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.