When Spencer asked how I liked Olympic class and if I
noticed a difference in strength, I was somewhat speechless. Not that I didn’t
have plenty to say on the matter (I’m blessed or somewhat cursed with the gift
of gab), but more like I was still trying to catch my breath from the hell he
just put me through – a Tabatha circuit of the devil Airdyne machine mixed with
kettle bell swings. After collapsing on the floor from this challenge, a discussion
with the man that put me through this agony would only result with a few four-letter
words being dropped.
Prior to joining CrossFit, my most recent stent with lifting
in general was during my time at SMU. I was “talking” to one of the football
players and in an attempt to woo him; I challenged him to bench presses. When
one of the bars collapsed on top of me, causing not only my collar bone to
bruise, but also my ego – I decided to give up the sport.
Luckily, knowing the WODs the night before helped me skip CrossFit
workouts that were heavy on lifting. Pun intended. However after seeing my
friends’ successes, which included new PRS; I wrestled with the idea of joining
the Oly class.
When it came time to sign up, I always managed an excuse to
not join the program. After knee surgery, the excuses came by a bit easier.
Squats, snatches, cleans and jerks were all out of the question. What the hell
was Spencer thinking, I thought.
Well, I won’t underestimate him again. A month later, I’m a
little stronger and more importantly, I’m able to walk up and down stairs with
little to no pain. I also learned a few things along the way.
Don’t run or do a
better job hiding it.
Prior to joining Spencer’s class, I promised not to run.
Well, I can’t say I have fully kept that vow. Habits are hard to break. However, I’m usually so sore from class that
running loss some of its appeal. One night the task of taking off my shoes required
so much effort that I slept with them on. No joke.
You want revenge on
someone; ask them to do a GHD raise.
I would rather do the Hotter than Hell on an Airdyne than one
GHD raise. After completing my first raise, I told Spencer that I must have
been doing something terribly wrong. Pain shot up the back of my hamstrings and
butt, followed by cramps beginning from my calves to my toes.
“You don’t understand this really hurts.” I said looking at
everyone in the class for reinsurance.
“I know. It’s a
weakness. How many do you have left?”
“Spencer, seriously, this hurts.”
“Just wait till we add weights,” he replied.
Complaining.
I probably complain more than anyone at the box. My phrase
“I’m over it” doesn’t get me out of doing any of the exercises. Also, why would
I want to get out of it? I’m a grown woman; no one is forcing me to go to
CrossFit or to pick up that weight. I’m here because I said I want to be, so I
might as well shut up and swing that kettle bell 100 more damn times. Also, put
a smile on my face, not everyone is lucky enough to work out.
Drinking.
When I make a plan,
especially involving fitness, I stick with it. So during my running days, even after
“one too many” the night before, I never missed a run. My friends would wonder
how I could function on these runs with no sleep. I just could. Running,
especially long distance comes naturally for me.
The same cannot be said about weightlifting. I learned a tough
lesson one Saturday morning. Let’s just say one cannot drink the night before
and lift. If one does, last night’s Velvet Taco will make an appearance.
Lovely.
Arnold Press, Push
Press, and Press are all different.
Koy once said that my IQ must drop 500 points every time I
walk in the gym. I have to agree with
this statement.
I can recite speeches from Revolutionary War heroes, list
pointless shark knowledge, and quote every line from “When Harry Met Sally,”
but for the life of me can’t remember the difference between these three moves!
Also, for a woman that claims to have an exceptional memory,
I never remember what weight I last used. Not once.
Solution for this problem? The need for a notebook.
It’s hard to feel
sorry for yourself and lift at the same time.
While most people know me as goofy and carefree, I’m actually
a worrier. I fret about things out of my control. When my head starts spinning
and I morph into a hopefully cuter version of Woody Allen from “Annie Hall,” my
friends intervene. (If you haven’t seen it, go rent it. It’s another classic.)
My frustrated friends developed the phrase,“6 inches,” –
meaning I’m only allowed to worry about things currently 6 inches from me.
Although this idiom helped, sometimes my anxieties got the best of me and the
only cure was a run. Unfortunately, knee surgery prevented this release.
Enter CrossFit, a feeling of compete bliss, to only think of
one thing –the task at hand. The task usually entails lifting a heavy bar over my
head. The only thought crossing my mind is don’t drop the bar! Who wants an
obituary saying death by barbell?
So for one hour, I’m free. I’m not worried about money, my
knee, or my family’s health – it’s just the gym, that damn bar and me.
Intimidation.
CrossFit is intimidating. I would rather sing Aerosmith’s Cryin in front of 200 people than do a
snatch in front of the whole gym. Why? I’m a hell of a good singer and I have
already done that.
But, in all seriousness it wasn’t until this past month when
I stopped being intimidated. The Olympic lifters, who once made me nervous with
their notebooks and constant throwing weight down, are actually pretty awesome
and helpful. If I don’t know something, I ask. They’re not annoyed, unless I do
it mid-snatch. Learned my lesson on that one pretty quick. No one is talkative
with 200 pounds over their head. No one.
Trust.
When Spencer gives me the workout, he’ll say, “Trust me.”
When Kasey orders me to put more weight on the bar, she‘ll say, “Trust me. You
can lift more.” When Tiffany spots me while
I attempt to bench press, she’ll say, “Trust me. I won’t let the bar drop on
you.”
You have to trust not only yourself, but your coach and your
peers. They want to see you excel. They want you to push yourself because in theory
we are only as good as our weakest link. They also don’t want to see you crush
to death. It wouldn’t be great for member retention.
Believe.
You must trust yourself, or better yet, believe in yourself.
So much of what we do is mental. I once read an article that said 90% of the
game is mental with only 10% skill.
Mel, one of the first CrossFit coaches to
take me under her wing, fully believes to be great at the gym one must need a
healthy mind.
“Ash, get out of your head, believe in yourself, stop being
such an insecure girl,” she yelled. It
was tough love, but hey it worked. I constantly repeat this phrase in my head
during Spencer’s class.
Take pride in your
accomplishments.
This is the biggest one. It’s hard coming back from an
injury. It’s hard to see where you started, how far you came, and then go back
again. I’ve had to start over in tennis, running and now CrossFit.
It’s tough and some days are more discouraging than others. I
dropped back to the despicable green band, knee push- ups and gained a stomach.
Well a month later, I’m back to RX push-ups, the green band
hangs on the wall where it belongs, and I’m still working on the diet. J
