One thing I love about Crossfit is that for one hour, the only problems I have include avoiding getting stuck with the bulbous blue 12kg kettle bells (which everyone hates), lifting heavy things over my head without getting a concussion, and seeing how much anti-gravity enhancement I can get (*jumping) during pull-ups.
Crossfit is the ultimate stress-reliever for me; and if you didn’t know me, you might think that after a workout I was on drugs because of that peculiar relaxed bubbliness that shapes my attitude as well as my physiology afterwards.
Life is good after a WOD.
But occasionally stress takes over a part of my brain, and even though I’m not thinking about it consciously, I’m not quite fully engaged in the workout.
Even though I read yesterday’s workout on the blog (at home) and on the board (repeatedly during my warm-up), I STILL asked my partner a million times what we were doing; and I STILL messed it up. I could read and hear and see the workout, but my mind wasn’t tracking.
I hate that feeling.
I also felt weak, but I’m not sure how much of that was physical and how much was mental.
Presses are hard. Yes. They’re kind of like the strict pull-up of lifting because you can’t compensate with momentum. Though I did 30kg in the warm-up, I got ‘stuck’ about shoulder high during the WOD. And once I was ‘stuck’ physically, I was stuck mentally.
I hate that feeling too.
Usually I can dig down deep to some source of molten anger and push through, but that well was dry.
I just had nothing left.
I was physically and mentally empty, and I couldn’t even come up with a great excuse.
If this were someone else’s blog, I would tell her that it’s okay. We all have bad days. That you have to let go of the pain, the stress, the frustration and let it all evaporate like a sweat angel from the floor. Because negativity will only hold you back.
I would tell her that a single day of a lobotomized WOD isn’t that bad, because at least, in the middle of a personal hurricane, with rubble flying at her from every direction, she took time to go to the box and to work some things out in a healthy place.
I would tell her there IS strength in her. She just needs to go Big Oil: cap the old well, move the drill to a different location and tap into a new current that’s flowing unseen beneath the rocky layers.
Strength is there, even when she can’t see it. Even when she can’t feel it or even understand where it’s going to come from. But it IS there. I believe that now.
On Saturday, I’ll walk through my old, empty house with my landlord. It will give me a real sense of closure to my old life. It will be difficult, because ghosts still run through those halls, and it will be hard not to romanticize it.
I’ll have to remind myself of the dusty, dry, hard times too, so I’ll remember to look to the future, and the vast stores of potential waiting to be unearthed.