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.