When you Love to Hate it

 It is a strange feeling to look at last week and think "I almost died". CrossFit almost killed me, yet here I am. Last Friday, I completed my final workout at the Albuquerque gym that promised to 'tighten' my sofa body in shape for a PR filming piece happening for work this week.

Last Friday morning, I woke to a much improved sore body (meaning I didn't cry). The countless Salonpas I'd taped literally all over my body helped beyond words can express...and maybe that bottle of wine helped too (I must interject that if you have not found the little strips of medicated awesomeness that are Salonpas, you MUST). I left the hotel worried I wouldn't come back after yet another beat-you-to-a-bloody-pulp workout. I'd be something like the consistency of oatmeal, a permanent part of the floor mat at CrossFit. I said a little melancholy goodbye to the air-conditioned, fountain filled, lovely hotel lobby and headed toward certain death.

The look on the faces of the instructors and other crazies was one of pure shock as I wobbled in. I think they mistakenly thought the fact that I showed up meant that I ...1) liked this torture and 2) was ready to work harder!

Like someone suffering from PTSD I can only share snippets of what happened to me. The reality of the gore and pain I endured is too much for me to relive, so I give you 2 words 'burpees' and 'rowing'. Turns out they DO have machines at this gym, sadistic rowing machines.

In regular CrossFit fashion the 2 exercises were a combination of back and forth and LOTS of pain. By the end my Barbie look-a-like friend was swinging her gorgeous just-the-right-amount-of-body long blonde hair out of her face to beam and encourage me that "we can do this!". I've decided she might be a Stepford Wife, there is no way her happy demeanor during this ridiculous workout could be real. By the end I sat on the rower with both legs shaking involuntarily, violently reminding me that I had pushed too far, my stomach raised its own objections with bile surfacing to my mouth, I was a mess.  I was oatmeal.

I did manage to walk out of the class, eventually, and I think they were relieved to not have to call an ambulance. I promised to never see them again as I would be returning home soon. But now, at home in my safe little village, a CrossFit free zone, I hate to admit that I miss it! It feels like an abusive relationship. I think I need an intervention.

I'm back to all my old excuses...my iPod isn't working, my kiddo would need a babysitter, it's too hot...this is a downward spiral. I need the tough love of a CrossFit team that won't let me give up and scares the crap out of me. Is that a thing? Exercise by way of fear?

BUT, everyone can rest assured my complaining has not ceased as I am signing up for a 30k race (18 miles off road)! So I guess I will now be forced to set down my glass of wine and start running again. Of course not today, today I'm already dressed in a cute outfit and have a wine drinking date.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com