I Made It!

I just got my official invitation to the 2014 Granite Games in St. Cloud this September!  I'm at a bit of a loss for words (enjoy it while you can).  I'm thrilled, and excited, and a little bit freaked and more than a little bit scared.  I can think of at least 50 things that I want to work on and improve before September...and beyond that I really can't think of anything to say except "Thanks!!" to the SISU coaches, "Expect me to be spending a lot more time at CrossFit" to the Hubster, and "I'm sorry" to anyone who comes here wanting to read about speedskating--because, while I'll continue with my skating training, I'm pretty sure my summer just got taken over by CrossFit!

Final Granite Games Masters Sectional: The "Big Girl" WOD

Today would be the last Granite Games Sectional WOD;  I would re-attempt the workout I had bailed on on Friday, Fail Day.  It seemed like a fairly simple WOD: 3 cleans, 3 jerks; 2 cleans, 2 jerks; 1 clean, 1 jerk, at 95 pounds for masters women.   I had watched Coach Pat do it (twice), as well as the two other SISU Masters Sectionals athletes, and it didn't seem bad.  Plus, it was short; just a four minute AMRAP.  Really, how bad could it be?

So I was a bit surprised when I talked to HatGuy on the way into the box. HatGuy is competing in the Sectionals in the non-master's men's category.  He's a very talented CrossFitter who makes everything look as easy as I make it look hard, but perhaps his most impressive talent is his ability to complete almost any WOD without losing his hat.  True, it did fly off a couple times during the muscle ups that the young 'uns had to do instead of chest to bar pullups--but he retrieved it and put it back on each time, so I didn't dock him any talent points for that.  Anyway, when I asked HatGuy which workout he'd be doing today (we all seem to be on different schedules), he said "the Big Boy workout." When I looked confused, he elaborated "you know, the one with the cleans."

Well, I hadn't thought of WOD #4 as particularly a "Big Boy" workout...but then I remembered.  I'd only seen masters athletes complete the WOD--and they used a scaled weight.  The young guys had to clean and jerk 225 pounds. And then I remembered further...on Friday, as my unhappy stomach and shoulder and I attempted to warm up, a guy had done a 225 pound clean and jerk--and when he dropped the bar after completing the lift, I thought it was going to go through the floor.

So yeah, a Big Boy WOD.

And, when I thought about it, I realized that it was going to be a "Big Girl" WOD for me as well.  95 pounds is close to my PR for a clean (I've done 105) and is my PR for jerks (as of Online Qualifier WOD #1).  And that was when my shoulder was feeling much better.  Once again, I thought I might be looking at completing a small part of the WOD--in this case, the first three cleans--and then spending the rest of my time futilely trying to move past the next movement, in this case the three jerks.

After the number of times I surprised myself in the Qualifier and the Sectionals you'd think I'd have learned to trust myself a bit more by now, eh?

But, as with the other WODs, I figured all I could do was my "whole-assed" best (and I have definitive proof that I had done my whole-assed best in yesterday's pistol WOD, because today my whole ass hurts). So I completed the thorough warmup prescribed by Coach Jason, and worked hard on trying not to bend my arms early in the clean.  I'm finally getting to where I can feel how much easier cleans and snatches are when I do them correctly, and 95 pounds is heavy enough that I certainly want all the "easier" I can get.

This WOD called for multiple cleans in a row and then multiple jerks in a row, rather than the usual clean-and-jerk combo.  I knew, though, that I was going to have to set the bar down after each jerk and re-clean it for the next attempt; I didn't dare try to lower the bar back to front rack position because I knew it would aggravate my shoulder too much.  So I knew I was looking at doing more cleans than I technically needed to. Proper technique--or at least, as close to proper as I could get--would be essential.  Any time "proper technique" is essential, I get a bit nervous...

And then it was WOD time.  The first three cleans were, as I had anticipated, no problem.

The jerks were a bit of a different story.  Each one took several moments of "pause and psych myself up" before the attempt, and all were a struggle.  I lost the bar behind me once...

 Damn, that's not good

Fortunately I'm pretty good at leaping out of the way

Now, where's that bar?

...and had to do a bit of wobbling about a couple other times before I could stabilize everything enough for Coach Jason to indicate that the rep counted.

Doin' a little two-step with 95 pounds

I had hoped to get through one complete round, or 12 reps...so when I finished my 16th rep and threw the bar down just as time ran out, I did indeed feel like I had completed the WOD like a "Big Girl."

Those rubber plates bounce good, don't they?

And then, (risking becoming an even bigger girl), I once again went to McDonald's to upload the video and submit it for scoring--and to have a celebratory hot fudge sundae.  

And then Sectionals were done.

And I have to say, this has been one of the most fun athletic events I've ever done.  I've surprised myself with what I can do more times than I thought possible; I've had a blast getting to watch really good CrossFitters do their stuff; and I've generally just enjoyed the hell out of every minute of the Qualifier and the Sectionals. And whether or not I end up qualifying for the Granite Games, I consider this whole experience a huge success and I can't thank the SISU coaches enough for making it possible.

And now you'll have to excuse me...I need to go refresh the Leaderboard for the 100th time and check the standings...

Granite Games Sectionals part 3: Drop it Low--On One Leg

Last winter, the Hubster and I stood in an ice arena parking lot talking to some friends after a women's broomball game the Hubster had coached.  One of the women was dancing around to someone's radio, and her boyfriend made a comment about "dropping it low."  When I responded with a puzzled look and a "huh?" (hey, I'm old and I don't get out much), the Hubster turned to his friend and said "see, Ace" (yes, that's really his nickname), "your wife or girlfriend isn't even supposed to know what that means."

Well, I still can't claim to fully understand the meaning of the phrase (but I do know what twerking is, thanks ever so much Miley)...but I think speedskaters and CrossFitters have their own definitions of the term.

For speedskaters, the goal in "lowness" is skating with a knee bend of 90-100 degrees. This sounds bad enough, but now try the CrossFit version, where "low" in a squat is defined as "below parallel to the ground," with the hip crease below the knee...or what CrossFitters  refer to as "ass to grass."

Now try it on one leg.

This is what is called a "pistol," and this is what was in store for us for Granite Games Sectionals WOD #2 (remember, we're doing them out of order).  An 8 minute AMRAP of 16 snatches, for us old ladies at only 55 pounds, then 16 pistols (alternating legs), then 10 snatches/pistols, then 6, then back to 16 again and so on and so on.

Well, for me this was looking like another "get to a certain point and then spend the rest of the time working on trying to get that one particular movement that you've never done before" WOD.  In previous WODs these movements have been 95 pound jerks, kipping pullups, and chest to bar pullups--and I'm happy to say that I managed to achieve all of them.

This time, the movement was left leg pistols.

I've done right leg ones once or twice, but because my left leg is quite a bit weaker (due, I assume, to an old low back injury that Coach TieGuy--who is a physical therapist--said had been causing my left glute not to work), I've never achieved a left leg pistol.  So I figured I'd be looking at a score of 17--the 16 snatches and one right leg pistol.

Per Coach Jason's advice, I spent a lot of time warming up and mobilizing for the pistols.  This included working on ankle flexibility, doing "perfect squats," and doing one-let "sit up get ups"  which I struggled to do on the left leg.  Then I tried a couple pistols.  I achieved a couple on the right leg, but none on the left.  Then Coach Alye lent me her "Olympic lifting shoes,"  which the coaches all said should make a huge difference.  And they did...but I still didn't get a left leg pistol.

And then it was time to go.  As I dashed to my bag for a last-minute-almost-forgot hand-taping (no sense aggravating those newly healed rips with snatches), Coach Pat yelled his final advice to me: "Don't be a pussy!"

I'm confident that I've never gotten that advice before an athletic competition before.

So the WOD started.  As I'd predicted, the 16 snatches were no problem; I even did them pretty much unbroken.

Then it was Pistol Time.

Right leg...

...and then left.

Well, attempting left, anyway.  There were some setbacks..

...or, more accurately, some fall-overs.

But eventually, miracle of miracles...

...I achieved a left-leg pistol.

After the first one I just jumped back into the right leg pistol, because that first left one had been pretty hard-won, and I figured that it was likely to be the only one.  And for a while I was right; I fell over and touched my other foot to the ground and generally floundered.  But then I hit another left one--and this time I couldn't help celebrating a little.

I believe I've been caught mid-celebration dance.

Eventually I made it through all 16 pistols; that's right, I did 8 left leg pistols.  Who knew?  I still had some time left, so I sprinted towards the bar...and right out of the camera frame.

Going...

...going...

...gone.

I can't tell if that's a fragment of  the 10 pound plate at the 

top of my final snatch in the upper right...

So my last snatch, before the final few seconds ticked away, was out of sight and therefore uncountable.  And then the timer rang and since I somehow was thinking that I had 10 minutes instead of 8, I was so surprised that I dropped the bar on my head.  Well, OK, not exactly dropped; technically I was still holding onto it.  Let's say I lowered it briskly onto my head.  At any rate, it hurt...but I really didn't care.

I had gotten eight left-leg pistols.  I had wildly exceeded my expectations for my own personal version of "dropping it low"--and getting back up.

Fail Day

Today was supposed to be the Granite Games Masters Sectionals WOD #4 :  a 4-minute AMRAP of 3 cleans, 3 jerks, 2 cleans, 2 jerks, 1 clean, 1 jerk at (for us old ladies) 95 pounds.

#4 didn't happen today.

However, at the risk of being accused of TMI, #2 did happen.  A lot of #2.  For both me and the dog.

Yes, it was a crappy day.

Which was  a shame, because it started out so well: a nice breakfast of Paleo waffles and microwave bacon (dog food and microwave bacon for Keira), then a walk with Keira in the park across the road, then some internet surfing (including, perhaps, intense studying of a quick glance at the Granite Games leaderboard.) WOD #4 was scheduled to happen at 1:30, so I planned to spend the morning relaxing and doing whatever sounded good.

Until, as I sat at the computer, I was suddenly the recipient of some very intense looks from a very agitated dog.  And then some whining and some random bouncing and head-shaking that was clearly intended to communicate a need.  Unfortunately, Keira is a bit dumb and this is as far as her communication goes; to further narrow down the source of the unmet doggy need, I have to become an active participant in the conversation.  In other words, I have to play "am I getting warmer" with the dog by walking towards the various things she might be wanting--food and outside are of course the biggies--and seeing whether the tail stops wagging or gains speed as I approach the item.

The Great Communicator, giving me her best "That's right,

I want something.  Good luck figuring out what it is." look.

Usually walking towards the food dish gets a vigorous wag, while walking towards the door causes the tail wag to slow and finally stop and Keira's head to droop as she clearly wonders how she got stuck with such a dim owner.  This time, though, when I walked towards the door she sprinted ahead of me.  Hmm, strange...we were just at the park...

Well, once we got outside it became clear why she was in such a hurry.  I'll spare you further details...except to say that by the time we got back in the house it was becoming evident that Keira's was not the only digestion that was malfunctioning today.

I'm blaming the bacon.

At any rate, by the time I got to SISU a couple hours later, my stomach was still not a happy camper, and my enthusiasm for tossing 95 pounds around was quickly fading.  But I figured that since I was there I might as well give it a try, so I started out on a 400 meter warmup jog--which quickly turned into a 100 meter warmup walk.

It's not a good sign when you DNF the warmup jog.

Things did not improve when I actually got a bar set up and started warming up for the cleans and jerks.  The lighter cleans were OK, and the first jerk was fine.  But this WOD called for three cleans in row and then three jerks (rather than three combined clean-and-jerks), and so on down the ladder.  This meant lowering the bar from overhead to front rack position between jerks (rather than dropping it unceremoniously after a clean-and-jerk as usual).  And lowering weight has typically been what my shoulder objects to most. As soon as I lowered the 65 pounds from completed jerk back to front rack position, my left shoulder/bicep tendon/whatever it is reminded me in no uncertain terms that: 1) I had forgotten to take my Advil pre-WOD; 2) it was still not happy with the kips and chest-to-bar pullups I had made it do yesterday; and 3) there was no way it was going to participate in lowering 95 pounds from overhead to front rack.

No way.

Still, I worked my way up to 95 pounds, cleaning the bar, doing  a jerk, and then dropping it, just to see if I could complete the WOD by cleaning the bar up before every jerk.  By the time I got to 95, though, the clean was barely happening and there was no way I was going to get that bar overhead.

And besides, my stomach still hurt.

So I went home.

After a couple hours at home, though, I was feeling better, so I decided to try to upload my WOD video so I could send my score in.  We have a data limit on our home computer, so uploading videos is a "find the free wi fi" sort of thing.  Can I help it if the nearest free wi fi is in a McDonald's?  And you can't just go into a McDonald's and not order anything, right?

Which is how I found myself enjoying a very tasty but definitely not Paleo hot fudge sundae while I attempted to upload my video (clearly my stomach had recovered, even if my willpower hadn't).

Unfortunately, the video uploading was no more successful than the workout had been--I couldn't remember my YouTube user name and password so I couldn't upload the video.  So in the end the hot fudge sundae was in vain.

But it was still pretty good.

So then I came home and attempted to turn in my score from last night's wall ball/C2B WOD; Coach Alye had taped that workout on her iPad because mine was being used as the timer, and she had emailed me the link.  So I put  the score and the video link on the Granite Games website...but put in the score from the dubs workout and the video from the wall ball workout.

Obviously I should not have bothered to get out of bed today.

After a panicked email exchange with the good folks at the Granite Games (who assured me that I could just link the correct video anytime before the scoring closed on Sunday), I decided to watch the video of the wall ball/C2B WOD.

O.  M.  G.

I suddenly have even greater respect for any coach who has ever worked with me...not just for being able to teach me anything (I tend to be a bit clumsy, you know), but for being able to watch me attempt various physical activities--whether CrossFit, speedskating, broomball, or any other activity I've ever done--without simply bursting out laughing.  I know it was me that I was watching, but by two minutes into the video even I was laughing so hard I was almost crying.

Why?

I make everything look so freakin' hard.

All body parts activated and flailing.

Whether it was the "full body wall ball shot, using every muscle from tiptoes to fingertips" or the "kip and flail and thrash about until some part of your chest nicks the bar" C2B pullups, every movement was an epic, monumental task, full of strain and effort and force.  For those who might be saying "don't be so hard on yourself"--I'm not.  I'm actually impressed at the effort I appear to be putting out, even if 80% of it is wasted energy.  Just think how good I could be at stuff if I could stop using all those irrelevant muscles!

So anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed the videos (I went on to watch the dub WOD video), and they renewed my resolve to keep working at this stuff and getting better at it.  And to eat less hot fudge sundaes.

As for the Granite Games, I've got WOD #2 tomorrow, and then we have a make up session on Sunday where I can once more attempt the clean and jerk WOD (with a nice dose of Advil on board).  So really, even though today was somewhat of a Fail Day...it's all good.

Granite Games Masters Sectionals WOD 1: "WHAT to bar pullups?!"

The Granite Games Masters Sectional WOD 1, like WOD 3, was fairly straightforward:  a 10 minute AMRAP (As Many Reps As Possible) of 30 wall ball shots, and 7 chest to bar pullups.

Wait...what to bar?  I could barely get my chin above the bar two weeks ago in the Online Qualifier--and now you want me to get my chest to the bar?  Clearly, I was looking at a score of 30 for this WOD.  I figured I would complete my first 30 wall ball shots and then spend the balance of the 10 minutes flailing around like a beached crappie in desperate--and futile--kip attempts.

I did get some good advice for tackling the WOD, though.  At the end of this morning's WOD 3 session, as we all sat around sweating, Coach Pat--who is competing in the Masters Sectionals and had just put on a very impressive clean-and-jerk performance--delivered this sage advice.

"What you want to do for chest-to-bar pullups," he said, "is stuff your bra."

Um...

"Yeah, the less distance you have to go, the better.  At least a padded bra...or maybe two...."

Uh, all right, I'll take that into consideration...

That advice notwithstanding, I figured it would be a good idea to at least try a chest-to-bar before the WOD.  Just, you know, to confirm that I couldn't do it.  So I asked Coach Jason if he would watch my attempt and give me suggestions.

"Sure," he said, "but there are no magic tricks for this one." (He must not have heard of Coach Pat's idea.)  "You just have to get stronger."

Damn.  While I'm definitely getting stronger, clearly not enough of that was going to be happening in the half hour before my turn to tackle the WOD.  But I jumped up anyway and gave it a try.

Kip.  Pull.

Nope.  I had a good foot or so more to go to get my chest to the bar.

But then someone suggested I try an underhand ("chinup") grip. So I did.

Kip.  Pull.

And a nod and a "yup, that was one" from Coach Jason.

Holy carp, I actually did a chest-to-bar pullup!

And then, after a bit of a scuffle with the technology required to video two people doing the WOD--both of whom needed to be seen both at the wall ball wall and when hanging from the rig, and both of whom also needed to have a timer visible in the frame but the timer was on the wrong wall, necessitating a timer download onto my iPad--we were ready to go.

I've done "Rx" weight (not "scaling" by using a lighter weight) wall balls exactly once, and I remembered that it took a full body effort--including actually jumping--for me to get the ball over the nine foot line.  Wall ball shots require that you go into a full squat with each attempt; failing to squat below parallel, failing to hit the wall, or hitting the wall below the line all constitute the dreaded "no rep" and will not be counted.  (Jumping is optional.)

The first 10 wall ball shots went fine; in fact, I think I actually did 15 unbroken.  Then the wheels came off a bit and I had some issues: a couple "no rep" shots; several where I caught the ball low (instead of up in the "ready to go again" position) and had to reposition before I could throw again; a couple of overly-long pauses to breathe; and one of those fun throws where you don't quite catch the ball and get 14 pounds of vinyl-covered wall ball to the nose.

Feet off the ground.  I'm still in wall ball Hell while the guy doing

the WOD at the same time as I am has advanced to

chest-to-bar Hell.

And then all 30 wall ball shots were done and it was on to the pullups.

To cut to the chase...I did all seven of them.

True, it took quite a bit of time, some lengthy pauses between attempts, and several "no reps"--but I got through them all--once again demonstrating some truly, um, unique technique.

I seem to remember being told that one's feet should remain together and 

relatively still during a kip.  Oh, well...

No, his shirt is not exhorting you to do something lewd and 

biologically impossible; remember, some of the SISU shirts

say "unsuck yourself"

Then it was back to the wall balls.  Since I truly had not expected to be picking up the ball for a second set of 30, neither body nor brain were quite up to speed at the start of the second set.  Coach Jason, who was counting reps for me (and occasionally "no repping" with great vigor) told me to get 10 and then rest.  So, with a couple of pauses and a "no rep" or two, I struggled through the first 10 wall ball shots...and then dropped the ball and went to the pullup rig.

Oops.

Once I had been hauled back to the wall to finish the remaining 20 wall ball shots, things progressed slowly.  My forearms were pretty tired by this time, so catching the ball in the ready position and then dropping immediately into the squat for the next rep was becoming impossible.  I got a lot of "no reps" (I haven't watched the video yet, but an audible cuss word or two might have sneaked in there during some particularly frustrating attempts), but I finally finished the second set of 30 and went back to the rig.

That line is looking mighty far overhead at this point...

I made a couple more attempts at chest-to-bars, but despite kicking and flailing and using pretty much any muscles I had left (whether they should actually be involved in chest-to-bars or not), I was unable to get any more reps.  So I ended with a score of 67...and the very satisfying feeling of knowing that, once again, I had achieved something that just an hour ago I would have said was completely impossible.

Not bad for a Thursday evening.

Granite Games Masters Sectionals WOD 3--Jump!

If you're confused about where WODs 1 and 2 went, don't be.  All four WODs were released last night, and we have until Sunday at 7 pm to complete all four, in any order.  The SISU coaches chose to have us do WOD 3 first.  So there you have it.

Oh, also, the SISU coaches will now be known by their real names: Jason, Pat, Alye and Tyler.  These guys rock, both as coaches and as athletes, so I'm breaking with my usual tradition of not naming names because they deserve all the credit and recognition I can give them. Doing these Granite Games WODs has made me acutely aware of how far I've come in 11 months of CrossFit, and the SISU coaches are to thank for that.

The Granite Games Masters Sectional WOD #3 can best be described in a single word:  JUMP!  (I apologize for the Van Halen earworm you older folks might now have).  It was a pretty straightforward WOD:  200 double unders (hereafter referred to as "dubs," because it saves me many keystrokes and let's face it, it just sounds cooler), followed by as many Box Over Burpees as could be completed in what remained of the six minute time cap.

For me, I was pretty sure this would be "none."

I can do dubs.  I can even, thanks to making consecutive dubs my SISU Challenge goal and really wanting to avoid the 100 Burpee penalty for failure, do consecutive dubs.  Sometimes. While I can sometimes string together 10-15 dubs, there are other times when I can make 5-10 fruitless attempts in a row to get even one.  In fact, of all the WODs I've ever done, those containing rope jumps--singles or dubs--have consistently been the most spirit-crushing (as opposed to body-crushing).  Whether it was the time I DNF'd "Angry Annie" or the time I had to do 600 singles as a scale for not being proficient at dubs and, despite stringing together a record 100 unbroken singles, still managed to be working on finishing the final 25 jumps seven minutes into the next class--jumping WOD's consistently get my vote as "most likely to cause me to break the "there's no crying in CrossFit" rule.

Unfortunately, a "spirit crushing" WOD was not exactly what I was looking for this morning, since my spirit was a little frayed around the edges anyway (non-CrossFit "life stuff" in the form of parental health issues). But when Coaches Alye and Pat arrived to take a crack at Sectionals WOD 4--a heavy clean and jerk combo--and Coach Jason asked me if I wanted to try that one as well, I realized that dubs were probably the easiest thing to attempt given my current lack of aggression and positive mental attitude; it would take a lot more "head in the game" to clean and jerk 95 pounds than to jump over a rope.

So I jumped.

And it actually wasn't as bad as doing a jump WOD in class, because there was no one to compare myself with; no one to watch fling down their rope as they moved on to the next part of the WOD while I futilely tripped and stumbled my way to the end of the dubs or the end of the time cap, whichever came first.  And none of my fellow 50+ women had uploaded their scores yet, so I truly had no idea what to expect or what to shoot for.  All three coaches repeatedly exhorted me to "get through those 200 and get at least one Burpee,"  but I don't think it was just my low mood talking when I mentally (I know better than to say these things out loud!) responded "yeah, in my dreams."

And in the end, I was right.  In the end, there were six minutes of takeoffs...

and air time...

and rope untangling...

and catching my breath.

I'm pretty sure that just doing 8-10 consecutive dubs should not be this exhausting, but in my usual indiscriminate physical style of throwing every conceivable body part at an exercise, I'm quite sure I was consistently clenching a whole lot of things that didn't need to be clenched in order to clear the rope.  Coach TieGuy used to remind me frequently to "RELAX!"  when I was skating (yes, usually in all caps and with at least one exclamation point), and when Coach Jason reminded me of the same thing mid-WOD it did help; I'm pretty sure I waste a whole lot of energy being tense.  All force no grace, you know.

At the end, I completed 113 dubs.  When the timer rang I flung down my rope and, in best CrossFit tradition, dove for the floor to assume the "Post-WOD Dead Possum" posture.

Since we have to do video submissions of our WODs, and I had no one to take pictures, these shots are "still captures" from the video--so I was fortunate to be able to achieve my collapse mostly out of range of the stationary iPad that was filming...

...until, in a scene reminiscent of "The Wizard of Oz" witch-under-the-house shot (except with better shoes), all that remained visible was my feet and the rope.

And there we shall leave me until the next WOD...which will happen tonight, eight hours after the first WOD.

I can't wait!

I'm Not Worthy

At the end of the 2006-2007 long track skating season, at the Masters World Allrounds in Calgary, I skated a Personal Best 3K--4:57.57, my first sub-5:00 3K.  Shortly after that PB, I realized that the qualifying time to skate the US National Championships--the same event that, every four years, becomes the long track Olympic Trials--was just five seconds faster than that, at 4:52.  So--holding my breath to see whether he'd laugh--I mentioned to Coach TieGuy that perhaps my goal for the 2007-2008 season should be to skate the US Championships.  When he didn't laugh but said he thought it was doable, I spent all spring and summer of 2007 training to make the qualifying time.  I flew to Calgary in August (after not having skated long track ice for over five months) to attempt to make the time. I had two shots at it.  My first 3K was too slow by one second; in my second attempt, a day later, I made the qualifying time by .72 seconds.

So I happily called home and told hubby and sister and parents and coach that I'd made the qualifying time and would be skating the US Championships in Salt Lake City come late December.

And then I promptly started freaking out.

This was The US Championships.  Olympians would be skating, as would the National Team. Sure, there would be others like me; those too young or too old or just plain too slow to be competitive, those for whom the thrill was just being there.  So I wouldn't be the only one who had barely made the qualifying time and who was clearly not in contention for anything except avoiding last place--but I still couldn't shake a very pervasive and persistent feeling of "I'm not worthy."

There is, of course, a reason I bring this up.

Yesterday, in my inbox, I got an official invitation to the Granite Games Masters Sectionals (for those of you who haven't been keeping up, it's a CrossFit competition).  It came as no surprise; I knew that the top 25 women in the Masters 50+ category would be invited to compete in the Sectionals once the Online Qualifier was done, and since there were only 18 women actually signed up in the 50+ category, it didn't take a lot of brain power to realize that I'd be invited.  So I expected the email.

What I didn't expect, when I began the online process of accepting the invitation, was the immediate resurgence of the "I'm not worthy" feeling.

Not feeling particularly worthy here, either...

True, I hadn't finished last of the 18 (I ended up tied for tenth).  And I had surprised myself a few times in the Qualifier workouts, most notably with the clean and jerks and the pullups.  Still, I couldn't--and can't--shake the feeling that I'm really not good enough to be doing the Sectionals and, with any luck, possibly going on to the Granite Games.  I mean, those are for people (like the two SISU coaches and three other SISU athletes who qualified for Sectionals) who can actually do this stuff--and do it well.

Me?  I certainly, quite often, don't feel I like I can actually do this stuff, and in fact I still often have days where I feel that I, in some ways, suck at CrossFit.  True, there are moments like the one this morning when I realized, at the end of the WOD, that I had just done 54 power snatches at 70 lbs--which was my one rep max just two weeks ago.  Unfortunately, these moments are nicely balanced by times like 10 minutes earlier than the snatches this morning, when I proved to myself yet again that I am completely incapable of doing a handstand pushup.

Despite my continued lack of ability to perform some of the standard CrossFit movements, I'm not worried about embarrassing myself.  That would only happen if I didn't do my best; if I did the WOD's half-assed.  And that won't happen--believe me, I've worked too hard on this ass to only use half of it! (Yes, that's a "skater butt" joke.  I believe I'm entitled to make them now and then.)  I'm just afraid that my best effort will be, well, somewhat out of place with everyone else's best efforts.

So now is a really good time to remind myself of how my 2007 US Long Track Championships went.  Yes, I went to the meet, and the Hubster and Coach TieGuy went with me.

Coach TieGuy explains something to me, post-race

 I wasn't last and I skated PB's (Personal Bests) in 4 of the 5 distances.  And now, almost seven years later, that meet remains one of my best memories from all of the skating events I've done.  My friend Andrew made a video of the meet, and although I've posted the link to it before it's worth repeating...2007 USA Long Track Allaround Championships.  Yes, the guy in the tie is, of course, Coach TieGuy, and when you see him, towards the end of the video, skating backwards (in full suit and tie) and apparently exhorting a rather stiff, upright skater in black and blue to "for God's sake, glide," well, I am, of course, the skater in blue.  And although I cringe a bit every time I see that video because my technique is so bad, so out of place...I also, every time I hear the opening notes of Andrew's chosen soundtrack, "Sweet Child O' Mine,"  can't help but pause for a moment, and smile, and relive a bit of that weekend again...and be very grateful that I didn't let my feelings of unworthiness stand in the way of my having one of the coolest experiences of my athletic life.

So this weekend, when I tackle the four Sectionals WODs, don't be surprised--especially if the WOD contains an "I can't do it" movement like Toes 2 Bar or Handstand Pushups--to see me hum a few bars of "Sweet Child O' Mine" before I chalk up, approach the bar and, for better or for worse, give the WOD my best whole-assed effort.

Granite Games Online Qualifier 14.3

I went to a concert a couple weeks ago with a good friend (3 Doors Down, and it was quite good.)  Midway through the music, the lead singer was talking about a new album they were working on (do they still call them albums, or have I just dated myself?).  Anyway, he was saying that he was having a hard time writing the songs, and his wife had suggested that perhaps he was too happy to write.

Well, I've heard other musicians say that, and authors too--there's just a lot more to say when things are going poorly (although Pharrell may disagree).  And in my case, there's a lot more to amuse others when things are going not-so-great, as they did in the Great Pullup Debacle of 14.2

Granite Games Online Qualifier 14.3?  I got nothin'--it went great!

However, I'm never one to make a long story short, so here's a brief recap of the uneventfulness that was 14.3.

For 14.3, I would not be able to attend Friday Night Lights as I had for the other two qualifiers; I needed to do the 6:30 am Friday class so I could head out on a long weekend vacation with the Hubster's family at 9 am.  Consequently, I have no pictures of 14.3--we were all busy either doing the WOD or judging each other.  But anyway, there wouldn't have been much to see, just deadlifts and Burpees.

Lots of deadlifts and Burpees.

Actually, when I saw what 14.3 consisted of I was happy, because deadlifts (even 155 pound ones, as in 14.3) and Burpees are things I can do.  I may not do them fast, but I have no doubt that I can do them.  So 14.3 made me happy.  14.3 was: 12 155 pound deadlifts, 12 bar facing Burpees, then 10, 8, 6, 4, 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 of each.  It was a 9 minute AMRAP, and CoachBoy 3 warned us that it should be a "redline, all-out sprint."

Well, I can do 155 pound deadlifts, but since that weight is about 85% of my current One Rep Max, I was pretty sure there would be no "sprinting" involved, at least in the deadlift part.  I wanted to go slowly and carefully to be sure I did each lift correctly so I didn't hurt myself, but even if I'd wanted to go quickly, the weight would have precluded that.  As for Burpees, well, I tend to do "old lady Burpees," where I walk my feet out and back in rather than jumping them; it's just easier on my weak shoulders.  So my Burpees don't happen terribly quickly either (remember how my sister kicked my butt in my 100 Birthday Burpees last fall?).  I figured, given all this, that I'd be lucky to hit 50--25 deadlifts and 25 Burpees.

Well, to cut to the chase--the workout went great, I ended up with a score of 92, and I was very happy with the results.

And there's really not much more to say about 14.3, because it was a success.  Sometimes it's nice not to have so much to write about...

Friday Night Lights, Part Deux

Or as the Hubster likes to say, "Part Duh."

Which, given how things went, might be more appropriate.

After my thrilling clean and jerk PR at Friday Night Lights, Part One I was both excited and nervous to see what the WOD would be for Part Two (officially known as Granite Games Online Qualifier 14.2). Excited because 14.1 had been so much fun; nervous because I knew I had dodged a bullet with the first WOD in that it hadn't contained any moves I couldn't do--but I also knew that there were plenty of those moves out there, and odds were pretty good that 14.2 would contain at least one movement that would  be akin to asking me to flap my arms really hard and fly.

So at 7:01 on Wednesday night, exactly one minute after 14.2 was posted (What?  I waited a full minute.  Patience may be a virtue but it's often not one of mine), I excused myself to the friend I was dining with, pulled out my phone, and looked up the WOD.  

And promptly swore.

Here is the WOD:
16 min cap to complete as many reps as possible

50 cal row

20 pull ups

40 back squats (135/95)

20 pull ups

30 front squats (115/75)

20 pull ups

20 over head squats (95/65)

20 pull ups

The second weight is the one the women use.

The swearing was for the pullups.

I can do pullups.  At least, I could before my shoulder injury.  Yup, I've done about five "strict" pullups.

Over the past four months.

I was pretty sure the 16 minute time cap would not be sufficient for 20 pullups.

So I really had only one choice: I needed to learn to do kipping pullups--in 48 hours or less.

For those not into CrossFit, "kipping pullups" are: a) pullups in which you use a swing of your body to gain momentum to help you get over the bar; and b) one of the most-frequently-ripped-on aspects of CrossFit by those who don't do it.  I had avoided kipping pullups not because other people don't think they're "legitimate" pullups, but because I've heard that they're hard on your shoulders and I've had minor rotator cuff tears in both shoulders in the past five years.  No sense aggravating old injuries, so I've spent all my pullup energy doing "strict" (no kipping) pullups with big rubber bands for assistance.  And the wisdom of my avoidance of kipping was confirmed when I spent an overenthusiastic half-hour practicing toes-to-bar--which also necessitates a kip for most people--and thus incurred my current bicep tendon/shoulder injury.

But now, clearly, it was time to kip.  Or at least to try.  I've had some very good instruction in kipping (the SISU coaches know their stuff), but I've done just enough of it to know that it falls into the (large) category of "things I shall suck at," because it relies on precise timing and body control to translate the momentum from the swing into vertical progress.

"Precise timing" and "body control" are not physical gifts I happen to posses.

Still, I had no option but to try, so I figured I'd attempt a kip or two after the WOD on Thursday morning (by the way, summer has officially started for me, and getting up at 5 am to go to CrossFit is much more enjoyable than getting up at 5 am to go to work).  Unfortunately Thursday's WOD fell squarely into the "things I suck at" category--double unders and wall balls.  Actually I'm usually OK with wall balls but I was attempting the RX weight (14 pounds) for the first time, and it was a struggle. By the time I finished the WOD--ten minutes after the "time cap" expired, 12 minutes after the last other class participant finished (and it was his first official CrossFit class), and about 30 expletives after most decent people would have stopped cussing--I was not exactly in the mood to spend a lot of time futilely attempting to master yet another thing I sucked at.

To my surprise, though, when I tried my first kipping pullup--it worked.  Chest forward, chest back, chin over bar.  Hmm, what's so hard about that?

Just to be sure, I tried two more--and they were also successful.

Or so I thought.

(That right there is what we in the literary world call "foreshadowing."  Remember that.)

So.  On to the next aspect of 14.2 to freak about.  That would be the "40 back squats at 95 pounds."  Yes, I can do back squats at 95 pounds.  What I was pretty sure I can't do is get 95 pounds up over my head and then down into the back rack position.  Remember Friday Night Lights Part One? Yeah, I barely got the 95 overhead--lowering it onto my back with any semblance of control was looking like an impossibility, and a dangerous one at that.  I had visions of dropping the bar on my head, or on my neck, or possibly even both (have I mentioned that I have an overactive Disaster Gland?).

I figured that the only way I would be able to give full effort to getting the 95 pounds into place, without wimping out and bailing early because of fear of hurting myself, was to have a spotter.  So my first action upon arriving at Friday Night Lights Part Two (after confirming with a coach that I could have a spotter as long as he didn't help me get the bar into place) was to find someone willing to grab the bar for me before I dropped it on my head.  Fortunately BigStrongGuy said he'd be happy to do it...so bring on 14.2!

The first part of the WOD, the row, went fine.  I like rowing and I think I'm actually decent at it (for my age, anyway).  I don't like rowing for calories rather than distance because then I don't have a pace to focus on and to use to kick my butt back into gear when I start slacking, but it was still an easy start to the WOD for me.

Which did not, unfortunately, preclude my making many extremely unattractive "faces of effort."

This lovely expression is brought to you by the "sip and blow,"

a breathing technique I need to use to combat my 

vocal cord dysfunction when I exercise.  Good thing the picture is a bit fuzzy, huh?

So...on to the pullups!  I had an official judge, JudgeGirl, and an unofficial judge in BigStrongGuy, who was hovering in readiness for his spotting job pre-back squats.  After confirming that my judges were ready, I confidently approached the bar, 

jumped up and grabbed it, kipped,

I'm pretty sure there's a whole lot wrong with this "kip."

 pulled up, and dropped back to the ground.

And saw both my judges give me a headshake and a "no rep."

What the...?

So I tried again.  Twice.  And got two more sad headshakes and "no reps."

Turns out that, when you have poor body awareness, you should not depend on your own judgement as to whether or not your chin has cleared the bar. Apparently my "successful" kipping pullups on Thursday morning had actually been "no reps."

So I took a step back, regrouped, jumped up and grabbed the bar again and put everything I had into the kip--and this time got a nod from the judges.

And so it went for the next 12 minutes.  No rep, no rep, yes.  No rep, yes, no rep. There were a few occasions where my judges disagreed (apparently inter rater reliability is not high in judging pullups)--JudgeGirl would shake her head just as BigStrongGuy gave me the nod.

I chose to go with BigStrongGuy's opinion.

As the minutes ticked by and the completed pullups slowly increased, my technique deteriorated at high speed.  BigStrongGuy gave me some advice that got me back on track for a couple reps, and then I fell apart again.  I tried some advice given to me immediately pre-WOD by SuperStrongGirl, but was unable to execute that effectively either.  I'm pretty confident in stating that most of my WOD was a stunning visual display of The Many Ways Not To Kip.

There's the Knee Lift...

The Frog Kick...

And the "I'm Trying to Jump But There's Nothing Under My Feet."

By this time, my approach to the bar had segued from "confident" to "dejected."  

The completed reps were accumulating...but much more slowly than the time was expiring.

And then, about halfway through the 16 minutes, a new glitch appeared.  Mid-kip, I felt a sizeable chunk of flesh get ripped violently from my palm.  I'd seen other CrossFitter's hands post-pullup WOD's, but since I never kipped I had never experienced the sensation of one's well-chalked skin adhering to the rough-textured bar--while the rest of one's palm rotated.

Nice.

I completed the pullup, dropped to the ground, and inspected my palm--then ripped off the 1/2 inch chunk of skin that was dangling, flung it on the floor, and then jumped back up to try again. (OK, I might have sworn when I ripped off the skin.  Just a teeny bit).

And so the WOD continued.  Rep.  No rep.  Rip and fling skin.  No rep.  Rep.  At the end of the 16 minutes I had 16 completed pullups, at least 6 chunks of skin littering the ground near my pullup station, and the knowledge that, although I hadn't gotten very far, I had at least given it all my effort, all my strength...and at least a square inch of skin off of each palm.  I guess you can't ask for more than that, huh?

So then I picked all my bits of epidermal biohazard off the floor and then had someone take a picture of the palm carnage.

I know this is a shocking picture for those who know me well, 

but you need to know the truth about my CrossFitting:

Sometimes I wear pink.  A lot of pink.

And then I wandered off to sample protein shakes and watch the good CrossFitters complete their WOD's.  (I think the top woman that night got 211 reps, to my 66.)  Despite my less-than-stellar performance it was definitely a fun night, and I'm glad I did it, and I won't forget it for a long time.

My hands will see to that.

Joey Does Paleo

This has been a big weekend for me, athletically speaking; the Friday Night Lights CrossFit competition segued (after a perimenopausal-insomnia-filled night of about three hours of sleep) right into Saturday's inline skating clinic led by World Champion inliner and 2014 Long Track Olympian Joey Mantia.

The clinic with Joey was the result of a lot of work by local one-man inline skating enthusiast/promoter Chris.  Chris was formerly known as "Ole Skater" here at LongTrackLife, but he contributes so much to the local inline scene that he needs to be known by his real name.  He's taken on running the Wednesday night Summer Inline Series; he sends out weekly emails about upcoming trail skates and other inline events; he's the man behind Project Skatelove; and he singlehandedly brought us the clinic with Joey.  So from me and all the other Minnesota inliners: Thanks, Chris!

Back to the clinic.  Chris, being the thorough guy that he is, had set up a rain venue in case the oval was too wet to skate--which turned out to be a good thing, since it pretty much poured all day Saturday.  So I got my first experience with indoor inlining, in an elementary school gym.  It actually worked out fairly well (and of course I'm completely comfortable in elementary school gyms, and it was nice to be in one without being responsible for anyone's behavior except my own), except that the small size pretty much precluded anything but drills; no straightaway skating practice or paceline work, and we couldn't even really do corners.  But there was still plenty for us to work on, so it turned out fine.

We spent quite a bit of time on off-skates drills.  Joey was very good about going around and giving everyone individual comments about their technique; I was pleased that he didn't have to give me more than a couple suggestions (Coach TieGuy had spent a lot of time, in the five years he coached me, drilling me on dryland basics, so it was nice to see that most of it had stuck).  Here's Joey, checking out my knee-nose-toe lineup.

You can't really see them here, but Joey is known for his epic quads.

After the dryland, we did a lot of on-skate drills; again, these felt fairly familiar and comfortable to me, although it was also clear to me that I don't do these nearly enough--my knees weren't nearly as stable as they should be.  I found it interesting how much time Joey said the long track national team devotes to such drills--it's a lot.  I've never spent much time on on-skate drills for a variety of reasons; sadly, the main reason is simply that they're not as much fun as actual skating and I've always been guilty of only doing the stuff I enjoy. The clinic not only gave me some good drills to do, though, it also gave me a little push to perhaps devote more time to them.  Hmm, maybe a weekly open short track skate drill session (short track is only good for drills, as far as I'm concerned; too scary to go at speed and actually try to do a workout) will be in order once school gets out.

After lunch and some more off-skate drills, we got down to the real entertainment: working on double-push skills.  Double-push is a techique unique to inine skating; you can't do it on ice.  It requires setting your skate down on an outside edge, then pushing the skate to the inside, under and past the center of your body, rather than pushing out away from the body.  Once the "under push" is completed you roll to your inner edge and do a standard outward push; hence "double push."  It looks something like this:

See how far under his body his right foot is?  That's the under push.

Well, double push is simply not in my repertoire.  Not that I haven't worked on it; I have, back in 2005 at another inline clinic.  The end result of that effort was a lifetime, two-country ban on ever trying to double push again (the clinic coach was Canadian; I think he wanted to ensure that I wouldn't sully the fair trails and streets of his native country with my flailing attempts at double pushing).  Actually, what he actually said upon observing my double push efforts was "Well, you've got the basic idea, sort of.  But the band is playing a Barry White song and you're out there on the dance floor doing the robot.  I think it's best if you never try to double push again."  I'm no dancer, but I got his meaning--just a fancier way of echoing Coach TieGuy's statement that I'm "all force, no grace."  And I had to agree with him that it didn't seem that the double push was something I'd likely be successful with.  Which I was fine with; I really use inline skating as training for long track ice, so I try to replicate long track technique on my inlines as much as possible.  In that context, double push doesn't matter.

But yesterday we did double push drills (and anything that improves my ability to control my skates is a good thing, whether or not I need to perfect the actual skill we're working on), so I did double push drills.  Or at least, I tried.  However, I've spent the last 15 years of learning to speedskate focusing on pushing away from my body. There was simply no way my limited motor planning skills were going to allow either foot to push under my body.  So the drills were a (no doubt entertaining) exercise in futility...until I remembered Coach TieGuy's "drunk skating" drill.  Drunk skating is simply executing a series of alternating crossover strokes down a straightaway--and it requires somewhat of an under push.  So I started drunk skating, and by reducing and finally eliminating the actual cross-over, I was eventually able to do a very tiny semblance of an underpush.  Success!  But I was very glad that we ran out of time at that point and had to stop our double push efforts...I like to quit while I'm ahead.

The last part of the clinic was the Q & A session with Joey, and I found this extremely interesting.  Along with the usual questions about skating technique and Joey's Olympic long track experience came one that was right up my ally: what, someone wanted to know, did Joey eat?

The answer?  Paleo.

Actually, Joey's answer was that he used to do Paleo, and he tried to do Paleo (based on the book The Paleo Diet for Athletes, which I have and have read multiple times).  He said that he's never felt better or performed better than when he was eating Paleo--but that it was simply too hard to consistently eat that strictly.

Well, I was dying to know more.  What was his version of Paleo?  How strict was "strict?"  What did he find hard about it?  Did he eat "Paleo substitutes" for things like pancakes and muffins, or was he a "meat fruit veggies eggs nuts only" guy? But I was pretty sure that the other 29 clinic participants wouldn't have nearly as much interest in this topic as I did, so I (uncharacteristically) held my tongue.  Still, I thought it was cool, and very validating of the soundness of eating Paleo as an athlete, that a top-level competitor in the sport that I love (oops, sorry CrossFit...one of the sports that I love) wholeheartedly endorsed a Paleo diet as a way of enhancing performance.  As I sit here typing this, very full from a breakfast of Paleo pancakes with raspberry-blueberry-rhubarb sauce and pure maple syrup, with a side of bacon--this makes me extremely happy.

And then it was time for a group photo...

Trust me, I'm in there somewhere!

...and autographed photos of Joey and his iconic quads...

So a fun day, complete with a lot of good information, a gentle reminder that drills aren't just for beginners, and a confirmation that Paleo is, indeed, the Holy Grail of diets.  What more could I ask for?

Friday Night Lights

CrossFit SISU, ready for Friday Night Lights

Granite Games Online Qualifier 14.1...my first ever CrossFit competition.  It was an epic night of anxiety, sweat, effort, a bit of pain...and a whole lot of fun and celebration.

The Granite Games is (are?) a CrossFit competition that will be held in St. Cloud MN in September.  Apparently Granite Games 2013 was wildly popular; so popular that the spots in some divisions sold out within minutes of registration opening.  So this year the Granite Games feature an online qualifier, similar to the CrossFit Open.  Three workouts will be posted, one each week for the first three weeks of June.  Athletes complete the WODs in their home boxes and submit their scores online. CrossFit SISU encouraged all its athletes, of any level (or age) to sign up--so I did.  And I was happy to see that there was even a class for me...50+.  Although I have no illusions about doing well, even in the appropriate age category; there are, as CoachBoy 3 commented, "a lot of tough old broads out there."  Still, I figured it would be more fun to do the WODs "officially," instead of just informally, as I did a couple of the Open WODs earlier this spring.  So I signed up, and then I waited.

CrossFit SISU had decided to set up a Friday evening opportunity for its athletes to complete the weekly WOD, to socialize, and to cheer each other on: "Friday Night Lights."  So this week I was anxiously awaiting Friday evening and, just as importantly, the release of the WOD Wednesday night.  Because I knew darn well that there was a good chance that I'd be facing a WOD that was set up in such a way that I couldn't even complete one rep.  Sure, I've got a list of movements that I can do with no problem--wall balls, rowing, box jumps, kettle bell swings, Burpees, situps.  There's another list of things that I can do but where I may not be able to complete the reps if the weight is too high: cleans, jerks, squats, deadlifts, and snatches come to mind.  Then there is the list of "things I can't or shouldn't do because of my bicep tendon irritation," including pushups and pullups.  And finally there's the list of "you've got to be kidding" movements, which includes toes to bar, ring dips, handstand pushups, muscle ups, and probably a few other things I'm forgetting at the moment.  Combining all of those lists, there were a whole lot of ways I could start and finish a WOD without ever completing one rep.

So I was delighted, when the WOD was released on Wednesday, to see that consisted of a 12 minute AMRAP (As Many Reps As Possible) of one movement from my "can do if it's not too heavy" category: squat clean to overhead.  The WOD started at 65 pounds, a weight I knew I could clean and get overhead, and as a bonus, two of my recent personal training sessions with CoachBoy 3 had focused on cleans and split jerks, so I felt reasonably confident that I had a basic understanding of what I needed to do.

So the first part of the WOD, the 15 squat cleans to overhead at 65 pounds, was looking doable.  It was the second part that was causing some anxiety--the "15 squat cleans to overhead at 95 pounds."

The WOD allowed athletes to do either a power clean or a squat clean; if they chose a power clean they then had to do a front squat with the weight. They then had to get the weight overhead in any way they chose--push press, push jerk, split jerk, whatever. Thanks to a front squat WOD and a clean WOD earlier in the week, I knew I could clean 95 pounds to "front rack" position and then front squat it...but I'd never gotten more than 70 pounds overhead by any method--and because of my bicep tendon, I hadn't even attempted any overhead lifts in the past two months.

95 pounds was looking daunting.

Still, I figured that even if I only completed the 15 reps at 65 pounds and then spent the rest of my 12 minutes in a futile attempt to get the 95 overhead, that was a good deal better than getting a "0" on a WOD. (Oh, yeah...after the 15 at 95 pounds the WOD went on to 15 at 135--which might as well have been 200 pounds--and then a couple other weights so ridiculously high that I don't even remember them.   As far as I was concerned, the WOD ended at "15 at 95.")

So I arrived at Friday Night Lights cautiously optimistic and also a little anxious...what if I forgot how to clean?  Or split jerk?  Or for some reason couldn't even get the 65 pounds overhead?  After all, I hadn't put anything heavier than the 35 pound bar overhead in a couple months (well, I had done some snatches at 55 pounds, but I have no idea how that correlates with doing jerks.)

I quickly relieved my anxiety by doing a short running-and-mobility warmup and then loading one of the bars in the warmup area with 65 pounds, which I then cleaned, squatted, and pressed overhead.  Whew...first hurdle cleared--I could indeed still get 65 pounds overhead.  So then I could relax and watch the first heat of athletes complete the WOD.

Which, of course, brought back my anxiety because, well...they all looked so competent.  So strong.  So...as though they knew exactly what they were doing.  None of which adjectives, I was afraid, would be used to describe me when I completed my WOD in the second heat.

But I didn't have long to be anxious--a 12-minute AMRAP is, after all, only 12 minutes long, and soon (after a quick scramble to find someone to judge me--thanks Amy!) it was my turn.  As I waited by my bar for the start of my heat, a male competitor sidled past me and picked up the 45 pound plate that had been placed near my bar for the 135 pound reps.  He gave me a sheepish look as he walked away with the plates, saying "CoachBoy 3 said you won't be needing these."  Perceptive fellow, that CoachBoy 3.  And then the countdown started, and I was on.  So I started on the 65 pound reps, power cleaning and then squatting them because that seemed to come more naturally than squat cleaning them, and then getting the weight overhead with (if I remember correctly) either a push press or a push jerk.  Two minutes and thirty seconds later, the 65's were done and it was on to the 95's (note to self: when there is a 15 pound plate on each end of the bar, and a 15 pound plate waiting by each end of the bar, changing the weight on each end of the bar from 15 to 30 pounds only involves adding, not removing, any plates.  Nice time-waster there!)

I cleaned the 95 pounds, then squatted it...and then no-repped the jerk.  Damn.  Oh, well...this is what I expected.  Hmmm, I have another 9 minutes or so of no-reps to get through...better get going on that. Before I attempted the next clean, though, I heard CoachBoy 3 yell "get under the bar!"  Oh, yeah, that's right...I need to get under the weight rather than using force to push it overhead (I tend to forget things like that--there's a reason my speedskating coach used to call me "all force, no grace.")

So approached the bar again...

...cleaned the weight and then squatted it...

...and then psyched myself up for the split jerk attempt.

Hmm, I see that the goofy "biting my lip" expression that I typically assume

 during speedskating starts now has some competition.

And then this happened...

...and then this.

This particular goofy expression is the beginning of a very big smile.

And then I flung down the bar and indulged in what was likely an extremely inappropriate celebration--I say "inappropriate" because I didn't see any other athletes high-fiving their judges, jumping around with loud exclamations of happy profanity (the F-bomb isn't just for when you're mad, you know), and squealing--yes, I think I might have even squealed.

It was a very happy moment.

I went on to complete 6 more reps with the 95 pounds, as well as several no-reps.  By the end my wrists hurt (they look a little floppy in that last picture, and that was only the first 95-pound rep) and I was definitely tired and sweaty.  Oh, and my face hurt from smiling, because every time I got that 95 pounds up overhead I couldn't help grinning (and occasionally uttering another loud profane exclamation of delight).

Friday Night Lights, and my first online CrossFit competition, was--regardless of how the scoring turns out-- a huge success.

And now I have Friday Night Lights #2 to look forward to--assuming, of course, that the WOD doesn't feature items from my "can't yet do" list.  Oh, yeah...and there's this "real"--as in "not online"--CrossFit competition in Mankato in mid-July...and it has a "recreational" category for people like me with long "can't yet do" lists...and there's nothing currently on the Hubster's and my activity calendar for that weekend...