This morning seemed like a long workout, a long time in the box. In reality I spent the exact same amount of time I've been there every other early morning. I slept fine last night. I am worn out, though, by working out four days in a row. Now, Saturday was aborted. But I still did part of the warmup, and the tshirt that says "My warmup is your workout--CROSSFIT" is entirely true. I'm just bodily tired.

We worked on squat/squat clean/squat snatch first. As I was telling a coworker earlier, the attention they pay to proper form and instruction and correction throughout the workout is the marvelous thing about my box ad why I feel so lucky to have found kivnon. I lost count of the amount of squats/cleans I did, but trust me it was quite a few!

When we started the AMRAP--just ten minutes, easy peasy!--I very quickly discovered that my thighs were shot. 5 rows--work, but doable. 7 box dips--definitely work, but doable. Fence run...aaahhh, I want to cry. The first (my second of the morning) happened. I spent the entire time telling myself, "You're doing a box run via the fence. Easy! Just a box run!" And I did make it. When I started the second it felt like my feet were stuck to the ground. I tried telling myself "Just a box run!" but just as quickly snapped at myself to shut up. So I tried coaching myself through lifting my knees to give me more propulsion and speed. It worked, for the first three quarters of the distance. Third run I got about half. Final run I did most of it--I would like to think I was getting into my groove, but the reality probably was that I was afraid of not getting back to the box before time was called. Whatever, it all works.

I finished four rounds + 6 (5 row, 1 box dip) in the 10 minutes. Never think a short AMRAP will be easy. Never, ever. It's a trap.

Yesterday was Free Saturday, as usual. And I went to the box, as usual. Earlier, in the middle of the night, I was woken up with elbow pain (same thing as the wrist pain). I breathed through it and groaned through it and my husband helped me, and I fell back asleep. I thought it was over. Ha! I should be so lucky.

So there I am in the box. My elbow had been twingy all morning and I asked for a modification for the kettlebell swings. With that in place, I started warmup. Midway through lunges (not even involving the arms!) my elbow let out a huge throb and I gasped and stopped to regroup. Panting, I held my elbow and tried to will the pain away. Yeah, that's not ever going to work. I turned to try knee-ups, holding my arm close to my chest. More pain. Bugger it all.

I dropped out of line and went to talk to Stef. Briefly I told him what was going on, and he said, "you do what your body needs you to do. If you need to not do this, then don't do it." With that assurance I gathered my things with my right hand and left. I was upset with myself for giving up on a workout, and for missing a saturday. But I don't push injury pain.

This morning I woke up and I was fine. I decided to go to Open Gym. I owed myself a WOD. Two people and one coach were there. Perfect.

I set myself up on a slightly higher stack of plates for box jumps. I grabbed a 12kg (26#) kettlebell. I drew my chalk line. I set my phone timer. I did a warmup. And I was off.

I remember thinking that 5-10-15 was an interesting rep pattern. I remember thinking that I might be able to try the low box next time. I remember thinking that lying down for situps would be a good rest. Oh, I'm so naive.

20 minutes is a long WOD. There are those moments between exercises when it's easy to get distracted by trying to breathe, and you don't realize time is passing. At one point, around round 4, I remember a conscious rush of awareness in my brain, a conscious switch over to that mental space of pushing, pushing, and getting the next step done. Round in circles I went, until "Still Alive" by Glados started to play and my time was done.

I lay on the floor and panted. "You go girl!" came from the woman working on her kip beside me. I held up my horns and kept panting. A couple minutes passed, and I peeled myself up. My chalk line had 7 swipes in it.

Triumphantly, I grabbed a red pen and wrote my rounds next to the DNP (Did Not Participate) by my name from yesterday. I walked over to talk to the coach while I wiped my face. And Stefan walked in. 

"Did you come to workout?" He grinned at me and offered me a fist bump.

Accepting it, I nodded. "Yeah. And I wrote a note on the board."

He walked over to read my red note, and grabbed a black pen to start his own scrawl. Coming back to me, he offered me another fistbump. "That's hardcore, girl. Good for you!"

I left glowing. I have never, in my life, in all my history of workouts, workout styles, and different disciplines, been prouder of myself for finishing a workout.

I'm tired and worn today. As I was telling Tiffany last week, occasionally I'll get really frustrated with myself and my performance and imagine people are judging me. My inner voice starts screaming, "it's HARD to move this body! YOU try doing this weighing as much as me!" That's my reality right now. It's hard to move this body. It has to happen if I want to change, but occasionally I am overwhelmed by weariness.

We had a SWOD of front squat this morning followed by a Tabata WOD of pullups and planks. For the front squat we were doing 5 sets of 6, and the WOD was two "sets" of 4:20 each. Tiffany supports the idea of giving the 400m run a try if I get there early, so I got out of my car and tried it. I made it about halfway, I think. I'm still not sure which fire hydrant is our marker. But I did it. It was dark and I was alone, and I liked it best that way. Self-consciousness is my Achilles heel. This morning I woke up at 2:30 and had been drifting and dozing since, so I was already starting with just 4 hours of sleep. Coming off 9 days of vacation, my mind was not focused and my body was not awake. I did part of the 400m run and came back. Stef showed up a couple of minutes later and I had a few minutes to stretch.

Going into the SWOD, I still wasn't awake. I worked with the bar and added weight for two rounds, but that was all I had. I stripped the bar for the last 3 sets, disappointed in myself but not willing to risk my physical safety with the combination of a tired brain and body and a heavy weight. No PRs were set this morning.

Tabata sounds easy. It's 4:20, how hard could it be? The reality of Tabata, though, is far more harsh. 20 seconds of intense effort followed by 10 seconds of rest, repeated 9 times, is a hard task to accomplish. Pullups are beyond me right now--they're on my list as a One-Year goal--so I did jumping pullups. Eeesh.

Down to the floor for the same 20/10 of planks. The floor tempted me to just curl up and go back to sleep. I could feel endorphins rushing, I knew I was in a good mood, but the physical reality of just being bodily tired was still with me. When time was called I rolled to my back and panted. Tired. Just tired.

Dragging through work this morning, and I have another 4 hours to go. Tired. Just tired. Sleep will come easy tonight.

One of the ideas that Tiffany is really working on with me is self-talk before, during, and after a WOD. I'm trying very hard to tell myself encouraging things when I face another fence run ("Just a fence run! This'll be fun!"). A challenge I still have, though, ingrained from years of ridicule and criticism in PE, is exercising in front of others and knowing that I'm the slowest and heaviest. It takes a lot of work to undo scar tissue, emotional or physical. Realizing after years of poor treatment that I've been okay all along is one thing; overcoming knee jerk reactions and self-protection responses is something else entirely.

Saturday morning is a free class. Everyone is welcome, box member or not, to come get a sense of the gym and of Crossfit workouts. My last four Saturdays were fun. This, my fifth Saturday, looked like it was going to be more of the same. Kettle bell high pulls--yay, I love kettle bells! Air squats--totally got those! Fence run--uuuummmmmm, "just a fence run!"

We gathered in the parking lot because there wasn't enough space actually in the box for all the new people. There were about 20 people there for the 9:00 WOD. Warm up started--fence run. Great, fence run! I was really working my focus and self-talk. High kicks, butt kicks, high knees...all things I can do if I'm standing but not prancing. So modified. I was okay with it. I'm an actual member, I'm good, I'm okay. I'm okay.

Then the WOD started. I was good with the kettle bell high pulls, good with the squats, good with the first half of the run. Then someone, a man a good decade younger than I, lapped me. And my confidence crumbled. I wasn't guarding it and I fell apart. I couldn't make myself start a second round, not with that dreaded, lumbering, heavy, slow fence run. The desire to run and hide consumed me. Stef had mentioned that we could row or run, so I retreated into the hot (but far emptier) box to pull down a rower. I set up my kettle bell and was off again. 6 rounds later, time was called on the 15 minute WOD.

I was far more comfortable on my own. I've liked the camaraderie of working with a few of my box members, but this was just too many. My inner scars are still too entrenched. It'll get better and I'll get more confident, but for right now I need to remember that I am still learning and still recovering. As with a child who has been mistreated, I must be gentle with myself.

I've been lazy about writing this week. I've had a week off vacation time and I've gone to class, I just haven't written about it. A lot has happened, actually.

There's been a heat wave through southern California with temperatures in the low 100s and high humidity. Thankfully my regular class is at 5:30am, before the day really heats up. There were two mornings when it was already in the low 80s as we hadn't cooled off overnight, but I kept my perspective and reminded myself that low 80s in the dark is far preferable to low 100s in direct sunlight.

Monday I already felt off before I even got to the box, with an unsteady stomach and general sense of malaise. I went in, anyway, figuring I'd steady down once I got some endorphins in me. We were doing a SWOD of squat snatch. This move, a clean-squat-overhead-press combo, is one I've never done. I understand the mechanics of it, I'm mentally there with the physics of it, but my body was not having it. The combination of a deep squat (my squat is still tight) and a close-to-the-body arm maneuver meant my body was determined to find any other way possible to manage what I was asking it to do. I worked the components with a PVC pipe then with a training bar, then grouped them all together with PVC then training bar, then swapped bars to try weight. I did reps over and over and over and wore myself out. I ended up with a 1 rep max of 63 pounds.

There was a 10-minute WOD planned for after the SWOD, and I tried to tap out of it. I told Mick I was gonna skip it. He wheedled me into a row instead of the run. Fine, I'll just row for 10 minutes. At the last second I decided to jump into the WOD, so I spent 10 minutes doing a row-pushup combo. I only got through two full rounds and then part of a row set, and when Mick called for my results I yelled, "2 plus 286!!" I was determined to get credit for my partial row. The look on his face was an indication of how off guard my answer had caught him. I'm sure he's never written "2 + 286" before!

On tuesday I had the pleasure of starting mental training with a fellow box member who is working on her degree in performance psychology. We talked a lot about mental focus and inner voices and self-talk. I've been working on this with an addiction therapist, too, so for the most part my self-talk is pretty positive. We're focusing on cleaning up my self-talk around WODs, before, during, and after. As my answer with Dr. Matt is a simple, "I'm okay," my focus with Tiffani is on the immediate response "This will be fun!" to any self-doubt that comes up.

From that appointment I went to a Pulmonology appointment. My new doctor has a very nice approachable father-figure bedside manner. He determined that, while I don't have the neck size (greater than 17 inches...mine is 14 1/4) or the tendency to "hold my breath" during sleep, I probably do have sleep apnea due to my restless sleeping, my weight, and my increased snoring in the last 9 months as my weight has also increased. So he ordered a sleep study, and we're waiting on insurance for approval. Being weighed by his nurse, although she said NOTHING about it, sent me into an emotional tailspin. I left that appointment in an utter panic, absolutely ashamed of myself, and determined to find a diet or a method I hadn't tried that could possibly be the magic bullet.

Thankfully, from that appointment I went to my final appointment of the day with my addiction/eating disorder counselor. Yeaaaaahhhh. This is the stuff of a separate entry.

I left that appointment with a renewed sense of myself and a huge weight lifted, emotionally, for the last 26 years of my life. Talking it out with a friend cemented the conviction that I was, actually, just fine, and had been just fine all along. Class the next morning was great, as was Friday morning. After class Friday I met again with my fellow box member and we set some goals. Again, stuff of another entry.

Which means I best get writing!

My toe is purple and black, and I'm tremendously proud of it. I take pictures of it in different lights, to try to capture the variety of coloration. I proudly refer to it as "my first Crossfit injury." There had been no issue with weightbearing, walking, or movement, so it's just a beautiful bruise. Nothing is broken.

This morning Ryan was writing our workout on the board and I observed that I didn't know my max for push press. "Here," he said, "work with Michelle and Cassie."

Nervously I eyed them and protested that I could work alone just fine. Awkward that I would have to fully strip the bar every time it was my set, I tried to insist that I was fine alone. Cassie and Michelle, though, weren't hearing it. They insisted that I work with them, and Cassie asked, "How much do you want?"

"Well, um, I can press the bar..." I trailed off.

Cassie nodded. "Right. So you wanna try 5 pounds? Just add 5?" I couldn't let myself wimp out at an extra 5 pounds, so I agreed. The set of 5 reps was easy. To be sure I had to focus, but the weight wasn't beyond me.

I helped build for their rounds. Cassie is tiny, with a wisp of a torso and wiry, fluid arms. She's also fiercely strong and doggedly determined. She pressed 83# for a set, and handed off to Michelle.

Michelle, taller than Cassie, is just as determined. She's working her way up in weight, and also pressed 83# for reps. Then they stripped the bar for me.

"Let's try 5s. On both sides," I said timidly, and Cassie grinned.

"Right on!" she locked her side while I locked mine. My set was a bit slower, but I still finished.

Cassie and Michelle both tested 103#. Cassie, working for it, made all 5 reps. Michelle made 3 and dropped, then failed on 4. They stripped the bar for me again.

"Let's try 10s," I said, a bit braver now. With a bar of 53#, I completed 5 reps slowly and with great focus. With relief I re-racked the bar.

Cassie finished another set at 103#, and Michelle dropped back to 83# to finish her set. My last set came up and I went back to my 53#.

One rep. Two. Three. Focusing really hard on pushing the weight with my thighs, I dropped and sprang it up off my chest. Four. Resting on my chest, the weight seemed prohibitive. I couldn't make eye contact with anyone, but I heard Cassie say, "Use your legs! Fast and sharp!" I dropped my knees and threw the bar overhead, my elbows straining to straighten. Right arm locked out, my left arm as straight as it will ever go, I looked up, made sure it counted, and dropped the bar.

This time the plates protected my feet. My arms and hands shook with the exertion but I was flying. We whipped into a workout of set of 10 lunges and 10 burpees for time, and I finished in 10:22. Today the WOD wasn't my focus. My focus was on the bar overhead, on the triumphant feeling of having pushed for something I was nervous about and achieved. I know Cassie lifted more. I know Michelle lifted more. There were 16 people in the workout this morning, and every single one of them pushed more than I did. And I don't care. My strength will come. I am not in any way disappointed or ashamed of myself. I showed up, I worked, and I did it. My strength will come to me, and it will be glorious.

I entered the box well aware that Saturday's workout had been, for me, sub par. I'm okay with working around my left arm, but I still thought that I needed to step it up again. Our SWOD was  deadlifts, gradually increasing to find our one rep max. I've trained deadlift before, but I've used 80, maybe 85 pound bars. I eagerly threw myself at the exercise. Part of what drew me to Crossfit was the fact that I would have the chance to train heavy, to train the big lifts, in a place where it was acceptable to start off light.

I knew from last week that I could lift at least 73#. Game enough, I tried a 25# plate on both sides. Easy. Added 10s on each. Not much of a challenge. Two more 10s. Still not much. I kicked the 10s off and put on two more 25s. Challenge, yes. But was that my top weight? I added 10s. Ppppffffff. I felt my left oblique ripple as it stabilized my spine. Whoa, I think that's it. I tested one more lift and made it, barely. I found my max, and set my first PR at a 153# deadlift!

After the SWOD came my first introduction to one of the girls. This time we were doing a "Heavy Fran". Weights were given for Heavy and Rx, but I ignored those, knowing I can't do them yet. I can do thrusters without added weight on the bar, though. I can't do pullups either, but I can do ring rows. I organized myself, got a bar, set up my rings, and got ready to work. Fran is thrusters and pullups for time with descending sets of 21, 15, and 9 repetitions each.

21 thrusters in a row is a lot harder than it sounds, even without extra weight on the bar. I did a set of 10 and took a quick break, then did 10 more. I took a quick break, banged out one more...and dropped the bar. WHOOPS.

My bar didn't have bumper plates on it, which means that it doesn't bounce, and it has no clearance from the floor. That 33# bar hitting the top of my toe made me shout out a thoroughly unladylike word. I hopped and cursed, the thought, "Don't mess up another workout!" blaring through my brain. Gingerly I put my foot down and leaned onto my toes. Sore, but no issues weight bearing. Hmm. I flexed my toe inside my shoe. No sharp pain with movement. Seemed to bend okay at both joints. Resolutely I looked up at my rings. Just keep going. I kept going. The ring rows were done on my heels, toes off the floor.

15 thrusters still needed one break halfway through. 15 ring rows. 9 thrusters. 9 ring rows. "TIME!" I called out.

10:50 for a modified Fran. With a slightly dented toe and a lot of determination. I'll take it.

It all started innocently enough. Propitiously, in fact. As always I was early to the box. It was open, but my class didn't start for nearly 45 minutes so I pulled out a book and got comfortable in my car. Stephan walked toward my passenger window and I rolled it down.

"Hey, you wanna come in? I'm doing a Fundamentals class for someone else but since you need that too...?" he trailed off. I agreed that it would be great and scooted into the box.

We worked our way through the first day of Fundamentals--different squats, press, using the rower. Mostly we were using the PVC pipe, and I was doing fine. Stephan glanced at me briefly, then let me proceed. I've lifted before and know proper form, so this was really a matter of checking off boxes. It was still a 30 minute class of sets of squats and presses, though. The intensity of time wasn't there, but I was certainly warmed up for the workout anyway.

People arrived and we started our official warmup. It was hotter, but I was okay. Our workout was to be a fence run, two upper body exercises, and situps. I got myself set up with the 33# bar and stepped in line.

Run 1: it is bloody hot out here! I darted into the box and went to my bar. Cleaning it up to my chest, I nearly dropped it when a shock of pain ran through my left forearm. Dismayed, I put the bar down.

This pain is familiar to me. One of my four metal plates is on my radius--the forearm bone from your elbow to your thumb--that long ago mended the bone after it twisted and snapped in the accident. I get pain occasionally in my elbow and my forearm, rarely in my upper arm, and never, that I can recall, in my chin. This pain is a deep, heavy ache, a prohibition against movement or use until it subsides, and for me a reminder that these injuries are still with me. It's a cold burning pain, and there's nothing to do for it. It is the plate itself: the pain is a patch of skin about two inches long and half an inch wide, right underneath the scar that makes it look as if I tried to slit my own wrist. It's not a pulled muscle and it's not an injured joint. It's on the length of the bone, not at a joint at all.

I grabbed my forearm to apply pressure, the only thing that helps it. Mick was at my side like a shot. "You okay?" I am gratified by the fact that I am obviously being well monitored.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. It's just this plate. It'll go away in a bit." I get this pain randomly. Sometimes it's overuse, true, but sometimes it's because the weather and thus the air pressure is changing. Sometimes there's no reason at all. I'm used to it, and resigned to it. I kept massaging.

I knew time was running on our 15 minute AMRAP, though, so I looked at Mick. "I'm going to have to switch to the PVC pipe," I said as he nodded. I'm not in any way trying to slack off at the workouts, but I'm also not stupid and I'm not going to force my precious left arm to work through when I've got this specific kind of pain. I'll work through tired muscles, I'll work through aching joints, I'll work through mental fatigue. But I won't work through this specific pain.

The next move was pushups, which were way out of the question. I looked at Mick for a modification, and he suggested wall pushups. I tried them and they were easy enough, but my forearm was really not happy. Stephan came to my elbow. "Try one handed pushups," he joked and walked away. Fine. One handed it is!

I flopped for my situps. No worries on the forearm at all. Out the door for the next run. It's bloody hot out here! 

PVC pipe, one handed pushups, situps. Walk to the fence. PVC pipe, one handed pushups, roll up out of the situp without using my left arm. Round and round we go, where we stop nobody knows...

Time was called when I was in the middle of the situps for my fourth round. Almost got 4 rounds, so close! I cradled my hand close to my belly and caught my breath.

"Is it okay?" Stephan asked again.

I nodded. "Yeah, I just...I guard it, when it hurts. I carry it close to me." My right thumb massaged my left forearm. "Give it about an hour, it should be fine. This just happens sometimes." I shrugged. He nodded.

I am still injured. I cannot ever forget that. But that doesn't mean I'll every give up.

The WODs are posted on the kivnon website, but I try not to look ahead. I don't want a chance to psyche myself out, or even worse find an excuse not to go. Yesterday I wanted to look something up, though, and saw what this morning's WOD was going to be. I spent some time worrying about it, then decided I would just scale it and let it go.

Last night when I got home from work I had no husband and no clean scrubs or gym clothes, but I did have chicken in the crockpot. So hey, at least one step was assured. I set the rice cooker and started a load of laundry, and while those were cooking I made breakfast for this morning. Breakfast cooling before I packed it away, I realized I had nothing in the fridge to pack for lunch.

Just at that moment my husband texted to say he had a late night, so I should go ahead and eat and clean up and he'd find something on his way home. Not to be too self serving but...score! I fixed my dinner and packed away the leftovers as my lunch for today at the same time. Transferred the wash to the dryer, and all was humming along nicely. I'm working really hard to set good habits in place while I'm riding the honeymoon wave of motivation. Breakfast packed, lunch packed, laundry drying--everything was set.

When the alarm went off at 4:50 this morning I rolled right out of bed and into my gym clothes and got out the door before 5:00. I feel happy when I get to the box, like this is a place great things happen. Ryan greeted me and others were arriving. I had a quick conference with Ryan about how I had thought to scale the WOD, and he agreed.

We were doing:

400 meter run
10 box jumps
10 burpees
10 HSPUs (hand stand push ups)

...for time, with 1,000 meter row for time as extra credit. Every single thing was beyond me (except the rowing). So MY workout was:

240 meter fence run
10 plate jumps (onto 2 stacked 45# plates)
10 modified burpees off the edge of a bench
10 overhead presses--2 rounds with 10# added, 2 rounds with just the 33# bar

This was a "lung burner", lots of gasping for breath. Alright, I'm in. My first round, I'm good. Second round, holy hell did this bar get heavier? Third round, I can't jump can't jumpcan'tjump just step up... Fourth round, you can jump! Press it up! Get to it!

Time: 21:36. Proudly, I ran the first half of all 4 fence runs. On the third I had a voice in my head telling me loosen up, lift your knees, arms swing, easy does it, faster turnover! Something tiny clicked. It is still not easy by any stretch. But I felt something loosen, something relaxed in my shoulders and my hips. I sped up, infinitesimally. And it was easier. I felt more fluid.  Learning to Breathe Fire talks about building neural connections for graceful movement, and I was gratified. In tiny, tiny ways, things might be changing.

I did a couple walks to the fence to bring my heart rate down. When I came in from the last one Ryan looked at me and said, "You wanna do the row?" I snorted and said, "NO." He wheedled, "C'mon, just 500? You can do 500."

I begrudgingly walked over to a free rower and strapped my feet in. We had warmed up with a 500 meter row (among other things) and I knew it would take me about 3 minutes. Fine. Of course, that was before the WOD and this was after. My hips protested. My lungs protested. I got to 400 and Ryan appeared again. "Wanna do 1,000?" I barked and said, "No!! You're a bad man, go away!" He laughed at me and said, "If you've got enough breath to yell at me you can do it." I decided to do it. Loooooooooord that second 500 was a lot further than the first 500. But I finished. Rich, by my shoulder, called, "5:55!" while I folded forward and panted.

Why do I love this? Some things are inexplicable.

Yes, I've still got Hotshots 19 on my mind. I have not done it yet, but I will.

This morning I walked into a WOD that I had no idea how to interpret. The board said:

100 front squats for time
-30 sec for front squats
-30 sec for pull ups
-30 sec for double unders

Ryan and Pat explained that we were doing 30 second rounds of the 3 different exercises, but only focusing on the front squat. "When you hit 100 squats, you're done," said Ryan, while Pat contributed, "if you wanna save some energy, don't do the other stuff." I was intimidated, partially by the fact that I've never actually done a front squat. I've done back squats, but my limited elbow means front squats are naturally wonky on me to start with. In a front squat your bar rests on your collar/shoulders and your hands are at your shoulders to steady it. Yeaaaaahhh, left elbow's not ever going to do that--I haven't touched my left shoulder with my left hand in 17+ years. But I'm game to try, right?

Ryan moved me outside so we had more room and set me up with a training bar. I have no problem using the training bar, especially for a move I've never done before--I have no ego attached to this process. Given the flexion limitations I was dealing with, we eventually ended up with my elbows really wide (instead of forward and up) and my bar resting on my right shoulder and half-supported by my left hand. Whatever, it works. I'm doing ring rows for pull ups, and those were inside the door. Follow that with jump rope and I was set.

Time started. Ryan called "ROTATE!" every 30 seconds. I quickly bailed on the jump rope--I just had no power to jump. I worked steadily, though, squats and ring rows and rest. Squatsrowsrest. Squatsrowsrest. Squatsrowsrest.

18:37, I hit my 100 and dropped the bar. You know what this means, right? I need more weight on the bar!

Having done a couple different kinds of workout (AMRAP, reps for time) I think I prefer AMRAP. The intensity and focus are different. It was intense to do 100 front squats, don't get me wrong, and I'll certainly be feeling them later. But the electric intensity, that tunnel focus that drowns out the world, isn't present when you're doing reps for time. This morning I didn't feel like I was buzzing in my own world, like I was fully present in my entire body. I was instead aware that I was wearing out one part, not the whole. Don't misunderstand, it was still a great workout and the energy in the box is fantastic. And I was still bright pink and hot and completely wet with sweat at the end. But I kinda missed the otherworldliness of the AMRAP.

Did I just say I missed the AMRAP? Those words will come back to haunt me!

After all my bravado about feeling safe and accepted yesterday, kivnon posted an invitation for today's workout.

"We are[sic] only be at the box at 8am on Monday the first.

Normal business will resume on Tuesday!!

Come out and do hotshots 19 with us!!!"

Curious, I googled 'hotshots 19'. Oh dear. 

Crossfit is known for 'the girls', and for so-called 'Hero' workouts. The girls are so named because Crossfit founder Greg Glassman once commented, "I thought that anything that left you flat on your back, looking up at the sky asking ‘what just happened to me?’ deserved a female's name." Fran, Amanda, Cindy--these are known in Crossfit circles. Comparing 'Fran times' is part of the atmosphere.

Crossfit originally was discovered and heavily utilized (and still is) by military members looking to hone their skills to be more prepared for the vagaries of war. It was quickly picked up by firefighters, EMTs, members of the police force, and other first responders. These were the people who had the potential to find themselves in situations where they had to run 100 meters, crouch down and lift a 200-pound fallen crew member, and drag said crew member 100 meters to safety while under fire. These members needed the stress of training and the variability of training to ensure that, if the need arose, they could perform whatever circumstance threw at them. The Hero workouts are so named for servicemen who have fallen in the line of duty. The first Hero workout, 'Murph', was put together almost a decade ago. Since then others have been added, including Hotshots 19.

Hotshots 19 honors the 19 fallen crewmembers who were trapped and perished fighting the fire in Yarnell, AZ on June 30, 2013. It is 6 rounds for time of the following sets: 30 squats, 19 (one for every fallen member) 135-pound power cleans, 7 strict pullups, and a 400 meter run.

And I can't do it.

For my level of conditioning right now, I know this Hero workout is beyond me. Especially with a braced ankle. When I saw the workout posted and realized what it involved, all my fear and all my personal shame slapped me in the face. I know it can be scaled, of course. I can break the 30 squats up into sets of 10 instead of 30 straight through. We can change the 135-pound power clean into a 20-pound training bar clean. The strict pullups can be ring rows. We can modify the 400 meter run to a 240 meter fence run. We're still talking about an hour-long 90-95% effort, and I'm just not that conditioned yet. In between respecting my training as a therapist and my own consuming shame--I'm okay with being the slowest one, but good lord, not in front of every single person who goes to the box (and there's only one workout today, so it'll be busy), I couldn't face it.

 So I have decided. I don't get to wimp out today. I'll go to the gym today, and I'll do 6 rounds for time of:

*30 air squats
*19 power cleans with a 20-pound bar
*7 "ring rows" (I can set up a Free Motion to approximate this)

...and I'll report my time later.

I am not a Hero, but dammit, I'm trying.