Gravity Doesn't Give a Fuck About Your Problems

The workout "Isabel" is 30 snatches for time at 95 pounds for women/135 pounds for men.  In case you don't know me, I am a woman, so I did 95#.

I have been fixating on Isabel (in a completely non-sexual way) for about a month - pretty much ever since I was confident that I could physically complete the workout.  I have been feeling spicy lately, so I challenged my training partner and good friend Jessi to compete against me.  The idea was popular because who doesn't want to watch two chicks throw down on a workout that seems to be about a vagina.

Conveniently, I cannot think of another workout that we are better matched in.  Jessi's 1 rep max is only 5 pounds over mine, and both of our max lifts are barely over the weight for this workout: 100# for me, 105# for Jess.

Soooo... 30 attempts at 90% - 95% of my 1 rep max, at 100% intensity, against my best friend and training partner. NO BIG DEAL.  But honestly, its not a big deal.

I enjoy exercise because I don't waste brain space trying to draw parallels between lifting weights and living life.  Exercise is nothing like life.  A barbell is constant and simple.  Gravity doesn't give a fuck about your problems.  Oh, you overcame a barbell?  Tell me about how a stack of weights betrayed you.  Oh you endured a bunch of wallballs?  Tell me about how that compares to making deep personal sacrifices for another human.  Because if you can find a workout that makes it any easier to deal with life, sign me the fuck up.  On a positive note, I have been destroying workouts recently because I am like a hyper focused ball of aggression with nothing to lose.

lols

The average time for this workout is about 5:30.  As mentioned before, I am an average crossfitter, so we were hoping for six minutes and to not poop our pants.  We set up our bars facing each other with the clock between us, and right before we started our coach said, "if you stop, you will lose."  I just smiled.  Four and half minutes later, Jess and I called time within seconds of each other and collapsed to the floor, both of us happily clocking the fastest benchmark either of us has completed, ever.

Instead of my typical fist pump, I stumbled over to Jess laughing and gave her a high five.  I could not ask for a more genuine friend.  She brings out the absolute best in me, and I would do anything for her.

I know you are reading this, so thank you Jess.

How Much Work It Takes To Be Average

I just need to get this off my chest: do you have any idea how much work it takes to be average? 

I have been thinking about this topic for a few weeks, and it started to come together while I was having my mind blown watching the CrossFit Games last weekend.  It ispretty awesome to watch people do the same thing I do, just better than everyone else in the world.  If those men and women can't do it, then it can't be done yet. 

 

There will probably be a surge in membership inquiries at CrossFit gyms as viewers decide that those workouts look like more fun than walking on a treadmill while reading a magazine.  CrossFit IS fun (if you are totally fucked in the head and love to beat the living shit out of yourself with training).  I fall into this category, and I will never be able to coach myself because I would set an unofficial world record in "reaching over training for time."  Luckily, if you combine an athlete that enjoys soul destroying exercise with a coach that doesn't put up with bullshit, you can get quite a bit done.

So you want to "do CrossFit?"  You have two choices: training will suck, or you will suck... and here is the disclaimer... you won't be good for a long time, and you may never be great.  Shame on anyone who tells you otherwise.

 

I have been training for 9 months with few missed workouts and very little deviation from my coach's programming.  In the time it takes to make a baby, I have put on more lean mass than the weight of two babies.  I have roughly doubled my general capacity to do work, and I am average.  FUCK YEAH! + fist pump.  I am not merely speculating either - compared to everyone who participated in the 2012 CrossFit Games Open and everybody who submits workout scores in beyondthewhiteboard.com, I am an average crossfitter.

 

CrossFit is becoming SUPER popular.  I am always excited to talk to someone who is thinking of starting or who has just started, because training has had such a profoundly positive impact on my life, but the biggest misconception I have encountered is people who think they can do this shit on their own terms.  "Doing CrossFit" with the same amount of effort and attention that you have given your elliptical workouts doesn't make you tough - it makes you a pussy in a more expensive gym.

Some like to collect gold stars for participation, and combine mild hardship with out of context quotes to feel good about mediocre effort.  Here is the thing about CrossFit... if you give a medicore effort, you will be bad.  If you give 100% effort for months, you can be average.  If you give 100% effort for years, you could be great (maybe).  If you are dedicated and hard as fuck, you will always continue to get better and you won't have that nagging empty feeling that anybody is lying to make you feel better

Not everyone has to want to be great at exercise, but everyone should want to be honest, and nobody is entitled to having sunshine blown up their ass.  

And if one more person tells me "you look great, but I don't really want to bulk up." then I will bitch slap you like I did to Jessi McCain outside of Blanc Burgers.

Waiting For the Morning

I haven't written anything in awhile. Sadly, despite an infinite possible combination of words, I have spent an eternity staring at a blank screen. 

The past six weeks of my life have been pretty fucking miserable.  Irreconcilable differences with an ex-teammate have left me with my gym bag packed - ready to say goodbye to my friends... my second family.  In training I have been simply going through the motions, hopeful for a time when I again have any spare heart for the dramatics of competitive exercise.

 "It's a mental thing for me," is a pretty common thing to hear from someone when they are performing poorly.  THIS IS A STUPID SACK OF SHIT EXCUSE FOR BEING A STUPID WEAK ASS SACK OF SHIT.  You will never hear me throw a fit over a barbell.  Because it is a barbell.  There are bigger stakes.

I love training so much it is silly.  I smile and laugh and tell jokes mid-workout.  I will be strength training until I die.  My children will be stronger than college girls.  It is literally making me ill that I don't love it right now, and I am desperately jealous of everyone who has the energy to be concerned about how much they can hang squat clean. 

I am really looking forward to a time when I am happily training again, whatever that means and wherever that may be.

This isn't the end of the story, merely one of the middle chapters that I will look back on eventually and say, with nostalgic wisdom, that to see the sunrise you have to make it through the night.

I have always been a morning person, anyway.