New Moves

In college, I had a friend who would say to himself in the mirror, "I'm alert, I'm alive and I feel GREAT!" His dad taught him to say this every morning to start his day off on the right foot.

Well, this morning I managed to get out an "I'm alive!" and that was about it. There were a few grunts and groans, too. I knew that going to Crossfit three nights in a row was a risky move seeing as how I have led a pretty sedentary life up until this point, but my fear of that dreaded "second day soreness" was motivation enough for me to power through. I won't lie, I really did not want to go last night. My legs hurt, my ankles hurt, my back hurt... everything hurt! I began stretching the minute I got home from work and continued to do so for the next two hours leading up to my class. Lord I am such a wuss.

I really should have noted my surroundings when I walked into the gym and taken them as a sign that I needed to turn around and RUN to my car! A friend of mine was finishing up her workout and the only way I can describe the remaining group would be to say that they looked like dehydrated starving lions hunting in sub-saharan Africa. Does that adequately describe it? Think of the animals on Animal Planet who are starving and sharing the watering hole with their prey. That's how they were moving. Go look up exhausted in the dictionary and ye shall find them there. (I should note here that this was one of the more the advanced classes that was suffering so. I mean, the writing was all over the wall in bright letters and I just bounced right over to the stretching area and pretended to see nothing!)

I will say that Major Pain gave my quads and hams a break and focused on torturing my upper body this time. At one point I was absolutely positive that I was going to either tear something or fall over backward from the weight on the bar hovering above my head. I think that my arms were responsible for lifting said weight above my head but I am pretty sure I blacked out during the process so I can't be 100% certain. All I know is that I did NOT want to bring the weight back down!

Oh, remember wonder boy who was working out with us on Tuesday? The one who had endless energy and was doing circles around us? Well, the whole time I was suffering through my arm presses, I had him right beside me doing something that resembled a squirrel crawling backwards up a tree (but on the wall because of course there aren't trees inside). Over and over again. I got tired just looking at him! How's THAT for motivation! And he smiled the whole time. Gag.

Also, I did not wear a bar t-shirt. Actually I did but it didn't have "BAR" plastered across the front and it was really faded so I didn't think it counted.

Let me interrupt by saying that I, being the planner that I am, checked in with MP to make sure that we wouldn't be doing any intensive leg exercises because my legs were so sore yesterday that I was afraid to even attempt to stretch. I was assured that he had some "new moves" for Rachel and I. With renewed enthusiasm I decided to go for the Turkey. Three nights in a row!

I assumed that the aforementioned "new moves" were the presses I'd done so diligently since I assumed that my legs would be left to rest because they had been to hell and back during Tuesday and Wednesday's workouts. It was also the promise of "new moves" that kept me from rapidly exiting the premises when I saw my cohorts suffering through the last ten minutes of their workout.

WRONG AGAIN! You know what they say about assuming... don't!

Shortly (like, one minute) after our arm routine was done, I was rudely introduced to the Burpee. Very rudely introduced. If I had to describe it I would call it a squat thrust on steroids. With a jump at the top. Oh, and we had to jump over a bar between reps. And I was supposed to do 25. My jump resembled a sissy skip more than a two footed jump, but I was so past caring about jump form that I did whatever I could to get my feet across the top of that bar. I was morbidly afraid of falling forward and busting out my two front teeth. I made it through about 14 when my wedding ring went flying out of my "media pocket" in my top so I walked over to my belongings and placed it gingerly on top of my phone. (The top was a gift from the "Easter Bunny" this year. I guess she knew I needed to get my butt off of the sofa and do something! And by Easter Bunny I mean Granny, of course). On my return to my designated area, I rolled my ankle. Yes, I did. I made it through the run, lunges and squats and stretches, tons of "up and downs" on a box and half of my burpees and I roll my ankle WALKING!!! And walking slowly at that!

WHAT IS MY MALFUNCTION!

Aside from the sore ankle that is still nagging me a little this morning, I feel so much better than I did yesterday. Like, a millionbajillion times better. I am deathly afraid that by skipping tonight I am going to wake up with rigor mortis in the morning.

I will also note that I've radically changed my diet over the past few days and I can FEEL IT!!! Not in a good way either. This must be how crackheads feel when they try to kick their habit because I am obviously terribly addicted to sugar and bread. I couldn't put a sentence together yesterday after lunch and I would have mugged someone for a Coke. I might hurt somebody if I don't a) eat pasta or b) get over the withdrawals.

Here's a link to Rachel and I putting our own spin on Burpees.

Just kidding. But seriously? Who has that much fun doing these things sober? I would have to be in the bottom of a bottle to have that much fun!

I'm off to lust after the mini strawberry pastries in the break room.

Laters,
Sunny