“What is the worst thing that can happen to you?” I asked a client this morning when we were discussing honesty and the courage to speak out when you disagree with someone.
For many, getting fired is that worst thing. I don’t fear getting fired. Instead, I fear losing my family. But that’s life stuff…
When it comes to training, I fear burpees. I dread them. I hate them with every fibre of my being. And while I often use anger as the motivator to help me go bigger, better and faster, nothing can help me conquer a burpee.
Which brings me to the worst things that could possibly happen to me today…
1. The burpee fine
Today’s training session was particularly brutal. Following some rather enjoyable yet challenging back squats (weights are my thang), the WOD (three sets of 400m running, 21 kettlebell swings and 12 pull-ups / ring rows) still had to be conquered within 15 minutes.
With my ankle still sucky and recovering from injury and surgery, I don’t run too far or fast. Which means I tend to be slower in these sessions.
But it turned out to be the kettlebells that killed me.
Every time I bent over to swing that bloody kettlebell over my head, I could taste the piece of droëwors I had on the way to my Box. It was not a good taste.
Refusing to do the scaled version of the exercise, I was about to puke and coach Josh was ready to take photos in case I did. But I didn’t – instead I curled into a fetal position when I finished (missing completing my full WOD by 8 freaking ring rows) and tried not to cry.
Once I could walk upright, I left and got into the car where it took another 15 minutes of staring into space before I could start the engine.
And that’s when it happened.
I forgot to put my kettlebell away. Noooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And then, the next Worst Thing happened shortly after…
2. Accepting my love for the CrossFit cult
Why is this a bad thing? Because I promised myself that this would be a pitstop on my journey to Ironman awesomeness. The thing that would help me get strong again.
So really, no long term commitments; just a detour from my original plans.
“I will never even take a bicep flexing selfie,” I told my friends.
So why then, three weeks in, did I check myself in the mirror for the most miniscule signs of burgeoning muscle definition?
This was not the plan!!
It was a terrible, horrible, no good day.
And I loved it.