Playtime!
I just love this picture: boy and plane, off the ground.
Outta Gas
Today's WOD got me. I mean it got me good.
It's not unusual to find bodies all over the floor when the WOD is over, but today I died much earlier than expected.
Started with 4 sets of 10 reps each of Bench Presses (115#, 120#, 135#, 145) the moved got right to work on 3 rounds of:
It's not unusual to find bodies all over the floor when the WOD is over, but today I died much earlier than expected.
Started with 4 sets of 10 reps each of Bench Presses (115#, 120#, 135#, 145) the moved got right to work on 3 rounds of:
- 20 Upright Row (45#)
- 30 Ab mat situps
- 400m run
- 50 walking lunges
- 60 sec Plank
Got the WOD going well enough, but in the second round I ended my run feeling like something was off. Stepping out the door of the cardio room to lunge my way back to the weight room, I stopped for a second at the water fountain, got a drink, a few more breaths and counted 40 lunge steps to the weight room. 10 more inside and I was done.
I assumed the Plank position and sweat began streaming off my head like someone poured a glass of water over me. Don't get me wrong. I was already sweating--but this was a stream. 15 seconds in, my body was shaking. I closed my eyes while the clock ticked down a painfully slow 45 seconds. I dropped to the floor and could not move.
The floor held me as sweat ran in rivers. Still could not move. My only thought was, "what's happening? Ok, rest a minute." A minute went by, then two. My training partner finished his rows and sit-ups and I was still on the floor. He stepped out to hit the treadmill. When he returned 2 minutes later, he found me sitting on the bench at my station.
My spirits sank. I wanted to finish. I needed to finish.
I'm the "coach" after all. The example.
And here I am sitting on the bench looking like someone hosed me then beat me with it.
I strategized, "Ok, One thing at a time. 20 rows. Split 'em up. Two sets of 10. Four sets of 5. 20 sets of 1." Then I did the sit-ups in my head. "Three sets of 10 . . ." and so on.
Me and the floor had a stare-off. I couldn't move.
My partner counted out 50 lunges like he was at a CrossFit wedding, coming nearby asking "you ok?"
I pulled my shirt over my head and closed my eyes. The Minister of Silly Walks lunged back to his station for his one minute plank. I was done.
Smoked.
Empty tank.
Like someone flipped a switch.
Disappointed I did not finish, we put our toys away and got cleaned up to re-enter the afternoon.
The only thing I could think that happened was that I did not eat breakfast. I never miss breakfast. But today I did. So if that's the lesson, I won't be missing breakfast again. But if the WOD simply kicked my butt, well, that ain't happening ever again either.
It was too much like quitting and I don't like that. The word never crossed my lips, but it sure felt like it. Just ran out of gas.
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