I didn’t want to go to crossfit this morning. Yes, I had lots of totally valid reasons to feel unmotivated: Ten AM is far too early to be out and about on a Saturday. Last night I drank two beers. It’s almost July. The neighbor’s cat died. My little deck garden seems to be home to earwigs and wasps. The dog looks super cute in as she sits in the sun waiting for her morning belly-rub. Very valid reasons.

But, I went. We did push presses until my arms shook. I felt weaker than usual but that’s to be expected with as many totally valid reasons to skip as I had. After the workout, as one of the 50 year old women and I discussed our matching clean jerk wounds from last week, she talked me into going to a not-beginner class next week. Some combination of post workout euphoria and mild hangover insanity made me say yes. It might be a great choice. Then again, it might mean I’ll be complaining about my debilitating hand wounds every day. We’ll see.

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