There’s no crying in Crossfit?

Patrick

I don’t want to come off as some hormonal crazy-lady, but I’ve had the most insane and emotional week at Crossfit in my near-year of being at ACF.

I can’t really explain it.

You know how sometimes things just sort of start to click? And you just sort of start getting it?

I think that’s me right now.

It’s weird because I feel like the catalyst for this was my twisted ankle/foot. I got it into my head that because I had an injury, I could come in for any WOD I wanted, and not worry about the movements, because if I couldn’t do them, I just couldn’t do them, and I’d have to scale for my injury. Normally, I look at a WOD and decide if I’m not scared to do it. If I’m too scared, I just won’t come in. You know. But fear didn’t really come into play with this gimp foot. There was no space for it.

So my foot’s getting better. Like, it’s just marginally uncomfortable at this point. But I’m finding myself going in for almost every WOD anyway (i.e., Dean had to tell me this week to actually NOT come in on Wednesday and Thursday just to give my body a rest). For some reason, the injury may have done some really great things for me mentally. Like, try it, and if you fail, you fail. No big.

On Monday (Columbus Day), we did a Memorial WOD for one of our recently departed ACF athletes. It consisted of 21-15-9 back squats and handstand push-ups. The back squats were supposed to be bodyweight, or, you know, really, really heavy. Normally, I would do something really quick and easy. Not that I don’t like to challenge myself, but I like to be done fast, and I like to know that I can finish it and not go into failure.

I ended up scaling to about 40% bodyweight, or 90# for the back squat. I originally thought 85# would do it, but then added the extra 5# at the last minute for an extra challenge. In my little Daily WOD journal, 90# was my 7RM. I thought I was setting myself up for total failure. But the time cap was high, and I had plenty of time to complete it if I needed.

The first round was hard. But surprisingly, it wasn’t the hardest. I was able to do the first 21 unbroken. But once I added the HSPU (even scaled to a box), things got dirty really fast.

I was drenched in sweat, and I was screaming (like, beyond grunts). There came a point where I couldn’t tell the difference between my sweat and my tears. By the last round of 9, I thought I was going to die. Those 90# felt unbearably heavy. My glutes were on fire. My arms felt contorted in a strange position with the bar low on my back.

Four more.

Knees open.

Three.

Explode with your hips.

Two.

Chest up.

One.

And then somehow it was over. I felt both embarrassed and thrilled. I mean, I made a lot of noise. I was dripping salty drops all over the floor. I was probably crying. I was in a haze.

Is this how childbirth feels?

They say there’s no crying in Crossfit. Maybe it’s a sign of weakness. I know I perceive it as such.

The first time I cried during a WOD, it really was a sign of weakness. It was at the very beginning, and I was going into failure during the situp portion of Angie. I was crying tears of defeat.

But this time…I wasn’t defeated. It hurt, but it didn’t make me fail. I cried, but I was crying because I wasn’t going to give up.

And in the end? Yeah, I hit that WOD with 90#. And I feel all the more strong for it.