You can find I’m Scared of CrossFit – Part 1 here.
The last time I had signed my name on a form without reading any of it, I was in labor. I was exhausted, in pain and wanted Rambo to just STFU. This time, I was in a Crossfit box.
My first CrossFit workout was the most I had exercised in years….or ever. And it actually didn’t start off so bad.
I was one of three new joiners about to begin Elements training, where for six classes we would learn the basic form and techniques fundamental to CrossFit workouts. It was my first introduction to weight training. The coach taught me how to deadlift and power clean.
She made me do these moves over and over again until my form was correct. It was the kind of personalized attention I wasn’t used to getting at other gyms, even when I had paid for a trainer. She was invested in helping me learn, with plenty of patience and encouragement.
We also did squats, ring rows and lots and lots of lunges back and forth across the box. I was determined to kill this workout. I was determined to look as hot as everyone else in this place. Just when the 15lb bar I was lunging with started feeling like 500lbs and my thighs were starting to give in, I heard her say:
“OK now you are ready to start the work out”
I thought the warm up was the workout.
I walk over to her standing by the white board where she had written out the following:
15,12,9: Air squats, Ring Rows, Sit Ups
This was another way of saying “Run once around the entire building. Then do 15 Air Squats, 15 Ring Rows and 15 Sit Ups, followed immediately by 12 Air squats, 12 Ring Rows, 12 Sit Ups then 9 Air Squats, 9 Ring Rows, 9 Sit Ups and another lap around the building.
And we would be timed.
I didn’t have time to throw a tantrum because the other two guys in the class had already taken off running. So I ran after them. And you know what?
It was horrible. Because I don’t run. Not inside. Not outside. Not after a bus I’m about to miss.
Also, there was an Indian restaurant two doors down from the CrossFit box and as I’m running past it gasping for air, I’m sucking in the delicious Indian food aroma and all I want to do is run in there and shove some Naan in my face. But I resist and I want to cry and I hate life right now.
Back inside, the air squats and the ring rows weren’t so bad. It was the sit ups that killed me. They were real sit ups and having to lie down and sit all the way back up and touch the ground between my feet made me dizzy. Somewhere in the haziness of it all, I could hear Rambo shouting words of encouragement. You know every fight scene in a movie where the guy gets punched in the face and everything he sees is blurry and in slow-mo? That’s where I was.
My last lap around the building I was feeling all kinds of sorry for myself. Why was I so unfit? Why did I marry a man who likes to wake up at 6 am on weekends and go for a run? I bet that Naan is really soft and warm. I turned the corner and Rambo was there cheering me on.
My time was 12 minutes and 13 seconds. I was not dead. I high fived a few people. I took a sip of water which was a bad idea because it immediately made me nauseous. The coach wrote my name and time up on the white board. Amazingly my time wasn’t that bad compared to everyone else’s.
I had to sit down for a moment and not talk. I was pretty sure if I opened my mouth just a little bit, I would throw up. And people had just seen me run – I didn’t need any more embarrassment in my life right now.
Rambo on the other hand was talking a lot. He was talking about monthly fees, and budgets and how proud he was of me. I was exhausted, in pain and although I love him for being there right at the end when I wanted to die, I really wished he would STFU.
So I signed whatever I had to, to get out of there. During the car ride home my dizziness subsided enough to read the receipt in my hand.
I had just signed up for three months of CrossFit.