<<< This is me, beginning the fourth of five workouts during my competition this weekend. I’m really proud of the way my leg looks, by the way. I totally worked for that!
Let me back up to Saturday morning…
My husband and I woke up early and hit the ground running. We grabbed our coolest CF accessories and bolted out the door with our cooler full of Paleo delights. By that, I mean protein shake powder, raw vegetables, hard boiled eggs, almond butter and almond muffins. Let the freaking begin. I thought all the way there “Do I have the everything I need?” “Was I going to publicly embarrass myself?” “Would I be able to finish before time ran out?” Dread. Horror. Why was I treating this competition like a trip to the dentist?! Get ahold of yourself, Linda!!
So, we get there. We settle in and get our folding chairs in place and head into the gym to warm up. Still freaking. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of a kettle bell and box for the first workout. The announcer started counting down the last 30 seconds and my heart was beating so fast. 3-2-1! And I went hard. I finished 3rd in that heat which I thought was decent for a rookie. But talk about distraction-people screaming, judges judging, crazy music playing. I don’t know how I focused. Took an hour rest, then did the “Floater WOD”. Again, I did super decent. Some of the worry and tension was gone. The 3rd WOD was a Clean Ladder. I got through the first two lifts and then I got to the third, which was my very recent max. I didn’t squat, I flailed, I freaked, I failed the lift. I was on the verge of tears. This was getting old. The drive home was dramatic, with wails of “Why didn’t I squat?” ” Why aren’t I a strong lifter?”
Sunday morning was quiet at the breakfast table. I was tired and demoralized. It was a crap night of sleep. I stayed quiet to avoid tears and help my husband to preserve his pre-game mental state. He’s a saint for putting up with me. He kept his distance because he knows what’s good for him.
Two more WOD’s to go. If it weren’t for some major intervention from my coach and my gym mates that morning I know things would have gone differently. I won’t bore you with more WOD details. I did ’em. I did not conquer the field, but I did good. I just put my head down and worked. In the end, I finished 6 out of 10 and my husband 7 out of 12. We’ll be back next year.
The take away: Don’t worry, you won’t die. Don’t worry, people won’t judge you as a weakling. Don’t worry, because now you have a big “worry-zit” on your face from too much worry. Competition 1 out of the way. Whew.
What did I eat as a post competition treat? See below: