Archives for posts with tag: WOD

The crossfit gym I go to has been growing and we got some new toys this week: Tires and Battle Ropes:


3 rds
1 min Battle Ropes
1 min Shuttle Run
1 min Tire Flips
1 min Core
1 min Squat Jumps

I like these days, these days where a real workout sneaks in under the silliness.

You can’t deny you’re working out when you do Fran or Angie or any of the standard WODs. Pull ups and Olympic lifts are no joke. No version of 95lb thrusters is going to feel like fun. It’s work and it’s good – like a big bowl of fiber – but if that’s all crossfit was I don’t think I would have lasted this long.

I need this silliness to balance it out. Flipping tires in the light fall drizzle. Running back in to throw around some ropes. Running back out to do the shuttle run. Back in to do some situps. Sign me up. Let me forget that maybe tomorrow I’ll show up and the filthy fifty will be on the board.


When we set up for the WOD yesterday the instructor said very clearly, “Find your pull-up spot. Get a box if you need it. There is enough room for everyone to have their own space.” I’m fairly particular about my placement and assistance needs when it comes to pull-ups so I waited by my spot while some of the other folks found their spots too. Yes, that’s right, some. Why didn’t everyone find a spot? Good fucking question. By the last rounds of the workout there were three other people using my spot on the bar. Turns out, I don’t like to share my toys.

This could have been another moment to project kindness and patience into the world. Good for them, pulling themselves up and such. I didn’t have it in me. I didn’t even have enough oxygen in my brain to count to back from ten.  So I worked faster, tried to shrug my shoulders at the right point and get to the pull-up bar first. And you know what? I came in second.

My irritation breeds strength, you toy-stealing jerks. Boom.

Crossfit is built on competition. Until recently my competition has been some badass 50 year old women. Yesterday, a new girl started. She’s my age-ish (late 20s, early 30s) and I don’t like her. The way I don’t like her is immature and unwarranted and deep in my chest. She wouldn’t stop talking about how much she loves pilates. Bully for you, I thought.

Then, as we settled into the WOD (Workout Of the Day), I realized she was cheating – not doing full reps for each exercise. My anger quickly synthesized into righteousness. The old high school gym teacher’s voice popped into my head “you’re only cheating yourself”. It’s too ugly a phrase to say out loud to a stranger but really what was she trying to prove? I wanted to beat her, get a better time than her. Even more, I wanted to win. So I did all my reps. I worked until my knees and elbows shook with exhaustion. Then, though she finished a full minute before I did, I won.

Thanks, new-girl.

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