Somewhere along the way I turned into a bit of a yo-yoer where my weight is concerned. It’s always been super gradual either way but it’s gone up and down about 40-50lbs nonetheless. After getting married three years ago it’s gradually gone back up until I recently decided that it was time to get my ass in gear and head back on that downward trajectory. In my moment of determination I bought a ten class package for my local CrossFit gym and despite some reservations and a lot of anxiety, I went to my first class last week. The following is an all too true account of my thorough ass whooping/humiliation.
I purchased ten classes because I knew the first would be rough and I wouldn’t necessarily have a great opinion of it simply due to the fact that I am wildly out of shape. So despite the ability to try a single class for free, I dove right in. Upon completing my transaction I got an email from the gym’s owner asking me if I was free to start the next day. Things were getting real too fast and I immediately started to panic. I politely emailed back letting him know that I could not make it, but would be in the following day, which luckily it turned out, was my day off.
I arrived just before 9am last Tuesday to the cavernous, loading dock looking gym. I was greeted by Bryan, who had been emailing me, and quickly got set up in the system. Warm ups started and I immediately felt the urge to run away. Cartwheels were one of the warm up exercises, and as an awkward and sometimes very uncoordinated person, it felt like I was having a waking nightmare in which I show up to school with no pants on. Additionally, I was already getting a little tired from the warm up. This was not a good sign. This however, was followed by the beginning of our WOD. It was fairly simple and straight forward, 5 sets of deadlifts at 5 reps each. I managed to do 70lbs on my last set and I was feeling a little proud of myself – cocky even. You’re the daughter of a bodybuilder I told myself, it’s in your blood. This was a mistake.
The last bit of the day was 20 minutes of body weight exercises. 20 pull-ups, 40 push-ups, 80 sit-ups, 160 squats, 80 sit-ups, 40 push-ups, 20 pull-ups. The scaled down version was still 10/20/40/160/40/20/10 and I can’t do a single pull-up. I was, how do you say…oh yes, fucked. Luckily Bryan could sense the imminent death in me and kept me more or less on a minute on minute off cycle and I made it through. The workout was mercifully over and I had survived. But at what cost? I made it home just in time to be hit with incredible nausea. I took an Advil, some Pepto Bismal, and a 45 minute nap. The next morning and indeed the two days that followed were marked by soreness so unspeakably painful I wondered perhaps if I had pulled every muscle in my body and was now one big walking injury.
So what’s the verdict? Will I complete my 10 classes and emerge victorious and triumphant? Will I drink the CrossFit Kool-Aid? Or, will I throw in the sweat soaked towel? Well, the jury is still out on whether I will complete all 10 of those classes, but I do plan to return – tomorrow in fact. I’m definitely not sold on the greatness of CrossFit just yet. Everyone talks about the incredible community but aside from one girl, who played rugby of course, and was very nice to me, everyone else in the class stared at me with disdain and quiet judgment as I huffed and puffed through the exercises. Beyond that, it’s going to be a rough hurdle to overcome for me, to get to a level where I’m on a more even footing with everyone around me and don’t feel profoundly embarrassed that I can’t keep up. But, despite the immense challenge of it all I didn’t hate the experience and I did feel accomplished if pained afterwards. I’m definitely going to give it a fair shake – so stay tuned for more misadventures no doubt. “