This morning’s WOD was:
50-40-30-20-10 of box jumps (20″), double-unders, and sit-ups. (That is, you did 50 of all three exercises, then 40, etc.) Some CrossFit workouts are named, benchmark workouts, and all the benchmarks have girl names. Without the box jumps, this workout is known as “Annie”. With the box jumps, it’s known as “terrible”.
I can jump a 20″ box, but I usually do 17″ during WODs because it takes me forever if I don’t. Today was no exception.
The WOD began, and on my eleventh box jump, I felt a sproing-floobity-boop. I headed into the other room. Coach Paul said, “Amy! Where are you going?!” I said, “My sports bra came unhooked.” He said, “Come back! We don’t care!” But I knew what I had to do. There were double-unders coming up. I didn’t want anybody getting physically or emotionally hurt.
I managed to reattach the clasp, hurried back into the gym, and said a little prayer to the brassiere gods. Fortunately, there were no more boob mishaps.
At one point, Coach Paul started celebrating loudly the fact that Lindsay had done the double-unders in the round of 30 unbroken. My double-unders are still inconsistent at best. I’ve gotten 18 in a row, but sometimes it’s three. Or two. Or one. This time, I thought, “Goddammit. I’m going to do 30 double-unders unbroken.”
One thing I realized recently is that I simply wasn’t jumping high enough to get the rope around twice between bounces. So I concentrated on that, and the first ten went by easy. I kept going. Twenty down. Head up, jump high, keep the rhythm: 24, 25, 26, 27, 28—
Stupid double-unders.
I adjusted the rope, finished the last two, and started my sit-ups.
I had sort of been keeping pace with Lindsay (though she was jumping a 20″ box, thus doing a harder workout), but she smoked me on the last two rounds. Once again, I was doing my last round when every other soul in the gym was done.
And everybody cheered, as they do. And that’s so nice, of course. But it also makes me feel a little like a circus freak.
I finished in 28:05 and then sat there pretending to wipe sweat off my face but really crying into my T-shirt.
Oh, sorry I was all up in your face during your post-WOD crying time. I always just assume I’m the only person who cries during and/or after WODs.
Ms. Amy, if you hadn’t stopped to put the girls away, you would’ve had a finishing time at least 2 minutes faster! You did awesome today, and I’m very proud of you. Hugs! Kisses!
Don’t understand what the problem was; you’ve got nice boobs… ?
Paul: Imagine you’ve got a stiffy, but it’s still kind of floppy. Now imagine it’s at least three inches long (four when you pull, five when you pull hard) with a circumference of maybe a foot and a half. Now imagine you’ve got two of them, and they’re both frantically jostling around dangerously near your face. Jumping around sans bra is very uncomfortable :P
Amy, you’re still way faster than me and better at DUs (my record is like 14), and you know it. You’re definitely not the only one who cries during/post WOD (and also sometimes before). Love ya, and can’t wait to be back in the gym with you!
I enjoy all this boob talk and imagining.
so…you stopped to hook your bra in the middle and still caught me. (i thought you’d stopped to pee). I am glad I could be a source of inspiration, even if i still missed the last two on my ten round. also, i’m probably at least 3 inches taller than you so its about the same work out.
p.s. you are awesome.
Dan, my boobs are like a Bengal tiger: nice to look at when contained, otherwise frightening.
Thank you, Nelly. Perfect explanation. (I’m not faster than you though.)
Lindsay, but I *didn’t* catch you! P.S. You are awesome.
Amy, if you ever become a Crossfit coach, your nickname will be “Coach Tigertits.”
And yes you so are.
Perseverance. I adore that about you.
you guys are weird. my kid is beginning to look like i always wanted to. oh, if there had been crossfit in my misspent youth . . .
Tigertits! Me likey.
Jackie’s Mom, it’s not so much perseverance as begrudged slogging. Wait, maybe that still counts.
Margo, YOU’re weird. The weirdest.