That's just the warm-up...?

Week 32: Day One
I had a really great day and I was full of energy when I got home yesterday so, naturally, I was excited to get to the gym and expend said energy.  Which I did, about ten times over.

I'm not sure if I missed something before I got there (a reason for being punished) but our "warm-up" for the night was 25 wall runs.  Let me repeat that.  The warm up was 25 wall runs.  Now for my non-parkour readers, I want you to picture yourself running towards an 8ft. wall, running up the wall, and climbing your way on top of it.  Or look at this picture...

Now do that twenty five times.  Oh and throw in a few vaults and varying speeds before getting up the wall every couple of rounds.

As I rested briefly in between turns, I cursed myself for not running more regularly.  I tried to focus on catching my breath and prepare for each turn with determination.  I will finish this warm up.  I will get on top of that box.  I will not give up.  And even though about halfway through I thought I'd keel over  due to my lack of cardio, I finished with everyone else and only missed one thanks to poor foot placement.  Not only did I finish, but I didn't use my knees or elbows once.  I muscled that shit up.

I was so caught up and focused on completing the warm up that I didn't even realize what an accomplishment it was when I finished.  Not until P came up to me, gave me a high-five and was like You just did 25 wall runs, and you only missed one.  Four months ago, you couldn't even get on top of that thing.  I managed a thank you in between panting and drinking water but it felt really great to have someone notice and point out the progress I've made... more than that, to congratulate me on pushing so hard and getting somewhere.

Feeling pretty damn good, I prepared myself for the rest of class.  Next exercise: one minute of continuous movement on the obstacle course.  And if it wasn't your turn... Cindys (it's a cross-fit thing) (5 pull ups, 10 push ups, 15 squats).  Some people were beasting out and doing a Cindy per minute as each person went on the course.  I decided to try to stay conscious and did a Cindy every other minute... or so.  Okay, three in total.  But I still felt pretty good about that after adding it up.

I can't... feel... my legs!

Stairs.  So many stairs in my house.  Every step I take, I cringe while my muscles scream at me.  I try to walk without bending my knees in an attempt to minimize the pain.  I think about my love/hate relationship with soreness.  Last night, T told us he was going to make us cry after class with conditioning.  We all laughed nervously.

Before the crying conditioning, we had a great workout.  I worked through some mental challenges and really focused on my technique with quiet and precise landings, long and powerful strides rather than short and quick steps, and foot placement.  We were working on jumping, specifically jumping up and onto something from a tilted vault box, a rail, or other obstacle.  I remembered a previous training session when we were using the tilted vault box in a similar way, and I had so much trouble getting myself to just use one step on the box instead of fitting in two which was slowing me down.  So, last night I told myself I'd try it again and see what happened.  Trust, I thought.  Trust that my body can do it and commit.  I started running and my body took over for me, using one powerful step on the box and continuing up to a soft landing on my final target.  Bam.

After more running and jumping, handstands, and more running and jumping, the fun came to end and the conditioning began.  The challenge? Push a weighted sled down the room and back, broad jump down the room, broad jump backwards back to where you started.  Oh and if it wasn't your turn, you were holding a wall sit.  I think there were seven of us, and we were allowed 10-second rests in between each person's turn.

I went second-to-last so I had already been holding a wall sit for a bit by the time it was my turn.  My legs were actually shaking towards the end of the sitting.  I stepped up to the sled and got ready.  Everyone "sat" in their wall sit and I began pushing.  I made it to the other end and turned around to push back, but this time it was at a different angle and I had trouble at the beginning.  I finally started getting some speed and I was almost at the end when the sled caught and wouldn't go over one of the mats.  M@&#^F*@%#^! I pushed and pushed but it wouldn't budge.  Weakness was tapping me on the shoulder and laughing at me as I was cursing the sled and trying not to collapse.  Finally, I managed to lift it off the crack in the mats and went back to pushing it the last few squares to the end.

I stood up, panting, and wanted to cry as I started to jump.  I kept screaming/whimpering I can't feel my legs! while everyone in their wall-sit was cheering me on/begging me to continue so they could rest.  Trying to ignore the pain and force my muscles to function, I made it there and back, jumping forwards then backwards to the finish line.  One more wall-sit as the last person went and we were done.  Somehow I managed not to fall over before fitting in a nice, long stretch and heading home.

As painful as that was, I'm always thankful for T's intense sessions because it pushes me more than I usually push myself.  And even though I want to die at the time, later on when I'm resting I always think to myself I could've pushed a little harder.  I'm going to do better next time.

No Excuses

Apologies for neglecting my blog for the last month or so.  Due to a number of mishaps, I've been out of training for longer than I'm used to.  But I'm getting back to it, thank goodness.  It started the week before last when K and I got home and we were doing the whole it'sbeenalongweek=sweatpants+bed+mindlessactivity+food game when M started bouncing around the house yelling I'm going to go jump around! Are you coming?? I'm leaving in ten minutes! Get up! We're going to jump! Get up!

You can't really argue with that... No really, we tried.  No excuses would be accepted.

Giving into her energy, we threw on some sweats and headed over to a nearby building with fun things to jump on and interesting levels to experiment with.  It was a great session for me because even though I was tired and not at my usual 110%, I wasn't training to master a new skill or push myself too hard.  I was just there to get out of the house and move.  I felt perfectly free that day, something I hadn't felt in a while.  There was one beautiful moment when I had just finished a challenge, I stood up and looked around and thought what should I play on next? as if everything around us had been built as our playground.

Since then, I've slowly started getting back in shape.  A concept that is very different depending on who you talk to, I've noticed.  To me, that means getting back to my normal level, and then continuing to push myself further.  When I talk to N or V who are training for upcoming races (because they're awesome like that) or my other fitness-obsessed friends, they understand what being "in shape" means to me.  They understand that right now I'm less than my best self and I want to be better.

When I mention  it to someone who's not as fitness-oriented, they roll their eyes and mutter something along the lines of stop it, you look fine.  I could write a novel about how much this statement bothers me but I'll settle for a few lines.  There is a monumental difference between looking good and actually being fit.  Just because my butt looks good in these jeans, or I don't have a gut does not somehow magically result in me being in shape.  Some people just have good jeans... good genes.  Hmm...  The point is, I don't want to look "fine" or skinny or any of that nonsense.  I want to look fit.  I want to be strong and healthy.  I want to feel good.

I'm not usually one to make excuses, but after life kicking me in the face for a few weeks I gave in to weakness.  I guess everyone has their moments.  But M was so intent on getting us out the door that day.  And thank goodness for that.  I needed that little push.  That reminder that even if I wasn't as strong as usual, it was okay to just go outside and work on the little stuff as I gradually get my strength and my endurance back.  No excuses, play like a champion.  Or something like that..

More to come soon..