So Here's the Scoop...

I know it's been a few days since I updated, after I left you with pictures of a bloody knee and a report of a not-so-good MRI result.  I would have been back sooner but I've been busy trying to sit without using my right butt or leg; prepping my classroom for the start of school Tuesday; dressing my oozing (sorry) roadrash; meeting with the orthopedic surgeon, going to a pre-op doctor appointment, and dealing with all the scheduling stuff necessary pre-surgery.

Because yes, I need surgery.

Apparently my lateral hamstring tendon is completely torn off the bone, and the medial one is partially torn.  The only way to fix this is, well, to fix it.  Put a couple screws in my pelvic bone, suture the tendon to that, and wait for it to grow back into place.  Which, now that I think about it, means that I truly will have "buns of steel" forevermore.  Or at least, two tiny spots of steel somewhere in the right butt region.  Whatever.  So on Tuesday, instead of heading into my classroom for the first day of school, I'll be heading to the hospital to get things put back where they belong.

I'm trying to keep things in perspective (and I've had some really nice supportive thoughts from skating friends who have been there--thank you!), but it's a little tough right now.  Having to miss the Granite Games is, honestly, the most disappointing thing I can ever remember happening--not the worst thing, just the most disappointing in a massive "damn my birthday party got rained on" sort of way.  To make matters worse, the GG are now so close that my Facebook is continually cluttered with GG updates and ads and articles...way to twist the knife, guys!

In addition to the Granite Games issue, the thing I'm struggling with the most is that my usual modus operandi is "fast and sloppy" (I say that proudly; I inherited it from my dad, who has always gotten more done than 10 "careful" people.)  I walk fast, I talk fast, I think fast, I move fast (uh, no, Officer, I don't drive fast.  Huh uh.).   Sure, things get dropped or broken or tripped over (no, that's not how I crashed!) or completed somewhat half-assedly--but that's how I do things and, like my dad, I think I get a lot done.

Or, that's how I used to do things.  Now I creep around like Tim Conway in a Carol Burnett skit (I know, I know...I just lost all the young 'uns.  Google it) and it takes me forever to get into or out of a chair, get up or down the stairs, or walk somewhere.  And when I do walk somewhere, while it's not too terribly painful (apparently detached muscles don't hurt too much), I tend--thanks to needing to keep my right leg straight and swing it wide on each step--to resemble a cowboy who's been in the saddle too long, or a baby who's been in the diaper too long.  Lovely.

Then there's the matter of driving.  I can't.  And while the Hubster Jim has been awesome about chaufferring me wherever I need to go...well, I'm always early and he's...usually not.  So that's a bit stressful.

Anyway, right now it's a waiting game.  No healing is happening so I can't even console myself by thinking "well, at least it's getting better every day"--because it's not. Not until that tendon is dragged back into place (my, that sounds fun, doesn't it?).  I need to take advantage of this time, though, because I'm told that I should do as little as possible the first two weeks after surgery, to allow the tendon to start to heal back to the bone.  No going to work, limited moving around.  So this weekend I think I'll need to do some Paleo cooking, get a few good books and DVD's lined up, and make sure my recliner is set up with some foam padding.  It's already the only comfortable place to sit and, on a few long nights, sleep; I'm sure that after the surgery the recliner and I will be pretty much inseparable.

If you're looking for me in the next two weeks,

you know where to find me.

So that's the scoop, delivered (sorry) in somewhat whiney fashion.  Hopefully once my hamstring is put back into place my usual cheery optimism will follow...

This is NOT the Post I Wanted to be Writing Today

I could have written about a lot of things today:  it's the first day back to work for me (pre-school workshops) after my summer off; I had an amazing time last weekend celebrating the life and wonderful spirit of my Aunt Kristi; my Granite Games prep is going well and I even got my first ring dip yesterday; my injured calf is about 98% recovered and I was able to both run and jump rope yesterday for the first time since the injury 10 days ago.

Instead of writing about any of these things, though, I need to write about this:

I've soared to new heights in the "cover yourself

in neoprene" department.

Yes, those are my legs, my ace bandage, my immobilizer, my crutches.

"Damn" doesn't even begin to cover it.

After an aweome CrossFit WOD yesterday morning, in which I achieved the above-mentioned "first ever ring dip"--which is especially significant because I know the Masters class has to do ring dips in the Granite Games--I headed home and prepared for the second workout of the day, inline skating at the oval.  Since my calf injury had prevented me from skating in over two weeks, I planned an easy endurance skate to ease back into things: five sets of four laps at a nice moderate pace.

And it started off well.  I was delighted to be able to jog my usual warmup lap with only a tiny twinge from my calf.  Sets one through four of the workout went fine; decent lap times, technique felt pretty good, no complaints from the calf.

Then I started set five.

For set five I wanted to really focus on technique--the "fall,"  the "carve," the knee drive.  My whole goal in inlining is to build the right muscles for long track ice and to work on all of the technical aspects of long track that I struggle with, and endurance workouts in particular lend themselves to focusing on technique since the intensity is lower.

So as I completed the second lap of the four lap set I was thinking about what my skates were doing.  I hit the stopwatch to record my lap time and tried to get the proper long track technique down the straightaway.  Knee drive/set down left skate/push with right...compress that right leg in preparation for the carve and then the push...

...and then  WHAM.

I have no idea what happened.  No one was near me, no interference, no issues until I suddenly found myself heading for the concrete.  And this is where things went horribly wrong.

People fall on inline skates all the time.  The iconic "inline road rash" is a nice oval of skin removed from the outer calf/shin area.  That and a scraped elbow or knee bruise is all most people suffer when they bite it on their inlines.

But I had to be different.  As I fell--perhaps it was a subconscious attempt to spare my knee-padless knees, perhaps it was just the way I happened to fall--I stuck out my right leg, which then somehow came to a very abrupt stop.

Which my right hamstring was extremely unhappy with.

Damn, that hurt.

So I rolled around on the oval for a bit, clutching my hamstring and surveying my scraped and gouged left knee and shin.  Then I tried to stand up.

Holy mother of hamstring pain, Batman.  Standing up was clearly not going to be in my repertoire for quite some time.  Not only could I not bear any weight on my right leg, I couldn't even straighten it past about 90 degrees.

Somehow I managed to get my skates, helmet, wrist guards, and sunglasses off, and then surveyed my options.  There was no way I was getting from the center of the track back to the bleachers on my own, and the only people around were two teenage boys in the skate park.  Fortunately I had had no cause to yell at them for cutting across the track earlier--they had been very well-behaved--because now I needed them.

"Hey guys," I yelled.  They appeared startled to be thus summoned by the middle-aged lady rolling around on the track in the midst of a veritable yard sale of inline gear, but they came over, saw my bloody knee, and immediately offered to help.  It took the support of the two of them--and two stops for pain management--to cover the 50 feet from the track to the bleachers.  By the end of the trip I was apologizing to the boys for expanding their vocabularies.

"No problem," said one.  "We talk like that too."

Back on the bleachers, I surveyed the damage. My left leg was scuffed, but that wasn't the problem.

Just a flesh wound...

The problem, of course, was the right hammy.  The one that was causing more pain than I've felt since I crashed my dirt bike and smashed my knee 25 years ago.  The one that was not allowing me to straighten my leg or put any weight at all on it.

Fortunately the Hubster--oh hell, let's just call him Jim--fortunately Jim had driven me to the oval.  This happens about twice a year (because you know how I love my loud music and cold car pre-workout), so it was unbelievably good timing that yesterday was one of those days--because there is no way I could have driven.  Jim drove me to urgent care, and then (after an excruciatingly painful exam that sent pretty much every muscle in the back of my right leg into a massive cramp) on to the orthopedic walk-in clinic.  There, I got an x-ray, a knee immobilizer (which I couldn't wear unless I was lying down because otherwise it put too much strain on my hamstring) and the promise of an MRI the next day.

My right leg is not bent just to hold the clipboard of paperwork;

that's as straight as I can get it.  Without screaming, anyway.

And now it's the next day, post-MRI, and I'll cut to the chase: total rupture of the hamstring tendon, and a consult with an orthopedic doctor tomorrow to see if surgery is necessary.

Double damn.

Obviously I'm extremely unhappy about not being able to compete in the Granite Games--but I had an awesomely fun summer training for them, even if I now can't compete.  I'll wait until after the consult tomorrow to figure out what else the future holds, in terms of skating this winter, return to CrossFit, etc.  Right now my plan is to go to the Granite Games and cheer my lungs our for my SISU teammates, and then start training for the 2015 Granite Games qualifier as soon as I'm allowed back in the box.    On the bright side,  I should have plenty of time to get in shape for next year's Granite Games...and plenty of time for all my other more minor injuries to heal, as well.  So while it certainly could be better, it also could have been worse.  

At least, that's what I keep reminding myself...

New Ulm Action Shots

Fellow SISU-ite and New Ulm competitor Amy got some great action shots at the competition...thanks Amy!

Here I am in my important role as med-ball-clutcher:

C'mon, hurry up with those box jumps...this ball is getting heavy!

Snatches. Yes, I'm wearing tights; they were my first attempt at keeping my calf warm.  One hot flash and I vetoed those babies...

Good thing "bar completely level" is not

a required component of the lift

Here's Jessica hitting a ground-to-overhead (I think it's 105; she went on to get 110):

Nice job!

And here's me, getting my 105 jerk PR:

Bar cleaned, goofy expression in place.  I'm ready to try the jerk.

Uh, oh...I don't think this is going to end well...

(and yes, it does rather look as though I'm about to

fling my bar onto the unsuspecting woman in front of me)

Surprise--and delight!

Nothing better than a day filled with good people, hard work...and PR's.

New Ulm Summer Showdown: Badasses

The line between "badass" and "dumbass" can be very fine indeed.  As I limped to the car at five am yesterday to begin my drive to New Ulm for the Summer Showdown CrossFit competition, I sincerely hoped that with my decision to compete injured,  I'd end up on the right side of that line.

When I injured my calf practicing double unders on Wednesday, my first thought was "damn, what will I do about the competition?"  Because this time it wasn't just me competing; this time it was a team event and I really didn't want to bail on my teammate Jessica at the last minute.  Besides, I really wanted to do the competition, bad calf or no bad calf.

Thursday's CrossFit workout was somewhat reassuring; it seemed I could at least do lifts with no problem.  And then Friday I went to the chiropractor that I've been seeing for my shoulder, Dr. S.  Dr. S is also a CrossFitter at SISU, which is great because not only does he understand the physical requirements of the sport, but he speaks the language.  If I say "it hurts when I do passthroughs" or "I injured this kipping," he doesn't need me to translate that to English.

So I confessed my newest injury to Dr. S, who did some ultrasound, taped up my calf, and said I should be OK if I was careful.

I'm pretty sure this tape configuration is actually a Chinese character meaning

"are you sure you're not too old to be doing this stuff?"

And then I took another look at the WODs for the competition.  Jessica and I would be competing in the Scaled ("we've made everything easier for you because you're not very good at this yet") division.  Our WODs looked like this:

Not to worry; the "95" for women's scaled snatches is a typo; 

we only had to do 65 pounds.

It all looked calf-friendly except the box jumps and the rope jumps.  Jumping is what injured my calf in the first place; no way am I jumping again until it's 100% healed. But typically in team competitions the partners can split up the reps however they want, so I figured I'd just have poor Jessica do all the box jumps and single unders, and I should be able to do my part in all the other movements.

So the competition was a go.

Of course, after I decided that I would compete, we were given more information on the WODs.  It turned out that we both had to do all the rope jumps and squats.  Damn.  I could see only one option (besides bailing)--jump one-footed.  So I grabbed my rope, went out to the driveway, and gave it a try.  To my surprise I was able to do 20 unbroken "left foot only" jumps fairly easily; this was a bit of a shock because when I started CrossFit I could barely do 10 unbroken jumps with both feet.  So I decided that the competition was still a go, and I began the pre-event scramble.

The New Ulm event would require even more careful packing than usual.  In addition to the usual protein shakes, food, extra clothes, and miscellaneous items like cameras and thyroid medications, I now had to pack everything I might possibly require for "Calf Maintenance and Other Failing Body Parts Support."

I think I've got it covered.

After almost two hours of driving through Southern Minnesota summer fog, I arrived at the New Ulm Civic Center nicely refrigerated and slightly hoarse from singing--and, of course, early.  It wasn't long before my fellow SISU-ites began trickling in, though: teammate Jessica; Chris and Bobby, who were competing in Men's Scaled; Amy and Kim, competing in Women's Scaled; and Amanda and Deanna, who were braving the rigors of the Rx ("you're good enough to do this stuff the way it's supposed to be done") division.  We all wandered around a bit and then headed to the warmup area to set up camp on the floor, as we had at Mankato.  At this point Coaches Jason and Tyler arrived, and clearly this was not Coach Jason's first rodeo. He quickly commandeered an open corner of the bleachers area (the event was held in a dry hockey arena), grabbed a table and chairs, and hung the SISU banner from the balcony railing.  We had the best location in the house.

SISU camp.  That's the back of the SISU banner on the balcony--

and never underestimate the power of chairs to sit on

after you've done 150 air squats.

Then it was warmup time.  My usual "half mile run with mobility stuff mixed in," which serves me well pre-skating races and which I had adopted at Mankato as my official CrossFit competition warmup as well, was clearly not happening.  My calf doesn't allow normal walking at this point, let alone running, so I made do with some rowing (which also, surprisingly, hurt my calf a bit).  Then Jessica and I practiced our snatches and went over our strategy for the first WOD again before the first athlete briefing.

After the athlete briefing, I headed to the bathroom one more time before WOD one.  As I limped back across the arena to the warmup area, I was stopped by one of the event organizers, who I recognized from the Mankato competition.

"What'd you do to your knee?" he asked.

I told him that actually it was my calf and that I'd strained it a couple days ago jumping rope.

"Are you going to be able to do this?" he asked.

"I think so.  I'll just have to jump like this," I said, and I jumped on my left foot while twirling an imaginary rope.

"You're a badass," he grinned.

Well.  It's not often I get called a badass.  Smartass yes, badass no.  And although I wasn't feeling particularly badassed, clad as I was in my kinesio tape, neoprene calf sleeve, neoprene knee sleeve, and neoprene tennis elbow brace, still, I appreciated the comment.  

"Let's hope it's 'badass' and not 'dumbass'," I replied as I hobbled away.

In all my neoprene-clad splendor: tennis elbow brace, knee sleeve, and K-tape.

Just missing the neoprene calf sleeve.  Maybe I should just go with

a whole-body wetsuit next time...

So. WOD one.   3, 2, 1 GO.   The first movement, 30 box jumps, was no fun because I couldn't do any--no matter how hard you cheer for your teammate, you can't help feeling useless as you stand there watching them do all the work. Well, I guess I did have a job; in this WOD the complicating factor was that we had a med ball that the non-working teammate needed to hold.  Any dropping of the ball would be met with a penalty, so you can bet I took my job as med-ball-clutcher seriously. The snatches went well; for some reason snatches don't aggravate my elbow and shoulder the way cleans and jerks do, and I could do 10 unbroken touch-and-go snatches fairly easily before we switched.  Then on to the Burpees (I did a few, jumping on just my left leg, but Jessica did most of them), and then we finished with 15 med-ball situps each. Fun WOD.

Here we are, post-WOD one:

Why, yes, I am old enough to be her mother;

thanks for noticing.

As we wandered around between WODs, eating and watching our SISU teammates compete, I settled on my calf management strategy.  Coach Jason and Dr. S had both said to keep the calf warm between events, so after the WOD I put an air-activated heating pad on my calf and wrapped it on with an ace bandage.  Then, just before the next WOD, I'd swap the heating pad and ace bandage for a neoprene calf sleeve (over the K-tape) to keep the heat in.  Fun times...

WOD two was just as fun as WOD one: rowing for calories, followed by max ground-to-overhead lift for each teammate.  Coach Jason had suggested we row for about 3.5 of the seven minutes, then take the remainder of the time to get our max lifts.  The strategy worked perfectly; we hit our maximum lifts--110 for Jessica and 105 for me, which was a 10 pound jerk PR for me--with just enough time left that we both tried and failed the next weight right as time expired.  Success!

Then, finally, WOD three--rope jumps and squats.  I wasn't worried about the 150 squats we'd end up doing, but the jumping was a bit of a concern--I just hoped my left calf wouldn't get cranky about being required to do 150 jumps solo and decide to imitate my right calf.  And also, we had to run back and forth from the start mat to our jumping station, relay-race style, and running is not a possibility for me right now (it could have been worse, thought--the Rx division had to handstand walk back and forth from the start mat).

Surprisingly, though, it went well.  I managed to jump the 10 and 20 unbroken (although much slower than Jessica, of course), and only tripped once on each of the 40 and 50.  The 30 was my worst set; I think I tripped two or three times.  After the set of 40 squats my legs were tightening up, so as I watched Jessica do her set of 50 jumps and squats I marched in place on the start mat to the beat of what I believe was Eminem's "Cinderella Man." I'm quite sure I looked like a middle-aged neoprene-clad idiot, but what the heck, it kept my quads loose. By the time I was at the final (50) squat station, I was feeling pretty good about how the WOD had gone.  I was determined to do the 50 unbroken, and this determination increased when Jessica appeared next to me, counting down the seconds to the time cap.  Twenty seconds...seven squats left...yeah, I think I can do it.  I increased my tempo as I listened to my soft-spoken judge counting the reps, and when she hit "fifty" I finished my final squat, hobbled/galloped/limped my way down the mat and over the finish line, and then took a knee.  

After about ten seconds my judge wandered up and quietly said "You know you only did 40, right?"

Say...what?!

True, my bad for not counting my own reps, especially for something as easy to count as air squats.  But still, shouldn't judges...judge?  As in, when I start hobbling down the mat and I'm still 10 squats short of a full WOD, yell at me.  "Ten more!"  Or "You're not done!"  Or even "Yo, idiot!  Get your neoprene-clad butt back here!"  Anything to get me back to the squat zone.

I felt horrible about screwing up, of course.  I don't think it made too much difference because I probably only would have had time to squeeze in a few more squats before the time cap, but still.  I'm definitely on the "dumbass" side of the line on this one.

At the end of the day, we got to watch Amanda and Deanna and Coaches Jason and Tyler compete in the final event, which was reserved for the top six teams in each division.   Amanda and Deanna gave an impressive performance giving their all on the extremely difficult final WOD.  Here, D yells encouragement while Amanda picks up the bar for some challenging 95-pound thrusters....

and Amanda watches while D prepares to do a chest-to-bar pullup.

Badasses.

And then we watched Coaches Tyler and Jason do their final WOD.  Coach Jason demonstrated that if he ever decides to quit CrossFit and take up rowing he'll have plenty of teams that want him; and Coach Tyler put on a handstand walking clinic for the rest of the athletes--at one point he started his 50-foot walk ten feet behind the guy in the lane next to him and not only caught up to the other guy and passed him, but beat him to the finish line by more than ten feet.

Tyler watches as Jason completes a thruster...

Ignore the "shadow selfie" in the upper right hand corner;

I forgot about what happens when you take pictures

through plexiglas..

...and then picks up the bar for his turn.

Again...badasses.

At the end of the day, the SISU athletes all finished towards the bottom of our respective divisions...but the SISU coaches took third in Men's Rx.  Impressive.

Here are most of us, post-competition:

Bobby had left already, but that's the rest of us.

And then it was time for the drive home.  Although I had driven down solo, I had a companion for the trip home--one guaranteed to make the drive lively.

Yes, it's huge.  And re-sealable, which is nice;

that way when the heart palpitations start

you can close it up and save the rest for later.

Seems Chris (formerly known on Longtracklife as "BigStrongGuy") decided I needed a Monster to make the event complete--so he brought me one.  A big one.  This is why I love my SISU teammates...

Yeah, Chris is a good guy..just don't leave your camera

unattended around him...

So while I don't feel like I lived up to the title "badass" yesterday, I did manage to (mostly) avoid the "dumbass" end of the spectrum and to achieve all three of my goals for the day:  I didn't hurt myself; I didn't let my teammate down (too much); and I had a blast.

Can't ask for much more than that.

DL

As of about 2:40 yesterday, I'm on the Disabled List.

Sort of.

Yesterday was, of course, my Dub Bootcamp in the oval's mirrored multi-purpose room. After a fantastic, effortless, speedy (for me) mile warmup run on the track around the hockey rink, dub practice started out like this:

Neoprene knee brace because I have a bad knee,

neoprene elbow sleeves because I whip myself in the elbows, 

and dirt bike gloves because when I don't whip myself in the elbows

I whip myself in the knuckles.

My plan was one minute of dub practice/one minute of rest until I got better at dubs or until Sprinter Boy showed up for our 3 o'clock skating interval workout.  I started with "two singles/one dub/stop."  It took me a good 15 minutes before I could do 10 of these in a row, after which I tried to do "two singles/dub/dub/stop."  I never did get consistent at this, and before long I found myself just trying to get as many dubs in a row as I could, rather than stopping at two.  I was marginally more successful if I stared at my right hand (in the mirror) and thought about turning the rope fast than if I watched my feet, so I stared at my right hand.  And I tried to relax, because the mirror allowed me to see what everyone else gets to see every time I try to do dubs: the more dubs in a row I achieve, the more, um, effortful each one becomes (the Hubster, who knows my athletic style well, used the word "violent.")  In other words, dub #1 looks relatively normal, but by dub #3 I look like I'm trying to stomp a six-foot rattlesnake to death.

Which, I'm sure, had something to do with what happened at 2:40.

After a half-hour of (mostly fruitless) dub practice, I decided to use the remaining time before my skating workout to re-do the "eighty dubs" part of yesterday's WOD.  I wanted to see if I could beat my time of 13 minutes...all that practice must have resulted in some improvement, right?  So, after a quick break in the hockey arena to cool off,  at 2:35 or so I started out on my eighty dubs.

Single, single, dub.

Single, single, miss.

Single, miss.

Things were not going well...and then they went horrible.

Single, single, dub...OUCH.  Damn.

Sudden, severe pain in my right calf.

"Oh," I thought (ever the optimist), "it's a cramp.  I'll walk it off."

Um, nope.  Not a cramp.  And walking wasn't really happening, unless I managed to do it in such a way that my calf muscle didn't engage at all.  

Well.  This was clearly not a good thing.  The only positive I could come up with was that, when I poked around my lower leg (oww!), it seemed to be muscle that was complaining rather than Achilles tendon--I had Achilles tendinitis in this leg in 2008, and it took a year to heal.  Not interested in signing up for that again.

So I stripped off my gloves and my neoprene, gathered up my rope and my iPod, and hobbled out to the track to meet Sprinter Boy--who took one look at my lurching gait and said "we're not skating today, are we."

Nope.

Back home, I consulted Dr. Google.  My guess is that I have a Grade 1 or possibly low-level Grade 2 calf strain--no bruising or swelling, but enough pain that I had to stop the activity and I'm not able to walk normally. 

Damn.  Bring on the ice and ibuprofen.

I had planned to go to this morning's 6:30 CrossFit class, and then the coach and I were going to go over the WOD's for Saturday's competition.

Oh, yeah...I have a competition Saturday.  More on that later...

So anyway, I went to CrossFit this morning.  I could do the strength work--squat snatches--and part of the WOD, the cleans.  I had to sub situps for bear crawls, though. And then, on to Personal Training to figure out how to attack the competition WODs on Saturday.  Or so I thought.  PT did end with discussing the competition--but it started with a well-deserved and very accurate lecture discussion about overtraining and the need for a break.  By the time the coach had filled in his impromptu "Injury Report" list on the whiteboard with everything I told him--left shoulder, left knee, right calf, left elbow--I could certainly see his point.  I need to take a break and get healthy, or bad stuff is going to happen (or, worse stuff than has already happened).  Bottom line is, other than the competition on Saturday (which I'm already registered for and which is a partner event, so I can work around the stuff I can't do, like jumping rope) I'm forbidden from working out--no skating, no CrossFit, no running, nothing more strenuous than walking the dog--until next Thursday.

Yikes.

If I'm honest, though, I know this is the best thing to do (even though I'll hate it).  I was beginning to suspect, by the first couple of days this week, that I might be dipping a toe into the "overreaching" waters (overreaching is what happens before overtraining; overreaching can usually be corrected fairly quickly if you take some recovery time to compensate for it.  If you don't...overtraining happens).  Anyway, my workouts were going more or less OK physically, but mentally I was struggling.  Getting frustrated with myself (hello, dubs).  Looking at the clock during CrossFit workouts and wondering if I could finish (I never look at the clock until the very end of the WOD, when I'm trying to cram in the last couple reps) even though I wasn't really struggling with the work--I was just...not motivated.  Going to a workout because it was on my schedule but not being excited about it.  So there were signs pointing to overreaching...but for us perimenopausal women, stuff gets confusing.  If I'd felt physically bad during WODs or skating, it would be easy to identify the need for a break...but the random hormonal swings enjoyed by us fifty-plus ladies always make me wonder, when my workout issues are mental, whether they're related to actual training issues or to fickle hormones.

But once the coach spelled it out for me, it seemed pretty clear: I need a break.

So after Saturday, I'm on the Disabled List until Thursday. Hopefully the Hubster and the dog will survive my forced inactivity  The competition on Saturday should be fun and I'll be able to distract myself from my Disabled List status by writing up a post about it on Sunday.  And if I'm smart I'll use my time and energy the first half of next week to get some stuff done at school, pre-Workshop Week.  And then, with any luck, my calf, shoulder, elbow and knee will be much happier when I resume workouts next Thursday.

I can't wait for Thursday.

My Downfall

I apologize to you children of the '90's who now have a nice Del Amitri earworm...

I have two current downfalls.

This is Downfall #1.

Hello, beverage of Satan

I've never been a fan of energy drinks.  Caffeine, yes--absolutely yes!  Coffee in the morning, iced tea whenever, some nice little "Zoom" caffeine chews from my sister Energizer Bunny's GNC store (now you know where she gets her energy from) if there's nothing else around.  And I had a bad diet pop habit--first Tab (why yes, I did just date myself), then Diet Coke, then Diet Dew--which I finally quit six months ago when I did the nutrition challenge through CrossFit SISU.  Given my love of a caffeine lift, it's surprising I never got into energy drinks--and the only reason I didn't is that they tasted like crap.  If crap tasted like carbonated melted SweetTarts, that is. ( I have nothing against SweetTarts, by the way--I just don't think they should be a beverage).  The couple times I tried energy drinks--Red Bull and Rock Star, if my memory serves me correctly--were desperate "solo sleepy drive home from Milwaukee after a weekend of racing" emergencies, and while the energy drink did (mostly) keep me awake, I wasn't sure if that was because of the caffeine or the gag-inducing taste.

So energy drinks were not on my radar...until the Warrior Dash last month. After we Dashed, we passed the "Monster" tent on our hike back to the shuttle bus.  BigStrongGuy's 15-year-old son was mumbling something about wanting to get a free Monster, but he was reluctant to go alone (perhaps the hot blond number handing out the drinks had him a bit intimidated; he was a nice kid).  So a bunch of us went with him--just to keep him company, you know.  But when I approached the tent, Hot Blond Number held up a white can and told me "you might like this one.  It tastes like Fresca."

Now, it didn't occur to me that I'd just been target-marketed--the Hubster was kind enough to point that out when I got home."She didn't tell the kid that 'this one tastes like Fresca,' did she," he said. "She used that line on the middle-aged lady who actually knows what Fresca is."  Yeah, whatever.  Anyway, Fresca sounded good right about then, after all the dashing and splashing and whatnot.  So I took the can. And opened it.  And drank it.

And hello, downfall.

Tasty (yup, like Fresca.  No SweetTarts).  Bubbly. Refreshing.  Aaaand...140 milligrams of caffeine.

What's not to love?

And love it I did, and continue to do.  Which is a problem, given how I operate.  I have two settings: "off," and "always." There's a reason I don't drink alcohol, and this is it: If I like it, I want it.  All.  The. Time.  In case you haven't figured it out from how I skate and how I CrossFit, I tend to be completely somewhat obsessive.  So now, on a fairly regular basis I'll get a vision of the bright white can...and I'll start thinking about how good it tastes...and how I really could use a little extra energy for the afternoon....  Most of the time I'm able to fight the urge, but about once a week something tips the scales and I find myself swinging into the nearest gas station for my fix.

So what sent me face-first into Downfall #1 today?

Why, Downfall #2.

 Hello, plaything of Satan

Yup, that's a speed rope.  Yes, it has just as bad of fashion sense as I do--that plaid athletic tape on one handle, meant to distinguish my rope from all the other black speed ropes, is the same stuff I tape my hands with when they need taping.  

Downfall #2 is, of course, dubs.

For the past five weeks, every day before CrossFit class I've been diligently working on items from my Suck Bucket (I came across this term in a blog post about a masters CrossFitter--I'd link it but I'm old and I can't remember where saw it, but I love the term so much that when I had to re-print my checklist that I use to keep track of what I've done every day (geek), I re-named the list "Suck Bucket.")  Anyway, I'm seeing improvement--sometimes slow, but improvement nevertheless--in every task.  Pushups, pullups, handstand pushups (with three abmats), ring dips (I can lower myself and then move back upwards a whole quarter inch now)...even the formerly-frustrating Knees to Elbows and Toes to Bar are coming around.  Everything is improving...except dubs.

In fact, dubs seem to be moving in the opposite direction.

So yesterday, after five weeks of tripping over the rope, stepping on the rope, missing many many single "double under" attempts, failing to string together more than two dubs, and whipping every body part imaginable more times than I could count, I decided I needed help.  I asked the coach if we could focus this week's Personal Training session on dubs.

So we did, and I achieved something I hadn't thought possible: I managed to frustrate the coach--who typically can find something positive to say about anyone, regardless of athletic ability--almost more than I frustrated myself.  After about five minutes of watching me vainly attempt to implement his advice and pretty much completely fail to execute any dubs whatsoever, he finally gave voice to what I'm sure was on both of our minds.

"How is it possible," he said incredulously, "that you've actually gotten worse at this?"

But worse I have, indeed, gotten--thus apparently proving the adage that "practice doesn't make perfect; perfect practice makes perfect."  Crappy practice, clearly, makes crap.  Which I proved beyond a doubt today--because of course, after yesterday's PT dub fail,  today's  WOD contained dubs.  Eighty of them.  As the first movement in the WOD.  Do not pass dubs, do not move on to the rest of the workout.

I was pretty sure the 20 minute cap would not be sufficient for the suckage that was about to ensue.

And I was right.  It took me over 13 minutes to complete the 80 dubs.  Just to refresh your memory, I completed 113 dubs in six minutes for the Granite Games Masters Sectional in June.  My math skills are a bit rusty and thus I will not attempt to accurately quantify the suck, but let's just say it's huge.  And barely making it one-third of the way through the "chipper" WOD before hitting the time cap was all the motivation I needed to trade in my planned afternoon of pre-"back to school" paperwork in my classroom for a cold Monster and a quick trip to the outlet mall for some retail therapy.  (What?  I needed some running shoes).

And tomorrow?  Well, tomorrow I plan to put myself in "Dub Bootcamp."  The coach and I decided that it might be good for me to go back to trying dubs while looking in the mirror; a version of this strategy is what got me to link two together for the first time back in March.  It's a slightly different situation this time, but desperate times call for desperate measures and the mirror was successful once.  The oval has a nice multi-purpose room with a full-wall mirror, so tomorrow I'll drive there for an extended session of hop-and-whip.

And I'm pretty sure who will be riding shotgun on the trip.

Nancy--and Community

Yesterday, I did Nancy.  (By the way, CrossFit is one of the only places where that statement is perfectly acceptable).  Anyway, yesterday I did Nancy for the third time since I started CrossFitting a year ago.  It was my slowest time, and my biggest effort--and it was not only one of the most rewarding things I've done lately, but it got me thinking about the CrossFit community.

"Nancy" is a "benchmark" workout, one of the WODs that CrossFitters everywhere do.  It's a way to record your own progress, or to measure yourself against others.  There are lots of benchmark WODs consisting of a lot of diabolical combinations of movements; Nancy happens to be five rounds for time of 400 meter run/15 overhead squats.  Rx, or "prescribed weight," for the squats is 95 pounds for men, 65 pounds for women.  The first time I did Nancy, back in October, I used the 15 pound bar (that's right, just the bar--no weight) and I finished in just over 16 minutes.  The second time I did it, in April, my shoulder was bad and I had to do front squats (which are easier) instead of overhead squats; I did the squats with 50 pounds, and that time I finished in just under 22 minutes.  This time, I wanted to do the correct movements, and to do the WOD as heavy as I could.

I knew that attempting Rx weight was probably not a good idea; my overhead squat "one rep max" is 70 pounds, so trying to do 75 squats at just five pounds less than that was likely not in my best interest.  55 pounds, though...that might be doable.  And as a bonus, 55 pounds uses the big rubber 10-pound plates.  Dropping an empty bar (35 pounds) or a bar with two metal 5-pound plates (45 pounds) is a big no-no; dropping a bar with two rubber 10-pound plates, while not ideal (the plates are thin enough to bend when they get dropped) is slightly more acceptable--and with my sore shoulder that protests "lowering the bar," dropping is an attractive option.

So 55 pounds it was.  I did a few reps with just the bar to warm up, then loaded the 10-pound plates.  I approached the bar and got ready to snatch it overhead--and then froze.  Despite the fact that I had just snatched the empty bar overhead, my brain seized up when confronted with the bar with weights.  "Snatch? Huh?  Say what?  I have no idea how to do that."  So I did what I'm finally learning is necessary in such situations: I grabbed a PVC pipe and went through the "snatch" motion with no weight a couple of times.  Then, brain finally on board for the task, I snatched up the bar and did an overhead squat with 55 pounds.

And it felt...OK.  Heavy. "75 reps of this will be a stretch" heavy.  But the coach watched me do a rep (he had requested three reps but at my age "warmed up" can quickly segue into "worn out" so I stopped at one) and gave his blessing to the weight, so I decided to go for it.  I planned to split the squats into sets of 5 right from the start, and just see what happened.

And what happened was...I did it.  I mostly made the sets of five; once I got "stuck in the hole" (at the bottom of my squat) at three and had to drop the bar; twice I made it to seven before I had to drop the bar. My final set was one of the ones where I made it to seven before taking a break, and when I took that break, I was the only one in the box still working on Nancy.  I was tired, I was dripping sweat, my arms were wobbly, and I was getting PVC's at the bottom of every squat (having your heart feel like it's skipping a beat just when you're preparing to exert maximum effort is a bit distracting).

Those last eight reps were looking mighty hard...and that's where the CrossFit community came into play.

As I reached down for the bar to start my final reps, people started coming over--not just the coach, but those who had already finished the WOD.  They were cheering; they were counting down my reps for me; they were telling me "you got this" and "come on, pick that bar up, you can do it."  And it helped...a lot.  I got through 5 more reps (I think.  My memory on these things gets a bit muddled), then dropped the bar again.  More cheers and support.  I picked up the bar again and snatched it overhead, determined to get the final three squats.  I didn't.  I got through two and then dropped the bar.

"That's OK!  One more! Pick it up!"

And I did.  I snatched the bar up, squatted, and then, sweat running into my eyes, PVC's thumping merrily away, arms shaking, I slooooowly stood back up.

And then dropped the bar and assumed the CrossFit post-WOD "Dead Possum" position. I had exceeded the 22-minute time cap, for my slowest Nancy ever...but I had done it with a weight that I hadn't thought possible.

"Good job!"

I opened my eyes and looked up to see a fist waiting for a fist bump--a fist belonging to the 13-year-old kid who had been one of the loudest cheer-ers. I happily returned his fist bump...and started thinking about the CrossFit Community.

I've been hearing and reading a lot about the CrossFit "community" lately; about the support and positive energy in boxes and at competitions; about how the last to finish often gets more applause than the first.  Sports Illustrated had an article about it; the announcers talked about it during the recent Reebok CrossFit Games (the CrossFit championships); I witnessed it at Mayhem in Mankato.  I've experienced it before first-hand (finishing a WOD last is still about a twice-weekly occurrence for me), but I've never really overanalyzed it thought about it before.

I know some people get cranky about getting cheered on when they're last.  Some people don't like the attention, and some people take exception to being cheered by someone who finished more quickly but who used a lighter weight.

Me?  I love it, and I think it's one of the coolest things about CrossFit.  I love it because we're cheering effort; we're supporting pushing one's limits; we're acknowledging people who choose to try something that's a stretch for them, regardless of how easy someone else might find the task.  Sure, it's awesome and inspiring and cool to watch the Rich Froning's and the "Mayhem in Mankato" winners and the studs and studettes in our local boxes; they rock at this and they are impressive as hell and it's fun watching people who are good at something.  But the truth is, not everyone can perform at that level...but everyone can push themselves, everyone can try something just a little bit harder than they thought possible, everyone can test their limits.  And when they do, they expand those limits just a little bit further every time, and that is worthy of the loudest cheering and support we can give--and CrossFit is one of the few places I've found that actively encourages this attitude, that consistently displays this attitude, and that truly understands the value of supporting everyone at every level.

So Nancy was fun--but experiencing the CrossFit Community was even more fun.

MN Half Marathon Race Report

My brother-in-law Sherpa Boy posted this picture on my Facebook timeline last night.  Yes, he's married to "that one sister," Energizer Bunny...and today EB and I had cause to re-create this photo.  But we'll get to that in a moment...

Today I skated the Minnesota Half-Marathon.  I haven't done a half marathon in two years, and the last one I did didn't go so well.  Neither, for that matter, did the one before that.  And I haven't exactly been training for distance skating; I've kept up with my oval workouts pretty well, but I haven't been on the trails for a longer skate since, um, June 8.  Which was a long time ago.  And then there is the small matter of all the CrossFit training I'm doing, including a nice heavy "front squat" WOD yesterday (why yes, I did PR, thanks for asking).  So I had no idea how this race would go, but I figured it might be a good test of whether or not CrossFit is good cross training for skating.

Turns out it is.  But of course I need to fill you in on a lot more details before I actually get to the results...

Today's race was to be a full-on family affair.  Both of our husbands were hauling themselves out of bed at 5 am to come take pictures, cheer for us, and schlep our gear bags around (which is, of course, how Sherpa Boy got his name), and EB and I were, of course, skating.

Or, well, we thought EB and I were skating.  She had planned to sign up the morning of the event, only to get there and discover that the race was full.  Naturally she was not happy that she couldn't skate, so I suggested, post-race, that she and I re-create the above picture.  EB rarely needs much encouragement to flip the bird.

EB and I express our opinions of how the morning went.

Once EB had accepted her new role as spectator, I got geared up and headed to the starting line.

Which turned out to be the first obstacle of the day.

I don't always sit on the ground to put my skates on, 

but when I do it's right in the middle of a walking trail.

Unlike most other inline road races that I've done, the MN Half Marathon does not divide the skaters into many different "waves."  In fact, there are only three: Elite; Duathlon (for those skating the half marathon and then running a 5K); and then the "Festivus for the Rest of Us" wave, the Open wave.  Which is where I was, and where part of the problem was.  It's simply not a good idea to let almost 300 skaters--male and female, young and old, lycra-clad and rockin' jeans--line up together to race.  I had learned my lesson on this the last time I did the MN Half Marathon and had decided to avoid the whole "dodging scores of rec skaters" thing by lining up right at the start of the wave (usually I'm much more "Minnesota Nice." Maybe some of that swagger I was talking about the other day has crept into my racing...).  So I lined up right behind the Duathlon skaters, who were to start two minutes before we did. And it seemed like a good plan...until the Duathlon skaters left and I discovered that I was not, as I had expected to be, at the front of the wave.  No, I seemed to be somewhere in the middle, surrounded by jeans and rec skates.  What the...?  Where did all these people come from?  I still don't know, but the end result was that my start this year was exactly like my start two years ago--slow, frustrating, and full of dodging.

I eventually worked my way into the clear, and then jumped onto a paceline.  I drafted for a bit, and then took my turn pulling...

That blurry little form on the far right is Skater Kid, son of 

Skater Cops 1 and 2.  He's about 11 now, and I'm afraid 

that this will be the last year I beat him.  He's a heck of a good skater.

Soon, however, my Long Track Skater personality took over.  I'm used to doing time trial-style races, where you need to be going as fast as possible (for the distance) at all times.  It just seems wrong to me to be coasting easily in a paceline, even though that's often the smart thing to do--so I left my comfortable paceline and set out on my own.  I caught up with and joined another paceline and stuck with it until mile five or so, but then I saw a couple guys moving up along the side of the paceline and I thought they were making a break and so I happily stepped out of the paceline to go with them...only to have them duck back into the line.  Oh, well, I thought--I'm out here, I might as well take off and see what I can do.

So I did.  I skated the next six or so miles solo.  And it was an absolute blast.  My legs felt great (well, they did have a flashback to the front squats on one of the larger hills), I felt strong, and I had my usual "race earworm" going ("Boom, Clap" this time, which has a nice beat for skating if you slow it down a little in your head).  True, I had a bunch of PVC's several times, but they weren't too bad and didn't slow me down much.  It was a really fun six miles.

And then, at about mile 11, the front skaters from the paceline I had left behind caught me (I did mention that a paceline is usually the smart way to skate, didn't I?).  I skated with them for a bit, then tried to pick up the pace with about a mile left.  It got a bit congested as the skaters spread out and started their sprints, and I heard a "skate click and crash" involving a couple skaters just behind me, so I moved to the outside and went as fast as I could to get away from the potential carnage.  And then I was across the finish line.

Scoring for the race is apparently experiencing some glitches and is still in progress at the moment so I don't know how I did relative to others in my age group, but I do know that my time--44:58--ties my third-best half marathon time ever, which was about eight years ago.  Which, of course, makes me very happy...I'm eight years older now and I haven't been training for road races, so feeling that good during the race and getting that good of a time (for me) really surprises me. 

 So as I said, apparently CrossFit does a pretty good job of cross training for inline skating...

Obligatory "post race sweaty picture."

Update:  I think the scoring glitches have settled down.  Looks like I was first in my age group (50-59) out of 23 old ladies, and 7th woman overall, out of 135 women.  Yes, this makes me very happy...