Scared

I am scared....really scared.  I am also kicking myself (not literally) because I am so easily persuaded to do things that I really shouldn't agree to do.  Some people (YOU KNOW  WHO YOU ARE!) have managed to persuade me to enter the "Raising the Bar" Masters Crossfit Competition in Cardiff in April - that's 2013 not 2014 or 15 which would have made me a little more comfortable.  While "Masters" is crossfit code for old people, this doesn't mean that the competition isn't hard,  it's the qualifier for the European championship so the whole place is going to be full of ninjas.  If I'm honest the persuading point was the promise that the guys would be working out with their tops off... and now I'm regretting it, big time (things have got to be bad when the prospect of a room full of boys with their abs out isn't enough to make me feel better!).  To make matters worse, in the same week I was also persuaded to do Tough Mudder in September.  Now, what I hadn't appreciated was that this involves a 10 mile (not km) run and at the moment I can't even run 3 miles *moresighing*!

Sooo after a week off games due to lurgy I am back at the box, back in the pool and back on the treadmill with a vengeance.  I may be rubbish at most things in crossfit but, I reckon that in a month and a half's time I can aim to be a little less rubbish.

I was less than happy, therefore, on my first day back in the box (still scratchy and a bit lurgyfied) to see that the WOD was 6 sets of 6 clean and jerks and 6 hand stand wall walks.  The idea of hanging my cold-ridden head upside down was not attractive, also I can't do them!   Luckily the scaling allows you to do a half - so you get your feet up and shuffle your hands a bit and then walk back down - I have to say I was slightly in awe of the guys who managed the 36 full versions!  We had a strength session before starting, and I am steadily increasing my back squat now that I can get down full depth (I even made sure I had a box to check my depth as Andrew told me off for cheating last time!)  It was a full-on session so we were limited to 20 mins for the WOD I put a reasonably light weight on for the clean and jerk (22.5kg) as my shoulder is still feeling funky and I knew the wall walks would trash my shoulders.  After each shuffle up the wall I lay down and stretched out my arms before attempting the next rep, after 3 sets (actually who am I trying to kid!  After the first set)  it became increasingly difficult to persuade myself to push up to do the next rep, especially as I could just see steam rising from my body and my arms shaking uncontrollably (I think Hugh Thomas thought I had passed out at one stage, because I lay there for so long).  I amazingly managed to finish (according to my friend Murray) in 19.46 mins (I completely lost count and thought I had another full set to go, which was a little demoralising).

Having finished the torture I wobbled down the road to go home and have a nap. In the spirit of wishing to avoid complete humiliation at "raising the bar", and still having the memory of filthy fifty etched on my brain, I signed up for the open session the next day so that I could work on wall balls (and also sign off some more of the level 1 requirements).  While being off games I missed a workout called Karen - which is 150 wall balls for time.  As coach Glassman says “Hiding from your weaknesses is a recipe for incapacity and error,”  so I decided that the best way to get better was to face my nemesis.  I used a 4kg ball because I can't even throw the 6kg one a couple of inches and I used the green 9m  "ladies'/hobbits' " line because with the best will in the world I still can't hit the 10m "boys'/giants' " line.  I tried to concentrate on making the squat a full one and using both hands to throw the ball rather than my right hand as you would in netball.  I aimed at 5 with 5 breathes' rest and finished in 15 minutes 14seconds with no swearing! Obviously I now can't walk or move my arms and I have sessions booked for Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday so I shall be stretching like a lunatic for the next few days (I may even head to the sauna, might as well make use of my gym membership before I get rid of it!)

Apart from ramping up the exercise regime I have strayed a little from the paelo path - not so much with the wheat but with sugar and rice - so now it is that Lenten time again I have given up chocolate and sweeties and I am back in my cave now that I have a lovely new kitchen to cook with.   As KFC used to be my dirty, little secret I have found a paleo alternative at cookingcaveman which uses pimped up spicy coconut flour and egg- I added salt, pepper, paprika, ground cumin and a jerk chicken rub to my coconut flour, double dipped turkey escalopes alternatively in flour and egg, fried them for a couple of minutes either side and then cooked in the ove for 15 minutes or so.  They are great with a poached egg, asparagus and spicy sweet potato fries or with a tomato sauce and stir-fried green things

I am still in love with cavolo nero and will happily eat pretty much anything with it, although I draw the line, at the moment, at green drinks.  Apparently kale is  the latest big thing in the US whizzed up in a smoothie*bleurgh*.  However, having been to a really fab pop up restaurant at Hart's bakery run by MiCasa I may now be a cauliflower convert.  I ate a really lovely blended cauliflower dip which, didn't make me go bleurgh, in fact it was yummy and I ate a lot of it - so now I may have to start cooking cauliflower with spices and tasty things, and in a way that doesn't look like cauliflower - watch this space for my attempts at cauliflower rice and cauliflower pizza base.

Hangovers

Lets get this clear from the outset. I already know that hangovers and fitness are not fine bedfellows.  Just sometimes they collide accidentally and the aftermath  and, in fact, the duringmath (is that a word? If not it should be) is not pretty. Actually it's horrendous.
 Soooo I went wine tasting. I couldn't help it, it was a work thing.  I really had to go, honest!  I was only going to sip a couple and then it all went horribly wrong...we ended up in Goldbrick House drinking Bridget vespers ( I have cocktail named after me, cool huh!) and then other things and then it was 1am and everyone wanted to go to a club and finally about 4 hours too late the sensible voice in my head that must have been asleep or something, piped up and said " Bridge, you need to go to bed because you are up at 0630 for your swim fit class" doh!
My alarm went off at 0630 and I turned it off trying to think of reasons why it was a really good idea not to go. I didn't need to think very hard mainly because it hurt too much.  However I realised Mark Durnford, my swim coach, has my telephone number, and isn't afraid to use it, so I slowly and painfully dragged my still slightly shaky body to the pool. I tried not to breathe on Mark when I got there but I think he sussed me.  Oh boy did I get taught a lesson I won't forget in a hurry. Swimming and hangovers are a really terrible combination especially when you are doing timed, pyramid, interval swims ( I am seriously wondering whether he wandered past and saw me in the pub and planned the session especially).
I was hoping the physical exertion would eradicate the hangover as my old army buddies had sworn by a good long run after a night on the pop. However the b@stards didn't tell me that,while the process works, the pain that is involved is excruciating. Seriously I cannot advocate the 24 hour in bed recovery method strongly enough!  I'm pretty sure the evil Mark ( or as I like to call him, beast master) was chuckling gleefully under his professional, concerned exterior as I flailed around the pool like an epileptic tomato being electrocuted in a blender ( too many metaphors??)
Never, ever, EVER again...honest.  I mean it. Really.

Things get filthy

It's taken me over a week to summon up the courage to write about this. I am still shuddering to think about it.  I got the warning on Facebook that things might get filthy and I wish I hadn't. I made the mistake of googling "filthy fifty" and once I saw what I was in for I began to try and work out excuses for not going to the box (crossfitspeak for gym) the next day.  

As the lovely Hugh Thomas has been encouraging/pestering/cajoling/shaming me into attending regularly,due to my having been encouraged/pestered/cajoled/shamed into signing up for the Crossfit masters competition in April by Cherie Townsend (more on that in later posts), I knew that,barring mortal illness/injury, I would have to go *sigh*.  

I did contemplate breaking a finger but firstly I  was pretty sure that wouldn't be sufficient to persuade Hugh and secondly I'm generally quite cowardly about pain so breaking things wasn't a realistic option.  I didn't sleep....

I dragged myself to the box like a truculent teenager where I was met by a number of other people looking equally nervous.  I had resigned myself to abject humiliation and, after having seen a you tube clip of someone finishing in 14 minutes, to the fact that I would still be going when the next class started or would have the dreaded DNF on the board next to my name. 

Filthy fifty- for time- 50 reps of each exercise
Box jumps
Jumping pull ups
russian swings 
Walking lunges
Knees to elbows ( hanging from bar)
Push press
Back extensions
Wall balls
Burpees
Double unders (or 100 normal)
OMFG! Cardiac arrest is apparently optional.

The box superheroes started at the top of the list, we humans started with the push presses. I managed those RX (with the weight as prescribed), struggled with balancing on the Swiss ball for the back extensions and then failed to get a single wall ball. Seriously, 50 no reps!  A wall ball requires a weighted medicine ball, in my case a very light one.  You then do a full depth squat and then throw the ball as you straighten your legs (or jump in my case) to hit a line about 9ft off the ground, catch the ball as you squat again and repeat. Could I hit above that line? Could I f@&k! 

I was almost in tears at 30 when our head coach  Andrew came to see why there was a semi-hysterical middle aged woman swearing at a wall. He pointed out a slightly lower line that is apparently designed for hobbits and said I could count all the ones above that line instead. I would have smiled at him but I knew I had 50 burpees to do, and that is all I shall say about that. 

I shall skip past the double unders ( see what I did there?) mainly because I can't do them; so I slammed out 100 normal jumps.  Box jumps have been my nemesis but with my new improved Achilles tendons I managed to perform 50 (albeit on a very little box) reasonably elegantly and without the use of profane language. Then I did the jumpy pull up things that I don't really like very much and kettlebell Russian swings which were fine apart from generally being knackered and struggling to breathe through every orifice available.

Walking lunges hurt, that is all.  I insisted on doing the hanging version of the knee to elbow because I am trying to improve my pull-up strength- probably a mistake in hindsight as it took forever, even though I was only managing knees to waist. Everyone had finished by the time I was at 25 and only managing 2 at a time. Coach even offered the option of doing the rest as the lying on the floor version, but a little but of me decided that would be more humiliating than spending another 5 minutes with everyone watching me struggling to even hang off the bar. 

I finished in 34 minutes and then realised if it's named correctly that I had another 16 minutes to complete it and I should  have taken it a little easier ;-) All I can say is that I salute all my filthy compatriots and I f&£king hate wall balls.

Shamed!!

So I've been shamed into writing this blog - my lovely friend Tim Flower has pointed out that I haven't posted since November.  I've had loads of excuses....bucket loads, I'm the excuse expert :-D.  I'm all out of them now as the lovely Jo from the Parker Clinic has mended my back and stuck pins in my achilles, so not only am I back at crossfit avon but also back running.  To be honest it's run/walk and fairly basic stuff, but I've lasted 2 weeks and can still walk.  I love the get running app, a little personal trainer on my phone.  
As a result of Tim's gentle prodding I dusted off the psycho scales and closed my eyes - when I opened them I have to admit that I was gob-smacked to see that I hadn't accumulated any lard over Christmas, especially as I did no PE for 3 months.  I suppose that this is because I have managed to remain about 70% paleo (although I admit that I gorged on chocolate).  Hopefully with a little bit of a kick start on the paleo and the increase in sweating I will finally get back down to my default weight.

I have got the crossfit standards and so am hoping to get to level 2 in the next 6 months.  I managed to hold a handstand for 20 seconds and even managed to do a WOD upside down on a box scaling handstand pressups.  I have to admit that my aim to be able to do pullups has caused the most pain.  I am spending a lot of time hanging from the bars, swinging so that I can evetually do a kipping pullup, but that does have a tendency to result in an inability to lift my arms above horizontal.  My happiest moment, however, has been to be able to do 15 box jumps on a 15" box and alternate double unders without my achilles snapping.  I have even managed to achieve a PB of 20" box (which may not seem much but for me it's an achievement).  Have a bit of a girl crush on the bear complex.

I may have got a little over excited with my new physical ability as I have signed up for a crossfit competition in April - it's for old people (known as Masters in crossfit speak).  So now I have an incentive to go to crossfit 3 times a week and keep up with my running programme so that I can run 30 minutes non-stop by April.  If you fancy a laugh at the sight of an exhausted, slightly fat chick, lift weights and do burpees then head to Dragon Crossfit on 13th April (as an incentive to my female friends; I a reliably informed that the male athletes workout with their tops off ;-) )