Sometimes there's crying in Crossfit

Sometimes there's crying in Crossfit

When I think of Crossfit WODs, I think of grueling, intense workouts. They leave me on the floor exhausted and dripping with sweat, but overall excited that I made it through. That accomplishment gives me a high that lasts until the next class. But, sometimes... just sometimes... there's crying in Crossfit.

Let me explain. I'm a pretty sensitive person. My feelings are easily hurt but I'm also quick to forgive. I also let self-doubt get the best of me. That happened in the WOD today. It was a chipper (for time) of

10 thrusters (at 35#)

15 bar over burpees

20 thrusters

25 bar over burpees

30 thrusters

35 bar over burpees

Before starting, I jokingly accused my wonderful coach, Christine, of programming this to get back at me for something. Why else would she put two of my least favorite movements together on a day she knew I'd be there? I joked, but the creeping vines of self-doubt were slowly threading their way through my grey matter. Sure, 35# thrusters are super light, but would I be able to get through them quick enough? I can do burpees, but 25 in a row? 35 in a row? Plus, jump over the bar? That would take forever!

I'm pretty terrible (in my head) at anything with jumping. And, I can maybe do 7 burpees in a row but when I'm tired, maybe only 5 or worse 3 in a row.

As the clock counted down (3... 2... 1...) my anxiety and doubt notched higher and higher.

I didn't want to be there (1 thruster, 2 thruster, 3 thruster).

Didn't want to do this (8, 9, 10...).

I would be slow (1 burpee).

Ungainly (jump over the bar).

Awkward (2 burpees).

I would look like I was dying (jump over the bar).

I wouldn't enjoy any part of it (3 burpees).

By the time I was in the second set of burpees (25 of them), I was choking down tears. Get it together, Sabrina! There's no crying in Crossfit! Put on a brave face and just keep moving! But in the next moment, I was losing all motivation. My own doubt had gotten the best of me and no pep talk would make it better. This was too hard. I was surely dying. I wasn't enjoying any part of this.

The clock ticked on. I gasped for air. I struggled to keep moving.

At some point, Christine cheered, "You're almost to the time cap! Just two more minutes!"

I should have been excited to stop, but I wasn't. After all that anguish, I couldn't give up so easily. If I did, who knows what would happen the next time I had to do thrusters and burpees. Would I not even show up that day? I couldn't betray myself like that.

"No, Christine. I'm finishing this."

And I did. I continued gasping and struggling. Christine counted down my burpees (14...13...12...). As the clock hit 27:07, I made my last jump over the bar. I did it. I sat on a nearby bench and I cried.

I cried out of frustration and out of embarrassment. I cried because I was finished, because I made it through. The poor guys in my class looked concerned and unsure about a crying woman (you know the theme, there's no crying in Crossfit!). A few fist bumps and hugs later, the tears dried up but the lump in my throat remained.

Then, perspective came. "I remember Sabrina's first week," Christine cheerfully reminisced. "She asked to scale 5 burpees down to 3. Now, look! 75 burpees in one workout!"

The lump eased. I finally had something to be proud of. Even through all the self-doubt and tears, I was making progress. Huge progress! What more could I ask for?

I collected myself, put a little smile on my face, and went to practice double unders. Which I'm proud to report, I'm continuing to fail spectacularly at! I even have the whip marks to prove it! But, what matters the most, is that I'm here, I'm trying, and I'm making progress.