My third workout. I pulled up to a dark box at 5:20am. Ummm...a quick check of the online schedule didn't indicate changes, so I decided to wait it out. A chugging Harley slid by in front of me and stopped in front of the glass wall. This rider was male, that was all I could see. Good enough.

Water bottle and phone in hand, I jumped out and said, "Hi Mick!" No answer. "Hi Mick!" The head turned. "Oh, I'm not Mick. You mean Ryan." I rolled with it. "Hi Ryan!" Conversations in the dark are awkward unless they're the whispered, bodies-pressed-close-together kind. We went inside and Ryan turned on the lights.

Ryan kept writing on the board, line after line. Plank hold. Weighted pull ups. 12 minute AMRAP: Fence run with med ball? Wall ball shots? He wrote and wrote.

"Fence run! Warm it up!" Without pause we flowed out the door. The run felt easier, shorter. I turned and trotted back up the hill.

"Get in a circle! Grab a med ball!" Gathered in a circle, we started throwing the med balls to our right, catching and squatting and throwing in one smooth motion. It was rhythmic and soothing, despite all the balls being different weights and thus unexpected changes in impact force, until Ryan called a stop.

"Everyone with a ball, 10 squats! Without, touch your toes!" I hugged my ball close to my chest and did 10 squats as low as I could go. The last to finish, I stood up and tossed to my left. The next two stops I stretched my hamstrings. Score! We scattered for space.

"Can you do pullups?" Ryan appeared at my side.

"I'm going to do ring rows," I said confidently. I set the timer on my phone. On my knees, then on my elbows, then on my toes. Go!

First 30 seconds. Easy. 3 ring rows. Easy. Second 30 seconds. Maybe easy? 3 ring rows. Easy. Third 30 seconds. Wait, when did this get longer? 3 ring rows. Ugh. Fourth 30 seconds. I can't...knees...hands...wait...flailing... 3 ring rows. Thank god that's over...

I glanced at the whiteboard. Fence run with med ball. I'm enthusiastic and I'm willing, but I'm also well trained as a therapist and I'm not stupid. The run itself is enough of a challenge for me right now, so I headed toward the fence with empty hands, figuring the extra weight I carry is one hell of a med ball for anyone to be toting. I ran to the fence, and walked most of the way back. Ryan was standing in the doorway watching and shouted, "Good job, Erin!" I hitched up my speed and ran the last 20 meters in. Panting, I tried to assess my next step. I grabbed a med ball and approximated a ball shot.

"Get closer," Ryan appeared again by my side. "Closer. Use your chest, not your arms." I finished and flipped around to find a kettlebell for situps. 10 down, I climbed to my feet. Another run. Walk. Struggle? 5 more ball shots. "Get closer," again from Ryan. 10 more situps. ANOTHER run? How is this not over yet? 5 wall shots. 10 situps. I hate kettlebells I hate kettlebells... MORE RUNNING?? HOW IS THIS NOT OVER?? 5 more ball shots. Back on the floor for the damned kettlebell. Go go go GOGOGO..."TIME!" yelled Ryan.

My hands clutched the kettlebell on the floor above my head and I let go. Arms flung out and knees flopped to the sides, I breathed and felt my heartbeat throb in my fingertips. My lungs heaved as I panted. I'm not entirely sure my legs were still attached. I concentrated on imagining the blood pumping steadily through my veins, feeling my chest pulse.

A stranger's face appeared above me. With a smile he looked down at me and said, "That's my favorite position," and moved away once I answered, "Mine too." I sat up when my name was called and yelled, "4 plus 12!" I was determined to get credit for my 4 fence runs.

"Alright, 20 burpees!" The box erupted in a chorus of protests. Ryan addressed me again. "Can you do a burpee?"

"I don't know what one is," I confessed. He demonstrated, and I hesitated, twirling my wrist thoughtfully. His eyes noticed the long scar on the inside of my wrist, and I lifted my arm to show the long scar on the back of my elbow.

"Oh, I know who you are. I heard about you," Ryan blurted.

"Oh god, I don't want to know," I could only chuckle briefly. We figured out a modification for burpees just for me, and I finished my 20.

"Extra credit, 50 box jumps!" Ryan yelled, then looked at me again. "Can you jump?"

"Um...gravity really likes me," I faltered. "I'm really stuck to the ground. I get hurt when I fall. I tend to break things." I'm afraid of falling, and avoid jumping as much as possible.

He stacked two 45 pound bumper plates in front of me. "Can you jump up on that?" I tried, catching my toes on the edge and failing. "Okay, squat and swing your arms. Good, you've almost got it. Good, there, got it! Now stand up straight when you land on it, then hop or step off. Got it!" Ryan moved away again and I continued working. After 20 jumps, I was spent.

It was an hour of facing weakness and failure and fear, and...

I want more.