot like trying to rub your tummy and pat your head at the same time (which I can barely do). So I start to think, “dip in the knees . . . straighten up, jump!” and forget all about pulling up on my elbows and rotating my wrists fast enough. Or I remember the wrists and forget how to jump. Anyway, I was able to lift 32.5 kg and one other chickie lifted either the same or 1/2 a kg less than I did. Most everyone else was between 40 and 50.
I remembered my elbows this time!
Did I mention how hot it was? Even the spectators were dripping.
The last event was the buttkicker: A 16 minute “as many rounds as possible” of the following three events: 1 lap around the field, 25 wallballs, and 5 burpee to ring pull-ups. I love and hate the timed “as many rounds as possible” workouts because on the bright side, it can’t last any longer than 16 minutes. On the dark side, it means there is an expectation that you will give an extra level of intensity for that short amount of time. An added bonus for the competition is a personal judge who insures that you complete each move using proper (hard) form or they don’t count that repetition. No half squats on the wallballs!
We all ran the lap and then started our 25 wallballs. You are supposed to hold the 13lb ball, go into a full squat and then come up and throw the ball at a 9ft tall target.
I’m supposed to hit the bottom metal circle.
One!
Ways this can go wrong: You heave the ball up, but it goes straight up and back down and doesn’t touch the target. No rep. You heave the ball up and it hits the shelf beneath the target. No rep. You don’t squat deep enough. No rep.
My judge is the girl in the red T-shirt. She would have been excellent staff in a labor camp: “Robin, you must keep going. Give me 10 more right now. Pick up the ball. I’m giving you 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, go!”
After completing 25 wallballs, it was time to rest. Seriously, after wallballs anything else is a rest. Even running felt restful. Finish wallballs, immediately move to the side and do a burpee then do a ring pull up (easy from this position). The girls who can do pull-ups did a burpee and a pull-up instead for more points. If I ever learn to do a pull-up you will hear about it on this blog because it will be a miraculous occasion.
After 5 of these, head out for 1 lap.
Then the terrible wall balls all over again.
I did 3 full rounds (75 wallballs!) and this is my 4th run. Right now I’m hoping that if I run slowly enough that time will run out and I won’t have to do anymore wallballs. The kids and Josh were cheering me on the entire time.
Nope, the clock was still ticking. I did a lot of this during the 16 minutes. The ball would get heavy and slip out of my sweaty hands and I was thankful for the excuse to stop and wipe my hands and catch my breath before picking it up again. I also spent a lot of time thinking, “How long is 16 minutes?! Did time stand still?!?” Meanwhile, judgy girl (literally and figuratively) kept saying, “Robin, you must keep going. 10 more right now.” I think I died and didn’t go to heaven.
Finally they called time and I staggered off the field.
I look like I’m about to fall over because I am.
Whoop, whoop. I finished and I wasn’t last.
I was happy to be a spectator during the next several heats. The women were all in great shape and it’s tough to whine about the heat when many of them were fully covered in layers and wearing a hijab throughout. Rock on.
halas! (finished)
School starts early tomorrow morning, but we’re on Middle Eastern time! We finally left at 9pm to get the kids to bed, but they were still working through the men’s heats. It was great to have such an enthusiastic cheering section come and support me. I suppose I would do it again. Maybe. It was really hard. I’m definitely not addicted.