Crossfit vs. Comfort Idol. Game On. (Part Two)

Crossfit Day One:
The anxiety started as soon as I woke up. My stomach felt sick. My heart was racing. In just a few short hours, I would be miserable. Please. I was already miserable. Didn’t this anxiety count as a calorie burner? My heart was racing like I had just run a mile.

I shelved all of my excuses that were flooding my mind to get out of this upcoming awfulness and drove the very long 3 miles to “the box”.

I was right, it was awful. It was hard. I’m not coordinated. Nothing in my body or mind was prepared for that kind of difficulty. I was sweating profusely. And then he said those awful words – alright guys, let’s get started. Wait, we’re not done? That wasn’t the work out? Nope. Just the warm up.

I looked around me in panic thinking I would find the rest of the crew collapsed over with pain in their sides. Surely they feel as awful as I do. No one else was sweating. No one else was breathing hard. Nope, just me.

For the next hour, everything in my body hated me. It was stretched and pulled and asked to lift heavy things (well, okay, it was just a PVC pipe, but still). My heart was about to explode in my body, my sides were screaming in pain. I nearly threw up during the cool down. This is no cool down. This is extended torture. How is this supposed to feel good?

I collapsed when I got home. I was dreading climbing the stairs to take a shower, dreading having to stand up in the shower, dreading having to pull my arms over my head, dreading even laying here. Nothing could hurt more.

Until it did…

Crossfit Day Two:
I woke myself up with a painful groan. What in the world? Oh, I was just trying to roll over, no big deal. Except that it was a big deal. My insides were tearing. I put my feet down on the ground and used every bit of furniture around me to help me get out of bed.

No way will I be able to work out again. Here comes the anxiety…

I spent all day at work complaining to anyone who would listen. You would have thought that I had been tortured against my will instead of the reality that I went on my own volition. Typing has never been so grueling in all of my life.

I brought my bag of workout clothes with me so I could leave straight from the office. I didn’t trust myself to make any stops.

The coach took us through several movements. All of which I thought would kill me. But I didn’t die. I didn’t fall down. My skin didn’t tear and my “muscles” didn’t fall out.

I made it. I couldn’t believe it. I worked out two days in a row. I was feeling great about myself. I was feeling like I had really accomplished something…

Crossfit Day Three:
Until I tried to get out of bed. Oh my heavens. I couldn’t do it. I had to have assistance to get up today. Kyle helped pull me up and I grunted with every move I made.

In all of these negatives, I found a positive: I planned and thought a whole lot more than I normally do. I drank less coffee because I didn’t want to have to walk to the restroom that many times. I thought through everything I needed before I got up. It masqueraded as efficiency, but it was really just fear. Fear of how awful I would feel when I had to use any muscle in my body.

This is me…


Just to clarify – this is PRE-workout. I am entirely too prideful to post a post-workout pic.

I actually had fun this night.
I know. I can’t believe I just typed that either.

But I did. Because it was true. It was also true that I was getting excited that my body didn’t own me. (Let’s be real, I was also feeling pretty grateful that I was still alive.)

It had been a really long time since I had worked that hard. It had been forever since I had pushed myself past what felt at least okay, or not that bad. I looked around me at the end of the workout, fist bumped my new crossfit friends, and shakily walked back to my car.

What in the world was happening? Where did I find the energy to smile at the end of this awful session? How did I just enjoy that?

And then it hit me. I knew what was happening.


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