Two years ago today, I drove over to Crossfit KOP for an introductory session. As I looked into the gym from the lobby, the thought crossed my mind to say "Oh, this isn't IHOP? Guess I'll be going." There were lots of sweaty folks dropping barbells that looked very heavy. There was music blaring. I wanted to try this out, but nothing about it resonated with me. I had never really lifted weights before, aside from the summer between freshman and sophomore year in college when I benched with the guys. (It was not impressive)
There was one other guy waiting to take the intro. He was leaner than me (low bar, I know) and I guessed a few years older. I wondered if he was having the same thoughts I was having. He was not. When Coach Jen and Coach Paul came out to meet us, we started chatting about why we were there and what our athletic backgrounds were. The other guy stated that he knew a couple people at the gym (and of course, right on cue, some guy he knew walked by and yelled hi to him) and that his hobbies included running triathlons. Jen and Paul nodded, then turned their gaze to the sad sack sitting next to him. I told them that I watched the Crossfit Games on ESPN2 at 1am and thought I'd give it a try. I also mentioned that my current athletic background at that time was playing goalie for my wife's company's recreational soccer team. Slightly less nodding.
After some background about the gym, we were brought into the belly of the beast for a baseline workout. 500 meters rowing, 40 air squats, 30 sit-ups, 20 push-ups, and 10 pull-ups. Hmmm...never have done a pull-up in my life. That could be troublesome. And not for nothing, I had never rowed either. I could probably fake that though. Jen showed me how a pull-up could be done with a band, a lesson that I would cling to for most of the next 730 days. We started to warm up and then before I knew it, we were getting ready to go. As we started, I pulled on the rower with what I imagine must have been horrific form. I looked over at my in-shape rival's monitor and saw how fast he was going. Naturally, I pulled harder and faster until I was going the same pace. He reached 500 meters before me, but only by a couple seconds.
It wasn't much longer until I figured out what a dumb strategy that was. I tried to move fast through the air squats, but those suckers hurt. By the time I got to my sit-ups, I think Mr. Triathlon was already on his push-ups. When I got to the push-ups, I was hurting. I did a few legit push-ups, then it was time to do push-ups from my knees. The other guy was already done. Perhaps soccer goalies don't get quite as much cardio as triathletes. After the 20th push-up, I trudged over to the pull-up bar, where my band was awaiting me. Getting my foot into the band without slinging myself sideways was a challenge. And my arms were so far gone that I couldn't pull myself up even with the band. A box was brought over so I could do jumping pull-ups, which were basically just me jumping high with my fingers touching the bar. There was almost no pulling from my arms. At the end of my 10th jump, I was told that my time was 8:49. It felt like 38:49.
(Hey look, I kind of made it on the wall!)
With tonight marking my 2nd anniversary at the gym, I wanted to try that workout again. Hell, I'd even take on Mr. Triathlon if he wanted a rematch! (Spoiler: he would have killed me again) My only concern was the pull-ups. I've been working on them, but they are still dicey. When I warmed up tonight, I kipped through a set of four, then several sets of three. If I could do that at the end of the workout, I'd be fine.
Steph C. (who took that photo above and, if you look in the middle of the list below mine, smoked me with her intro of 5:04) graciously agreed to time me for the second go round. The row was fast but controlled, probably even faster than my crazy sprint back on my first day. The air squats were fast and unbroken. The sit-ups seemed fast, but it's always a little hard to tell with those. I decided that I wanted to break up the push-ups a bit so I wasn't smoked for the pull-ups. I went 5, 5, 3, 3, 4. And when I headed to the pull-up bar, the time read 4:34.
That is when everything went to shit. I jumped to the high bar and managed 3 kipping pull-ups. Then I went to do #4 and it didn't happen. Not the second time either. Starting to panic, I turned to the lower bar. Being too big for it and having not used it in a long time, I awkwardly tried to kip to no avail. Still 7 to go. I jumped up on the big bar and got #4. Eventually got #5. Each attempt would alternate between terrible and barely successful. After getting #6, I tried the lower bar again. Just as awkward. Brittany told me to try a strict pull-up and that worked. 3 left! Tried another strict pull-up. Did not go as well the second time. Failed on the big bar again. Starting to worry that I won't get 10 at all. Where's my box to jump off of? Or a bridge for that matter. Eventually, #8, #9, and #10 were completed, but the clock had ticked all the way up to 8:41. I shaved 8 seconds off my time in 2 years. So disappointing. Glad I did it RX, but man, I hate me some pull-ups.
The rest of the night was focused on the Open. In case you missed it, here is Dave Castro's announcement of 15.1:
The announcement threw a bit of a kink in my bet with Rachel. Now there is an even number of events (unless other workouts have parts like this). Plus, 15.1a isn't really fair because I definitely clean and jerk more than her. So we're going to have to figure out some way of determining who does the higher clean and jerk based on the typical proportion of men's weight to women's weight in a workout.
My goals for the workout: for 15.1, I want to complete 3 rounds. Toes-to-bar will be tough for me, but if I can get through those, deadlifts and snatches should be right up my alley. For 15.1a, it's another chance at going after 225. My plan will be to go 165, 195, 215, then 225. Hopefully I can go 4 for 4.
The Open begins tomorrow for us! Excited, terrified, and everything in between! Hopefully my blog post tomorrow night will not be completely depressing.
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