Fat girl tries CrossFit — The first week
Like most decisions in my life, I didn’t rush to try CrossFit. I am nothing if not a slow decision maker. I had to do as much research as possible. I had to think about what it would be like. I had to pester my co-worker, Dan, about what I could expect, what kind of workouts we’d do, how many other people would be there, what were the odds I’d pass out and die, etc. As you may have guessed, I’m not a fan of surprises.
So, by the time I started on Jan. 11, I had what I figured to be a fairly good grasp on what I was about to experience. I knew that 1) I was going to be breathing heavily, 2) I was going to be sweaty, 3) it was going to suck, and 4) I was going to mostly hate it.
Turns out, I was mostly right. The Workout Of The Day (from here on out to be referred to as “W.O.D.”) was five rounds of 25 situps, 20 lunges, 15 wallballs to the 10-foot mark and 10 pull ups (I’ll address all this fun new terminology in a later post). Since I was new, I did only three rounds. That was plenty.
I can’t say that I totally hated it though. It was tough and not a lot of fun, and I was breathing far heavier than I would prefer, but more than anything, I just felt what I feel whenever I start something new: stupid. It had nothing to do with the people or the instructors, all of whom are some of the nicest, most encouraging people I’ve possibly ever met. Stupid is just my default emotion whenever I’m learning something new.
But shortly after that first workout, the stupid faded and was replaced with giddy. I’d actually tried it. I hadn’t died. And I was kind of, sort of, oddly looking forward to the next go-round.