There's No Crying In Wall Balls

Workout date: 3/21/16

When I got home from the St. Paddy's Day festivities, I took a long nap.  I was tired and sore.  It didn't matter how badly I wanted to watch March Madness or the live announcement of 16.4, this was one time where my body was stepping in and telling me that rest was mandatory.  When I woke up later that evening, I caught up on the basketball scores (very few upsets) and watched a replay of the 16.4 announcement.  Dave Castro gave us the following:

Open Workout 16.4
13 minute AMRAP
55 deadlifts (225/155)
55 wall balls (20#/14# to 10'/9')
55 calories rowing
55 handstand push-ups

My initial reaction was positive.  I hate doing large sets of deadlifts at any weight, but I have done 20 in a row at 225 before.  Plus I knew there weren't a ton of guys in the gym who deadlifted as much weight as I did, despite my inability to cross the 400 pound threshold.  I've been working on getting mentally tougher with wall balls, so that part of the workout should have been good for me as well.  I'm average on the rower.  The tiebreaker for this workout was your time when you got off the rower, so even if I couldn't do any handstand push-ups (and trust me, I was pretty certain that I wasn't getting any handstand push-ups), finishing the first three items in a quick time would leave me in good standing in our gym competition.

That was how I felt about it on Thursday night.  When I arrived on Monday night to do the workout, I felt completely different about it.  There were no positives or negatives to the workout.  There was nothing.  The only thing that had been on my mind since Saturday afternoon was Indy.  It wasn't for a lack of trying.  On Sunday, I watched the second round of March Madness games, but I couldn't get into them.  It wasn't that the games weren't compelling or that there weren't any major upsets.  There were.  They just didn't matter, even though I wanted them to.  I bounced back and forth between feeling numb and bawling my eyes out because Indy wasn't there.  I didn't feel like leaving the house, but everything in the house reminded me of her.  Couldn't be helped.

Initially I only told three people of Indy's passing.  I told the two guys I consider to be my brothers (Shaymus and Brendan).  And I told my mom, because she would be nagging me with texts asking how Indy was doing if I didn't tell her and I didn't want to deal with the range of emotions those texts would bring.  I changed my profile pic on Facebook and Twitter to a picture of Indy in memory of her.  Jenn handled it in much the same way, only telling her sister originally.  I don't think either of us knew how to share that news on a wider scale at that moment.  In the end, we didn't have to.  Jenn's sister made a comment on my profile pic about the passing of Indy, as did my mom.  And once it was out there, everyone knew and began expressing their condolences.  It was a kind gesture from everyone, but it generated a lot more tears.

My biggest concern walking into the gym on Monday night wasn't my score on 16.4.  My main concern was not crying.  There is a wonderful community at KOP and I knew they would be looking out for me.  But really all I wanted to do was go in, do the workout, and go home.  Hearing "I'm sorry" or receiving a hug was going to be very difficult for me to deal with.  I wasn't even sure how well I would do letting down my guard to try and focus on the workout.  What if I started thinking about Indy in the middle of wall balls?  Would I have to stop?  Could I keep doing the workout if I began crying?  These are things you typically don't have to worry about at the gym.

When I got to the gym, I got a couple of hugs and some sorries, but I kept it together.  I warmed up for a little while, then I served as Samson's judge as he did 16.4.  Then it was my turn to go.  My plan was to try and do sets of 11 deadlifts for as long as I could, then break down to smaller sets when necessary.  For the wall balls, I wanted to do 55 reps over three sets, most likely 25-15-15.  For the row, I wanted to finish in 3 minutes.  And then I would try not to break my neck while attempting to get a handstand push-up.  How did it go?  Not as planned, per usual.

The workout began and I did 11 deadlifts.  Could have done more, but I thought I had a good plan in place where I wouldn't redline early on, but I'd still be moving through the deadlifts at a fast place.  When I went to do the second set, I still felt fine, but I hit my knee while bringing the barbell back down to the floor after my 5th rep.  I held on long enough to get one more rep, but then I dropped.  And from there, my momentum was gone.  In my next set, I did 6 more reps to get me to 23.  Then I did two sets of 3 reps to get to 29.  Giulz was judging me and recommended singles and that is what I went to for the last 26 reps.  I tried to do sets of 3 quick singles, but my interest in the workout was already dissipating.  Maybe it would have been different had I not hit my knee in the second set, but once the plan went awry, I began falling apart mentally.  It felt like forever before the 55th deadlift was completed, but forever was more like 4:15 into the workout.

I walked over to my wall ball and got ready to do big sets.  I was breathing heavily from the deadlifts, but I was by no means exhausted.  Despite that fact, I dropped the ball after 5 reps.  I was numb again.  I couldn't concentrate on breathing properly.  Couldn't concentrate on fighting through the physical pain that comes with doing large sets of wall balls.  I just wanted to chip away and rest.  Eventually my sets grew to 7-8 each time I picked up the ball, but that wasn't great either.  When I got to 55, the clock let me know I had a smidge over three minutes left for the row.

So much for a decent tiebreaker time.  Or the tiebreaker time might not matter at all.  I planned on doing the 55 calories in 3 minutes, but seeing how I couldn't generate enthusiasm for the first two movements, what were the chances I was going to make it happen on the row?  Answer: zilch.  When the clock hit 11 minutes, I saw that I had only 11 or 12 calories.  I was trying to keep good form and get big pulls, but the fire wasn't there.  I didn't want it.  No part of me felt like putting in the effort required to finish that row in 3 minutes.  I had one half of Jalona on either side of me, yelling at me to pull, but nothing was going to get me through 55 calories before time elapsed.  Jason came over to tell me that he had finished with 36 calories and that I needed to catch him.  Except I was already at 34 calories and there were about 45 seconds remaining.  If I couldn't get 3 calories in that time, then I wasn't rowing at all.  I managed to make it to 41 calories before time expired.  Final score: 151.

In a vacuum, that is a pretty terrible score for me on that workout.  Given the circumstances though, I'm not sure how I feel about it.  Glad I went in and did it.  Not so enthused that I didn't even come close to getting off of the rower.  After the workout was over, I went outside and sat in the cool air for a bit.  I needed to breathe.  I needed to cool down.  But more than anything, I probably just needed to be alone for a few minutes.  When I got to a point where I felt comfortable going back inside, I re-entered the gym and put my stuff away.  I chatted with a few people and then I took off.  No interest in Monday night Open Strength.  What I needed more than anything was more time for mental recovery.

Tuesday preview: I return to the gym for Dudes After Dark in better spirits.  The WOD consists of muscle-up practice and back squats.

Irish I Would Have Stretched

Workout date: 3/17/16

Last year Cline mentioned that he was doing this tour de force across the city of Philadelphia on St. Paddy's Day.  It involved lots of running, but lots of drinking as well.  7 stops for adult beverages with 11 miles of running along the way.  Sounded a little daunting, but like a lot of fun as well.  Unfortunately, I couldn't take part in it due to a work conflict.  This year Cline gave us plenty of notice to get our acts together in time for this event.  And I couldn't come up with even a mildly good reason to miss the event this year.  So I decided to head out on my first ever non-KOP Cline event along with Alison.  The following is what I can recall from the day.  Any important moments not chronicled here are missing due to intoxication, exhaustion, or the fact that my brain is actively repressing a memory.

Let's start on March 16th.  It is pretty rare that I go shopping, but I felt the need to stop by the mall and grab some attire for the big day.  Cline is always making a fashion statement at the gym (opinions vary on what that statement is) and I expected that his cohorts would be doing the same.  I couldn't wear a typical St. Paddy's Day outfit.  I needed something different.  I decided to come up with an outfit that I felt had the right mix of classy and not classy.  Classy: a green fedora.  Not only would it add a bit of sophistication to my outfit, it would also protect the dome during a long day of running in the sun.  Not classy: a shirt with a large finger pointing at the viewer with the proclamation "You look like I could use a beer", complete with a bottle opener sewn into the bottom of the shirt.  Yeah, that was the right mix for me.  Or at least I thought it was.  When Alison met us at the Art Museum the next morning, she was on a bedazzling kick.  The amount of glitter on my face increased as the day went on and the result was...

I am very happy in this photo because I have to run no more

Also part of the wardrobe: cargo shorts to hold all of my crap, including a second shirt since I assumed I would be drenched in sweat by the end of the run.

I took a train to 30th St. Station and waited for Cline's train to arrive.  When he got there, I got to meet two of his friends: Crafty and Cleary.  "Hi, I'm Dave!"  Shit, why wasn't I prepared with a cool name?  I should have known Cline's friends would all have cool names.  I showed up with...Dave?  Fail!  We met a few other folks at 30th St. before heading out on the walk to the Art Museum.  When I got there, I met a few other people in the ever-expanding group.  Then Alison showed up and we got the day started with some Irish coffees.  Would it have been better to start with some stretching?  In hindsight, yes.  But instead of getting my legs ready for 11 miles of running, I decided to get my liver ready for many hours of drinking.  Oops.

As the size of the group swelled, I began to worry about how smoothly this little adventure would go.  It sounded like it had gone off without a hitch in the past.  You pay your fee for the day to someone who is in charge of getting a head count for the group.  You let them know whether you want a Guinness or a cider when you get to the bar.  And when you get there, majestically lined up on the bar will be all of the beverages that you ordered.  That sounded fantastic, especially on St. Paddy's Day when bars were likely to be crowded.  Add in that it was the first day of March Madness and getting a drink anywhere could be difficult.  But after we departed the Art Museum and went on our first 1.75 mile run to the City Tap House, we arrived to this sight for sore legs:

Refreshments at City Tap House

That first leg was tougher than I expected, especially since the sun emerged from the clouds while we were making the trek.  Not pictured above were all of the glasses of water that the group needed.  One hand for beer, one hand for water.  It was going to be a long day and hydrating was important.  Well at least until you got drunk enough that you completely forgot about hydration.

With one pint down, it was time to head back to the city.  But first we needed to take a lap around Franklin Field.  Our rowdy group ran through the Penn campus, startling the sober students walking to class.  It was fantastic.  A group of older people showing the college kids how to be drunk and crazy?  Take notes son.  The glory was short-lived though as our arrival at the Franklin Field gate was stopped by a security guard who informed us that he wasn't letting us in.  BOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Seemingly defeated, the crew did an about-face and began running around the perimeter of the stadium, in the direction of the city.  However, when we got to the other side of the field, there was a gate open.  The runners at the head of the group began pleading with the gentleman stationed there to let us run a lap around the field.  The employee eventually decided that we were a bunch of harmless dopes and let us storm the stadium.  Victory!  

Alison decided that she would wait for me rather than do a lap.  I had never been inside Franklin Field before.  Apparently I wasn't good enough at track in high school to be included on the team that got to go to Penn Relays.  But I had heard a lot about the place and it was cool getting to experience this venue in a "hope we don't get arrested" way.  I took video as I did my lap, slapped high-fives to those in our group who ran clockwise around the track, and finally posed as Alison snapped a photo of me heading to the tunnel to exit the stadium:

Take that, security guy at the other gate!

From there, it was on to Slainte.  Alison and I were at the tail end of the group, mainly because my pace had slowed.  But there was another very cool moment ahead as a large part of the group was waiting on us stragglers outside of the bar.  They had formed a huge welcoming lane for us.  As we came down the block towards them, one of them perfectly tossed a frisbee at us.  Oh no!  Cline's people were frisbee pros.  I couldn't mess this up or I'd certainly be facing ridicule the rest of the day. Don't drop the bee, Dave!  I ran towards the frisbee and caught it.  Then I had a mildly respectable toss down the line back to the person who threw me the frisbee which drew some cheers.  Passed my first major test of the day!

After finishing a pint at Slainte, it was on to Fado.  Except the run to Fado included a lap and a half around Rittenhouse Square.  As we neared Rittenhouse Square, I began to hurt.  I hadn't trained for this run and I stupidly hadn't stretched at the beginning.  Now I was paying the price.  Alison stayed true to her distaste for doing laps, letting me know she'd wait for me where the lap and a half ended.  From there, it was a couple of blocks to Fado, where the group of runners were awaiting us again outside the bar (no frisbee challenge this time).  We had just gotten our pints when Cline let Alison and I know that we needed to finish them quickly if we wanted to join him on an unofficial detour in the run (shots at Good Dog).  We did our best to polish off our glasses expediently, although we did linger around to chat with a bouncer who initially seemed to hate us when we arrived.

The run to Good Dog was only about a block, but even that hurt.  I had no idea how I was going to complete this run.  At Good Dog, the one shot ended up being two shots and a non-Guinness stout.  And the shots were of the heavy pour variety:

Shots, shots, shots!

The rest of the group had moved on to Paddy Whack's and the five of us who had gone on the detour were behind schedule.  Five was an unfortunate number because taxis are not allowed to have five passengers at a time.  Luckily for us, there was a magic carpet floating through Center City at that moment.  The five of us hitched a ride on it and we were back together with the main group in no time.  (Seriously, that's what happened.  Why are you doubting this?)

Another pint down and it was time to get running again.  Oh boy.  This time we were headed to the Plough and the Stars.  I slowly trotted along as the group got farther and farther away from me.  And then I got to the point where I needed to walk.  I was in a lot of pain as my hips were completely shot at this point.  I did stumble upon a bit of luck though as the group was stopping at the Irish Memorial for a moment of silence along the way.  I was able to catch up to them there.  It wasn't a long way from there to the Plough and the Stars, so I managed to jog to my next beer.

We were at that location for a little longer than some of the previous spots mainly because it was a packed house in there.  Calling ahead and having our beers ready helped, but it was still a mob scene trying to get to the beers.  I got to watch the end of the first March Madness game while we were there.  This was also the only spot along the way where we heard live music.  As I finished off my Guinness, I heard we were on the move again.  Just two more stops to go.  You can handle that, right Dave?

Headed to Bourbon and Branch.  Standing upright was difficult at that moment.

I didn't make it very far on the run to Bourbon and Branch before I needed to start "power walking" again.  Alison stayed with me despite the fact that we had now lost the group.  In fact, we got a little bit turned around on the way to Bourbon and Branch even though it was almost a straight shot up from Plough and the Stars.  Directions are hard when you're wobbly.  There was discussion of car bombs at Bourbon and Branch, but thankfully that didn't happen.  After finishing yet another Guinness, it was time to head to Kelliann's, our final destination.

Ok, maybe not our final destination.  I'm not sure if I even did any token running before walking again on the ultimate leg.  However, being separated from the group worked out in our favor, as Alison spotted a cheesesteak place along the way.  There had been talk of food waiting for us at Kelliann's, but Alison and I couldn't pass up this opportunity.  We dropped in, placed an order, and inhaled half of a cheesesteak each.  Easily one of the best decisions of the day.  With our bellies content, we continued our walk down Spring Garden St. until we came to Kelliann's.  The reception was not as warm as it had been at Slainte and Fado ("You guys are walking?  Really?  It's the last leg!"), but we were still excited to be done.  We grabbed some more food from the buffet set up at the back of the bar and one last cold one.  It may not have been pretty, but we made it to the finish line.

Happy Cline, Severely-in-pain Dave, Happy Alison

It really was a great time, but next year I am going to make sure I do some running in advance of this outing.  Oh, and lots and lots of stretching!

Aftermath.  Ummm, I mean, preview:  It took a full day to recover, so I didn't make it to Friday Night Lights at the gym for 16.4.  I didn't work out on Saturday because I had my dentist appointment in the city.  And you all know how Saturday night ended.  I had no interest in working out on Sunday and if I didn't have to complete 16.4 by 8pm on Monday, I would have skipped going to the gym Monday night.  But I didn't want to miss an Open workout, so I came in for that.  My next post will cover how 16.4 went down.

Max Horsepower

Workout dates: 3/15/16 and 3/16/16

Back to Crossfit.  When I last wrote about attempting something athletic, I was struggling for nearly 34 minutes during a WOD that included 340 double unders, 170 air squats, and 85 push presses.  The next night, I was at Dudes After Dark, getting ready for a workout that I had never done before, but seemed to be a cousin of one that I actually liked.  That workout was called the Bear Complex.  This one was called the Horsepower Complex.  And seriously, knowing my love of equines, how could I not be better at this version?  Here's how the Horsepower Complex works:

Horsepower Complex:
Without putting the barbell down, complete 7 rounds of the following:
1 snatch deadlift
1 hang power snatch
1 overhead squat
1 back squat
1 push jerk

(Note: For the Bear Complex, the 5 movements are power clean, front squat, push press, back squat, and push press.  Apparently coming up with a fifth unique movement was too difficult for the creators of the Bear Complex.)

Now that Dudes After Dark has become a cultural phenomenon, it seems like the class has been an even split of men and women.  That was once again the case as we had 2 guys and 2 girls there for the 7:30 class.  Ms. January (Christine) and Julie Foucher were representing the ladies, while me and Chris D were bringing bald power to the WOD.  I began looking over the results from earlier in the day and saw that all the scores seemed to be on the low side, meaning I was probably underestimating how difficult this workout would be.  Keithie had done 135 pounds and a couple other guys had gotten 115, but 105 seemed to be a solid score for this workout.  We were supposed to be doing 5 sets of the Horsepower Complex, but I had already determined that 4 sets would be plenty for me.  I'd start with just the barbell (45), then add 20 pounds after each set until I reached 105.

Even that plan seemed a little shaky after doing the first set with the empty barbell.  I thought I could rip through all seven rounds fairly quickly, but as I got to round four, my pace slowed.  There was a cardio aspect to this WOD that I hadn't fully considered.  I had seen Matt E and Fayth finish the 6:30 class and they were drenched in sweat, but my slow-reacting brain thought it was due to the fact that it was a warm evening.  Now I was realizing that it probably had more to do with doing 35 consecutive reps of this complex before putting the barbell down.  At least I wasn't underestimating the workout any more.

I completed the set at 45 and did a set at 65.  As I got ready to do my next set at 85, I saw that Chris had already gotten to 95 pounds.  I wasn't sure what set he was on, but it seemed likely that he had a couple of sets left.  I began to reconsider doing only four sets instead of the full five.  If 105 wasn't awful, I could try a final set at 115.  I would probably have to pick up the pace a little bit though as class had started at 7:45 and I figured we needed to be done by 8:30 (Coach Rachel had some intro folks asking her questions in the lobby for a while).

The set at 85 was where I had to start focusing on my breathing and taking advantage of the fact that this is not a timed workout.  After doing the overhead squat, you had the opportunity to rest the barbell on your shoulders behind your head as you prepared for the back squat.  This was easily the best place to catch your breath and re-grip if necessary.  In fact, I began treating this as the starting point of each round even though the real start came from the floor.  If I rested prior to the back squat, I'd do the back squat and the push jerk, then try to quickly get through the snatch-grip deadlift, the hang power snatch, and the overhead squat before resting again.  That was how I thought about each round.  At 85 pounds, I discovered that I could get through 3 full rounds and the beginning of the fourth round before needing that rest at the back squat.  The rest was to catch my breath even though I was trying my best to breathe throughout the entire sequence.  I got through all seven rounds at 85, but I needed to towel off as I was starting to become soaked.

It wasn't just the bald guys sweating.  Ms. January had a nice sweat going and Julie Foucher was doing all sorts of crazy balancing tricks with the barbell as her grip began to give way during her sets.    After a visit to the paper towel rack, I grabbed 20 more pounds to add to my bar.  It was about 8:20, so it was going to be tight getting in a set at 115 if 105 went well, but I'd do it if other folks were still working.  The set at 105 was similar to the set at 85 in that I got through 3 rounds before needing to slow down.  I began to worry about the hang power snatch as this was where your grip was really tested, plus it was easy to fail here if you got tired and used lazy form during the snatch.  The overhead squat was the most natural place to fail and I had to maintain focus there as well.  I felt confident that I could handle the overhead squat at that weight, but your body does funny things when it gets tired.  I could sense some wobble each time I began the overhead squat, so I started taking an extra second or two after the hang power snatch to ensure my balance was solid.  I finished up 105 and started thinking about 115.

Everyone was still working at this point, so getting that 5th set in didn't seem like too much of a problem.  And Rachel had let us know that we could run over a little bit since we had started late.  Chris had done 105 as well and went to try 115, but he ran into problems with the overhead squat and couldn't hang on to the barbell.  Julie Foucher had her own system going, one that included many a re-grip, but she managed to hold on at 70 pounds.  As for Ms. January, she worked her way through an entire set at what I believe was 85 pounds and dropped her barbell with a sigh of relief.  It was my turn to go again.  I made it through 2 rounds at 115 before needing to grab that break before the back squat.  From that point on, there was a lot of focus on breathing and technique.  The barbell wasn't extremely heavy, but this complex gave you ample opportunity to mess up along the way.  The deadlifts were easy.  My technique on the snatches were better this round than they were at 105.  I was strong on my overhead squats.  And the back squats and push jerks at 115 were not much of a problem.  I was feeling good about things as I transitioned into the 7th and final round when I felt my grip loosen.  I had needed to adjust my grip once or twice while resting the barbell on my back during this set, something that I hadn't done in previous sets.  I guess I was beginning to notice that my grip was weakening.  When my hookgrip came loose at the beginning of round seven, I was concerned.  There's nothing worse than blowing a complex after having done six rounds of it already.  I just needed to get through the hang power snatch.  After doing the deadlift, I got ready to do the snatch sans hookgrip.  Don't drop this, idiot...  Luckily, I did not.  Once I got the barbell over my head, I knew I could finish the set off.  Did the overhead squat, fixed my grip before the back squat, did the back squat and jerk and I was done.  115 was a success.  I had done 5 sets.  Time to call it a day.

Or not.  Ms. January was going to try and tie Aimee's score of 95 pounds, so she was going to do one more set.  And Rachel was adamant that my form looked really good during the complex.  She wanted me to try and tie Keithie at 135.  That seemed like a longshot.  Rachel was convinced I could still do more though, so she talked me into attempting 125, which would give me the second highest male score in the gym that day.  Fair enough.  Ms. January gave me some inspiration when she battled her way through a set at 95 pounds.  At one point, she actually lost control of the barbell after rising from an overhead squat, but she managed to snag it down near her knees and was able to recover from there.

My set at 125 started off like the set at 115 did with two quick rounds strung together before I needed to begin catching rest on the back squat.  I don't think I spent a lot of time in the rest position, just enough to get my breathing under control.  The hang power snatches went better than expected, but grip strength was definitely an issue.  I lost my grip at 115 when beginning round 7.  For 125, I lost it when beginning round 5.  But I was determined not to drop the barbell having gotten this far along.  There was no hookgrip for the last 3 snatches, but I got them over my head anyways.  I was extremely relieved when I got to drop the barbell after the 7th push jerk.  Final score: 125.

(Rachel would later text me and say "I wish there was time for you to do one more set at 135".  I'm not sure how well that would have went, but I appreciate how much faith she has in me.)

That was Tuesday night.  On Wednesday, I came in for strength and did my front squat program.  I did 6 sets of 3 reps at 215.  Around set three or four, I started to develop a rhythm to the lifts.  Getting three reps began feeling comfortable and I was doing a good job of staying in my heels and generating power out of the bottom of the squat.  After that, I attempted one of the Festivus WODs again.  I tried out the rowing/bench press workout again, this time using 85 pounds on the bench press instead of 75.  In order to beat my score with 75 pounds, I needed to complete 51 reps.  Sure enough, right as I pressed out my 51st rep, the alarm on my phone went off indicating time was up.  It doesn't seem like there is much to be gained from going higher than 75 pounds and there is no point using extra weight when I'll have three other WODs to do that day, so I think I'm set on using 75 pounds for that workout.

Thursday (St. Paddy's Day) preview: A whole day with Cline!  And Alison!  Follow along with me on a journey of running, drinking, and destroying my hip flexors.

The Queen of Pomerania

When I started this blog, my intention was to keep the subject matter limited to Crossfit.  I like to keep my social media accounts separate because I rarely meet people that share the same interests as me.  Not into horse racing?  No problem, just avoid my Twitter account.  Think Crossfit is a cult?  No need to click on this blog.  Facebook is my default "other" social media account, but I have less and less use for it everyday.  I log on and see my news feed clogged with the extreme political stances of folks that seem otherwise normal.  More than anything, Facebook has become my instant message provider.

As I became addicted to writing this blog, I realized that it would end up being a source of therapy for me.  And those that know me really well know that I could use a lot of therapy.  It was easy for me to draw parallels between my struggles in Crossfit and my struggles in life in general.  Once upon a time, I could do this with poker as well.  (Be happy you never had to read a poker blog from me!)  But while Crossfit has become a big part of my life in recent years, there are many things outside of the gym that affect me.  And when it hits me hard, I end up writing about it here.  Last year, I wrote a post on what may have been the most excruciating gambling experience of my life, a 15 minute period where I watched $100,000 disappear from my grasp.  Today I am writing about something much more difficult: the loss of my dog Indy.  This is her eulogy of sorts.  There will probably be very little in here that you will find entertaining ("oh, so no different than normal!").  But this is my way of trying to move forward.  It is my way of honoring her memory.  Someone who made my life better for nearly 14 years deserves at least that.

Indy was the second dog I ever had an attachment to.  The first dog was named (coincidentally) Mindy.  She was a large sheep dog who was born right around the time I was born.  We grew up together and she was very attached to me.  I had two sisters, but Mindy didn't perk up until she saw me coming home from school.  I don't have as many memories of Mindy as I used to, but I have a couple that stand out in my mind.  I remember when she gave birth to a bunch of puppies.  Seeing that happen as a kid was very frightening at first, but then it suddenly was something amazing.  And sadly, I remember when her health began to decline.  She got to a point where she seemed like she was suffering badly.  And one day, when I came home from middle school, my parents let me know that they had made the decision to put Mindy to sleep.  I was heartbroken, but deep down I knew it was the right thing to do.

There was no substitute for Mindy.  Over the course of middle school and high school, my parents got a few other dogs, but they were more like roommates than family members to me.  There was nothing about them that struck a chord with me.  When I went to college, I didn't have to worry about pets.  After graduating college, I didn't think much about getting a pet.  It wasn't until Jenn made the decision to live alone for her third year of law school that the topic came up again.  She had an awful roommate experience the year before and couldn't deal with another year of that.  But she didn't want to be by herself and I was working in New York at the time.  The solution: it was time to get a dog.  Jenn had grown up having a Pomeranian in her home, so she looked for a Pomeranian puppy.  And that was when Indy entered our lives.

When we first got her, we didn't have a name picked out.  There aren't many things that I give myself credit for, but coming up with good names on the spot is one of them.  I was on the phone with Jenn shortly after she had brought the new puppy home and we talked about what to call her.  Then it hit me.  Jenn has a mild obsession with Harrison Ford and loves the Indiana Jones movies.  And well...

We'd end up calling her Indy (see, the Indy-Mindy thing was a total coincidence).  If she did something bad, she was Indiana.  And if she did something really bad, we scolded her with a "Dr. Jones!"

I wasn't entirely sure whether I would like the new pup.  Mindy was a big lumbering dog that didn't make a lot of noise.  This new dog was tiny and made lots of noise.  But she had personality.  And the way she got excited every time I showed up at 2am after an eight-hour Friday night drive reminded me of how Mindy reacted towards me when I was younger.  It wasn't long before Jenn was jealous of how Indy reacted towards me ("she never gets excited when I get home!").  It had been more than a dozen years since Mindy had passed on, but I was finally ready to have another dog.

After Jenn finished law school, the three of us moved to Philadelphia together, getting an apartment near the art museum.  We had spent a lot of time trying to find a good apartment, but it wasn't until we stumbled upon this one that we felt like we had gotten a deal.  Most of the places we saw were either crappy places in nice neighborhoods or nice places where a murder scene was being cordoned off a block away.  This apartment was in a good neighborhood and actually gave us two floors of living space (ok, maybe more like one and a half).  Indy didn't love the new arrangement.  Brimming with energy, she was constantly running around and barking.  You can imagine how much the neighbors loved us.  (Then again, our neighbors were assholes, so too bad.  Wish she barked more than she did.)  I was away one weekend and got a panicked call from Jenn saying that she had opened the door downstairs for a split second and Indy went sprinting out.  It took a team of people in the neighborhood to finally catch her.  That was Indy.  If she wanted to do something, she was doing it.

Her new nickname became "punk dig".  The punk part because when you tried to tell her what to do, she would huff or snort at you.  The dig part was in reference to the fact that she tried to dig through everything in the apartment.  She dug into the floor, the couch, the bed.  She was always attempting to escape the apartment when one of us opened the door.  She was not a big fan of city life.  One year on the fourth of July, she was spooked by the fireworks.  The fireworks display was shot off behind the art museum, so we were only a few blocks away from it.  In fact, you could sit in our living room and have the best seat in town to watch the display.  Indy wasn't having it.  She never liked loud noises, unless they were coming from her mouth.  She sprinted down the stairs and jumped on to my lap as I sat on the couch.  And then...

This was the first time it happened, but it wouldn't be the last.  If Indy got overexcited, she would channel her inner-Stan, seek out her daddy, jump on him and vomit on him.  Jenn found this endlessly amusing.  Me, not so much.

After Jenn and I got married, we got a house in the suburbs (that is what your supposed to do after you get married, right?).  We made sure that it had a big yard for Indy so she could run around like crazy.  Naturally, Indy sprinted around the yard and then immediately tried to burrow under the fence to go run elsewhere.  No one was going to tell the "punk dig" where she could and couldn't run.  Her new nickname became "the Queen of Pomerania".  She trotted around like she was royalty.  When she got up in the morning, she had this extensive stretching routine that had to be fully completed before she would eat her breakfast.  It was all very regal.

Indy always scared us with how intelligent she was.  Not that she ever used those brains for good.  More often than not she was plotting how to outsmart us.  Jenn and Indy used to battle over who was in charge in the house (I was always a distant third).  Indy somehow always knew what day of the week it was.  When Jenn and I got ready for work in the morning, Indy would watch us but not give us too much grief.  But if we got up early on a Saturday or a Sunday and started to get ready, she would bark like crazy.  Where are you two going?  And don't tell me work, because I know it's the weekend!  If one or both of us was going on a trip, we would try and quietly grab the luggage, but Indy would start freaking out.  There was no getting anything by her.

It was always difficult being away from Indy.  When Jenn and I went on vacation, we kept her at a kennel where they would send you an e-mail about midway through her stay letting you know how she was doing.  The e-mail would always be glowing (we knew better), but it was comforting knowing that she was okay while we were gone.  If I was out of town, Jenn would text me a picture of Indy saying good night.  She had become a part of my everyday life, whether she was in the same room with me or a thousand miles away.

Jenn always knew how close I was with Indy, so in recent years she became concerned.  Indy was getting older.  There were no more wild sprints around the yard, only some jogging around, usually followed by some rolling around in the grass.  We got the impression that her eyesight might not be as good as it once was.  She used to always leap up on to our bed, but now there were times when she needed us to help her up on to the bed.  One day I brought her to the vet for some tests and for a dental examination.  When I picked her up, the vet told me that she had removed 16 of Indy's teeth.  I barely made it home without crying.  I didn't even know this poor dog had 16 teeth total.  (Note: The vet later explained to me that Indy had about 32 teeth and that teeth issues in smaller breeds were common.)  We had given her treats that were supposed to be good for her teeth, but she wasn't overly fond of them.  The Queen had eating habits more in line with her father.  If it was good for her, she was suspicious of it and tended not to eat it.  And she seemed to know which ones were the healthy treats.  Even if Indy was getting older and not eating healthy, I could bank on one thing.  I explained to Jenn that there was nothing to worry about.  The Queen of Pomerania was immortal, she had inside her blood of kings.

Over the last six months, I had to bring Indy to the vet more frequently.  Every now and then she would have a seizure, which really freaked me out.  The vet would diagnose Indy the same way my doctor would diagnose me: everything seems to be fine.  She had developed a little bit of a cough, but the vet didn't seem too concerned.  I would need to start giving her preventative medicine though (some to ward off potential heart problems, some to ward off potential kidney problems), twice a day, every day.  Indy resisted at first, but I think she eventually understood my sense of urgency about the medicine.  We developed a routine.  When I got ready in the morning, she did her stretching, then she had to take her medicine, and then I'd give her breakfast.  Same deal with dinner, medicine first.  It only took 13 and a half years, but I had finally trained her to do something.

Around New Year's, I began to deal with the reality that I didn't have much time left with Indy.  I felt pretty certain that 2016 was going to be my last year with her.  Jenn would go to bed and I'd stay downstairs with Indy, petting her and trying to deal with my grief in advance.  I was going to be prepared.  If Indy's health took a turn for the worse, I was going to be strong enough to make the decision my parents had 25 years ago with Mindy.  When I celebrated my birthday last month, my wish was that if this was Indy's last year with me, that she not suffer at all.

March began with Jenn in Asia for about 10 days.  Towards the end of the trip, Indy began acting differently.  She had developed a pattern of having good days and bad days, so at first I thought she was just having a couple of bad days.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Her appetite would wane on bad days, but then when she felt better again, she would scarf down her food and ask for more.  I figured when Jenn got home, she'd start on the good cycle again.  Jenn texted me when her plane landed in Newark and I told her mommy was home.  She got off the couch, went over to the window, stood up with her paws on the sill and looked for her.  I don't know how she understood what I was saying, but she did.  Jenn got home and I explained that Indy wasn't feeling so great the last couple of days, but that it comes and goes.  Except this time it didn't.  Indy began refusing her medicine.  During her "good days", she only ate about half of her food.  On "bad days", it was next to nothing.  It was getting to the point where another visit to the vet seemed necessary.

This past Saturday, Jenn and I had to go to the dentist.  Jenn needed to run some errands afterwards, so I came home by myself at around 3pm.  Indy was at the top of the steps waiting for me when she heard the car pull in.  I went into the living room and tried to get her to sit on the couch with me, but she made it clear she wanted to go up to the bedroom.  After I brought her up there, she became agitated.  Her heart was racing.  I worried that a seizure might be coming on, but it never did.  When Jenn got home, the two of us sat with her on the bedroom floor, petting her and trying to calm her down.  Over the next 45 minutes, we talked about bringing her to the emergency vet as the regular vet closed at 3. Eventually Indy calmed down and decided to crawl under the bed.  Her favorite place was under our bed.  I don't know whether she liked it because it was darker under there or cooler, but when she was done hanging out with people, that is where she went to relax.  Jenn and I let her be for a bit, figuring she wanted a nap.  About two hours later, we began hearing some bad noises.  I laid on the floor to check on her and immediately I knew she was in trouble.  I called the emergency vet and let them know that we needed to bring her in.  I put my sneakers on as Jenn went to grab a jacket.  I didn't want to grab Indy as I was concerned about hurting her, so I pulled out the rug she was laying on from underneath the bed.  But when I got her out, she was already gone.

I thought I would be prepared for that moment, but I wasn't.  Not at all.  There was no hard decision to be made.  She was just gone.  Didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.  Couldn't do it.  She was too damn smart and I never wanted her to think I was giving up on her.  Nothing about it felt real.  I expected her to start breathing again.  To jump up and be like "got you guys!"  But it didn't happen.

For almost a decade and a half, Jenn and Indy have been my family.  Now half of that family is gone. She was such an important part of my life.  There has been slightly less pain each day since she passed away, but everything around me reminds me of her.  She was the one who would sit next to me on the couch watching TV when Jenn was off traveling for her job.  She was the one who would lay in bed with me for an hour or two after Jenn got up at 5:30am to get ready for work.

The last four days have been filled with tears, but those tears come from remembering all of the happiness she brought into my life.  It sucks that she's gone.  Part of me thinks that her not taking her medicine at the end was her way of saying she was ready to move on.  There was no stopping her when she set her mind to something.  

I hope that you did not suffer at the end.  And I hope that I brought you nearly as much happiness as you brought me.  Love you always Indy.

Dr. Indiana Jones

First brightened up this world: 5/5/02

Made her way to heaven: 3/19/16

Doubled Over

Workout date: 3/14/16

You may have gotten the sense from yesterday's post that I probably wasn't in the best mood as I headed to the gym on Monday night.  But in reality, the opposite was true.  After resting for most of last week, I was slowly getting closer to feeling 100%.  I was also desperate to take on a real WOD as it had been nearly a week since I had done a workout that would qualify as such.  Monday's WOD looked like it would be extremely challenging for me, so I was eager to put myself to the test.

Monday WOD:
1 round: 100 double unders, 50 air squats, 25 push press (95/65)
2 rounds: 60 double unders, 30 air squats, 15 push press (95/65)
3 rounds: 40 double unders, 20 air squats, 10 push press (95/65)

For those scoring at home, that is 6 rounds of work in total.  The most ominous aspect of the workout was all of those double unders.  My stamina during workouts with large amounts of double unders was severely lacking.  No time like the present to get some work done on that front.

Our coach for Monday's class was Aimee.  She had done this workout in 11:43.  Most human scores tended to hover around 20 minutes, with some of the better athletes finishing in the teens.  For someone like me, a time in the range of 22-25 minutes would be fantastic.  I saw no reason to scale the workout.  After all, the whole point of me doing the workout was to push myself through all 340 double unders.  The air squats and push presses would not be as much of a problem, although they were certainly not going to be pleasant once the double unders took their toll on me.  Aimee let us know that if we weren't close to finishing the first 100 double unders in 2 minutes, we should move on to the air squats.  But if we were at around 80 or so, we could finish the set.  My concern didn't lie with the first 100 double unders, but with the 240 additional reps that awaited me in rounds two through six.

There were 11 people in the 5:30 class, but we weren't lacking for space.  The wave of people either attempting Open workout 16.3 for the first time or trying to better their score from Friday were coming in at 6:30, so the eleven of us had the whole gym to work with.  And this workout didn't require a lot of space, just enough for a barbell and some room to jump rope and do air squats.  Since Aimee was coaching, the warm-up was intense and I had plenty of sweat dripping off of me before the workout even began.  When we were given a couple of minutes to hit the bathroom before starting, I took it as an opportunity to visit the paper towel rack and dry myself off.

Feeling less moist, I was ready to get going with the WOD.  Aimee got us started and I began with some decent sized sets.  I had slightly more than 50 reps done when the clock hit one minute.  I was glad to be on pace to avoid the two minute cap Aimee had established for the first round.  During the second minute, I was not as smooth with the jump rope and I was getting fatigued.  When two minutes hit, I had 86 reps.  I hadn't done all 100 under the time cap, but I was above the threshold that Aimee had given us in terms of continuing on with the full complement of first round double unders.  The last 14 reps ended up being a struggle though and I was at nearly 2:45 when I finally dropped my rope.

The air squats were supposed to be the rest in this workout (I assumed).  However, I knew that I couldn't lollygag my way through them.  I've come to a point with my workouts where I tell myself to slow down and remain calm during those elements which require skill, but on the flip side, I need to really push through those movements that don't require skill.  There is no movement more basic than the air squat, so it was time to push.  Only that wasn't much of an option.  The 100 double unders had not only left me breathing heavily, they had also done a number on my knees.  The air squats were more painful than I ever remember them being, causing me to break the 50 reps into a handful of sets.  And I wasn't exactly blazing through those sets either.  At last, I was at the barbell.  95 pound push presses couldn't be that bad, right?  They really weren't bad, but due to the fact that I was still gasping for air, I needed to break up the 25 reps into a set of 15 and 10.  When I finished round 1, I looked at the clock and saw nearly 6 minutes had already elapsed.  Not good.  The first round was about 30% of the workout, meaning I was on pace to finish in 20 minutes.  But clearly I was slowing down and the 240 double unders still remaining were going to break me down even more.

The next 60 double unders were the worst part of the workout for me.  My hope was that I could grind my way through the 60 reps, getting about 8-10 reps at a time.  And I did manage a few sets of that length.  But I was losing my ability to breathe.  I needed longer breaks between sets.  Eventually I had to squat during the breaks.  I began to notice that everyone around me was either hitting the latter stages of round two or had moved on to round three already.  I wasn't moving anywhere near the pace I had been during round one.  Forget 20 minutes.  Now I was worried about finishing in 30 minutes.  There was so much more to do, yet I was struggling to get through this part.  And round three would be a repeat of this round.  I was in a world of trouble.

I got through the 60 double unders, then tried to move through the air squats without breaking them up, but it was too painful.  Each squat took a toll on my lungs and my knees.  The only thing I could tell myself as motivation was that the push presses were next and that was the segment of the workout where I was faring best.  I completed the 30 air squats, caught my breath, then strung all 15 push presses.  Still 4 rounds to go and I was already beyond Aimee's time for the entire workout.

The double unders got no better in round three, but my mind had caught on to the fact that it was going to take me a while to get through them.  My form was getting worse as the workout went on.  Even while I was standing, my body began to instinctively double over in an effort to breathe.  Not keeping your chest up is a really easy way to ensure that you're not going to get a big set of double unders.  I knew I was wasting energy trying to do double unders with bad form, so my breaks became even longer.  I was falling further behind everyone who was still working.  I say "those who were still working" because it was around the end of this set of double unders that a handful of people in class finished their workouts.  Yes, 3+ rounds to go and others were done.

I completed my last set of 60 double unders and started to do my air squats.  When I needed a break to breathe, I was going into a squat, which meant I was wasting reps.  I began to fall onto my knees during breaks as sitting in the squat became too much work.  When the 30 air squats were done, I rested on my knees at the barbell before beginning the push presses.  I did 5 in a row, but then lost control of the barbell as I completed the 5th rep, so I dropped it to the floor.  When I was ready to go again, I took care of the final 10 reps.  The clock had long passed the 20 minute mark, but at least the last three rounds were smaller.

During the fourth round I began to consider at what point I should stop.  The 6:30 class was gathering off to the side.  Nearly everyone in my class was done.  Based on the clock on the wall, I determined that we had started this workout at about 6:00, so if I wasn't done in 30 minutes, I'd be spilling over into the next class.  I didn't want to do that, so it seemed like getting through five rounds was best.

The fourth and fifth rounds were a bit of a blur.  Very tired, couldn't breathe, struggled with my double unders.  I had a brief resurgence during the fifth round of air squats, as I got through all 20 reps unbroken.  Then I did all 10 push presses to end my workout right as the clock neared 30 minutes.  Aimee came over and asked if that was my last round.  I told her I had only completed 5 rounds, but that was fine.  She told me to keep going, encouraging all of the people who were waiting for the 6:30 class to begin to come over and help me get through the last round.  It was the pity circle of all pity circles.  And now I was feeling guilty about taking up time from their class.  Don't get me wrong, I am glad that Aimee gave me the opportunity to finish the workout, but it was hard not to be embarrassed at that point.

I remember everything about the final round.  It took me just under three and a half minutes to complete.  The 40 double unders were done in six sets that went 9-9-5-8-5-4.  The air squats had to be broken up into two sets of 8 and 12.  And I felt comfortable enough with the push presses that I wasn't concerned with a silly little detail like being unable to breathe.  I went from the last air squat directly to my barbell and knocked out the final 10 reps.  Final time: 33:45.

Was this an early contender for worst workout of the year?  Definitely.  But I didn't care as much about this performance as some other ones because I went into it knowing it would be brutal and that I would struggle.  I was there to get the work done and I got it done, albeit very slowly.  I need to add a lot more double under volume to my training if I'm ever going to break the cycle of finishing way behind everyone else.  (Note: The entire 6:30 class was done with this workout in 23 minutes.  So yeah, I sucked big time on this one.)  I was exhausted, drenched, and slightly embarrassed, but in the end, I was glad I showed up for this one.

Afterwards, I stuck around to cheer on the folks doing 16.3.  Then I spent a bunch of time talking with Ashley M and providing words of wisdom on all the mistakes I made when trying to get pull-ups.  Ashley is a pretty quick study in general, but by avoiding all of the stupid things I did, her form improved even more.  I have little doubt that both Ashley and her partner in crime "Megs" will soon be crushing me in almost all workouts at the gym as they are constantly there training and improving.

I ended the day doing some squats with Rachel.  I had plans of starting up a new front squat program, but I was so exhausted after the WOD that it took me nearly an hour before I felt recovered enough to do it.  Rachel was working on another back squat program, her third in a row I believe.  The first day is the "light day", so I did 6 sets of 2 reps at 215 pounds, with warm-up sets of 5 reps at 135 and 3 reps at 185.  I'm not sure whether it was the lingering effects of the 5:30 workout, the fact that I've neglected doing a squat program for a while, or a combination of both, but that weight did not feel light.  I wasn't in danger of needing to bail it, but it was a little bit of a struggle getting through those sets.  I'll be trying to do 6 sets of 3 reps at that weight on Wednesday.

Tuesday preview: Something called the Horsepower Complex, which is like the Bear Complex crossed over with snatch movements.  It's new to me too.

Hey Jealousy

Workout date: 3/11/16

Despite resting for most of last week, it still turned out to be one of the worst all-around weeks in recent memory.  I'm never a happy camper when I'm sick or injured.  After 5 nights of very little sleep due to a tender mid-section (both the front and back of me), I finally gave in and saw my doctor.  Part of the reason I hate going to the doctor is that I always get the same response back when I see the doctor.  When I lived in the city, my doctor would look at me like I was wasting her time as she informed me that she "didn't see anything wrong with me".  When I moved to the suburbs, my first doctor would always order up a batch of tests to figure out was wrong.

Me: Doc, I'm pretty sure I sprained my ankle.  
Doctor: I'm gonna need you to give a urine sample just to be sure.

After tiring of that, I decided to ask a nurse at the Paoli Hospital if she could recommend a primary care doctor.  She gave me the name of one at the hospital and I began to see him.  The few times I've visited have all gone the same way.  He enters the room with his Macbook in hand.  He asks what's wrong and I give him my symptoms.  He types them into his Macbook.  I'm assuming the program he is using is the doctor's equivalent of the Magic 8-ball, but he could be searching WebMD for all I know.  And then I get an unhelpful answer.  On this visit, I explained that because my mid-section was tender and because I roll around when I sleep, I kept waking myself up and I was exhausted.  After questions about the location and severity of the pain as well as how it was affecting me in general, the good doctor declared "it could be anything", before prescribing me some Vicodin (don't knock it till you've tried it) and sending me downstairs for blood work and a urine sample.  The next day I called to see what the extraction of all of my bodily fluids had determined, only to hear that "all the tests came back normal".  Splendid.  Thus ends the long rambling explanation of why I hate going to the doctor.

That was the story of my health last week.  Having a tougher go of it was my dog.  Indy will be 14 in May and she's reached the point in her life where she has good days and bad days.  She had more bad days than good last week, which was tough on her caretaker.  Jenn was on the other side of the world for the last week and a half, so Indy was my main companion during that time.  It was heartbreaking seeing her cough throughout the day.  There were a couple of days where she refused to eat.  I'm sure if I brought her to my doctor, he'd say everything was normal, but clearly her advanced age is affecting her.

There were other things that piled on to this bad week, but what made things harder for me was not having a release.  The gym has become the place that I go to in order to release the stresses in my life, only I couldn't do it last week because I was trying to "be good" so that I would feel better.  I knew that I'd be going on Friday no matter what because the gym would be doing Open workout 16.3.  And I knew there was a strong chance that I'd be doing the workout in its scaled form.  The 3rd week was the point last year where Dave Castro started bringing out the advanced movements like ring muscle-ups.  The next week had handstand push-ups.  Since the Open's primary purpose was now weeding out who should go to Regionals, there was virtually no chance those movements were going away (unless handstand push-ups were being replaced by handstand walks).  If anything, chances were good that more advanced movements would be added this year.  I hoped that pistols would be one of those advanced movements, as it is one of the rare things that I excel at in the gym.  But if that happened, I might actually enjoy participating in the Open.  Instead, I much prefer to cheerlead as my results leave a lot to be desired.

On Thursday night, Castro announced 16.3 from Italy.  Still wondering where all of that money in Open fees goes?  At least if you went through this last year, you're not surprised by anything HQ does.  (Note: One of the most amusing things for me to read this week was all of the comments on games.crossfit.com where people who were just doing the Open for the first time this year expressed outrage about the scoring and the programming.  Surprise!  You're a year late to the party!)  Castro went through one round of the workout before needing an oxygen tank to recover.  Once he had regained the ability to speak, he outlined the workout in words.

Open Workout 16.3
7 minute AMRAP
10 power snatches (75/55)
3 bar muscle-ups

Hey, there's a new advanced movement!  I thought that we might be done with gymnastic movements on the bar, but the only possible one remaining reared its ugly head in 16.3.  I did not have bar muscle-ups, but I've been practicing trying to get one in conjunction with my chest-to-bar pull-up practice.  I had been told that if you can get your hips to the bar, you should easily be able to get a bar muscle-up.  I had gotten the bottom of my rib cage to the bar several times, which meant I should be close to getting one.  I added "getting 1 bar muscle-up" to my top 10 goals for 2016, although I put it at #10 because it seemed the most unlikely of the 10 goals that I had come up with.

I watched the Open announcement, then I watched Sarah W and Steph M do the workout at our gym. Then I went home and watched the video giving tips for getting your first bar muscle-up.  Watched it a few times actually.  Even went on YouTube and watched various other videos that would help me scratch goal #10 off my list.  I had taken mental note of all the things I would need to do to be successful in 16.3.  And naturally, I went to the gym on Friday and failed miserably.

If the week leading up to Friday was tough, Friday night was the shitty icing on the stale cake.  Probably because I not only felt like crap for failing, but because I felt even worse about how jealous I was of all the people who got their first bar muscle-up.  12 people managed to solve the mystery of the bar muscle-up on Friday.  Some of them have practiced a lot and finally broke through.  For others, everything just clicked and they figured it out.  It was great to hear the KOP crowd go nuts time and time again as someone got their first bar muscle-up.  The whiteboard began to fill with names of folks who had taken on one of the tougher movements in Crossfit and conquered it.  It was a night where the gym was filled with lots of smiling faces.

But that made the pill that much tougher to swallow when I didn't come close to getting one.  The time and practice I had put into getting a bar muscle-up had not paid off.  In fact, the theme of time and practice not paying off has become all too common for me recently.  During my 7 minutes of 16.3, I did my 10 snatches in about 30 seconds, then spent six and a half minutes doing the movement about as incorrectly as you could do it.  At the start, I was told that I was too vertical.  By the end, I was told that I was too horizontal.  It is a rare athlete that can fail at both extremes within a 7 minute workout, but I am that athlete.  Apparently the only thing more horizontal than my form during 16.3 is my learning curve.  16.3 also proved more than ever how much I do not belong at Competitors Class.  We have a Facebook IM group for Competitors Class and before 16.3, there were 6 members who had never gotten a bar muscle-up before.  Of those six, 5 got their first bar muscle-ups during 16.3.  In fact, they all got between 3 and 10 reps during this workout.  You know who the sixth person is.

As unpleasant an experience as 16.3 was, at least I can be comforted by the fact that there are only two workouts remaining in the Open.  16.4 will either require scaling or it will be another silly workout like this one where nearly everyone gets the same score (in this case, 10 RX) if they don't have the advanced movement that is truly being tested.  16.5 will be very tough, although the last two years it has been about finishing a painful thruster-heavy workout rather than testing advanced movements.  My goal of finishing in the top 35 in the gym has pretty much gone out the window, but if I luck out and one of these two final workouts is something I can actually do, then I might be able to make a run at it.

Monday preview: After taking the weekend off to try to get back to 100%, the Monday WOD features lots and lots of double unders, air squats, and push presses.  Plus, I'll be starting a new front squat program.

Hi. It's Your Body. Yeah, You're Old.

Workout date: 3/7/16

It hasn't been one of my better weeks in terms of my health.  I had my middle of the night issues on Saturday where my ab region didn't feel wonderful.  My second attempt at 16.2 left me as a lifeless heap on the floor.  After leaving the gym, I spent the rest of the day coughing and wheezing.  Could it really get worse than that on Monday?  Never underestimate my body's ability to betray me.

It is hard for me to describe how I felt as I got ready to go to the gym Monday night other than to say that I felt off.  That was probably a good indication that I needed another day off, but I feel like I've taken a lot of days off recently and it hasn't done me a world of good.  Plus, the Open workouts were almost certainly going to be tougher than the two we had already done, so I should probably get some practice in on the movements that would likely be tested in the weeks to come.

I went to the 6:30 class for several reasons.  Taking the 6:30 class meant I could linger around afterwards at Open Strength and get in some of the practice I mentioned.  It would also allow me to cheer on some of the folks who were either doing 16.2 for the first time or were trying to improve on their score from Friday.  The WOD for Monday night was a 3RM deadlift followed by a sprint cash-out involving KB swings and burpees.  Since you need to take breaks between the sets of deadlifts, there would be ample time to root on the folks doing 16.2.

Aimee was coaching the 6:30 class, so that meant lots and lots of warm-up.  As we swung KBs and went over deadlift progressions, I noticed that my ribs were bothering me.  Did I play in a football game in the past 24 hours and not remember it?  It's been a long time since I recall having tenderness in my ribs, but it was definitely there.  Luckily we weren't doing cleans or front squats on this night.  We were doing burpees though and crashing my chest against the floor wasn't making me feel better.  I'd have to feel things out when we got to the cash-out later.

As we got ready to do the deadlift, I set up near the end where the 16.2 attempts were taking place.  I started doing my 3 rep sets and got to root on Alex, Ashley M, Stasie, and "Megs" when I was in between sets.  I did a set at 135 and 225.  Then I did a set at 275 and noticed a problem.  There was soreness in my lower back.  It wasn't like 275 was a weight where I'd lose my form and use my back to lift the weight.  My 3RM deadlift was 375.  I thought I was a couple sets away from a weight that would pose difficulty for 3 reps, but clearly I was mistaken.  After a few minutes, I put on my weight belt and did a set at 315 that was not pleasant at all.  "Megs" was giving me the thumbs up off to the side, but my response was a shake of my head in disgust.  The goal for today was to attempt a new 3RM PR at 385, but there was no way I was making it to that weight.  If I had more common sense, I would have stopped at 315.

Instead, I got through a set at 345 that felt no better than the set at 315.  Aimee told us we should be getting started on our final sets, so I stupidly put 365 on the barbell.  There was part of me that still wanted a "respectable" number for the workout and that number needed to be in the ballpark of 375.  I went to lift 365 pounds and it barely came off the ground.  Yup, that was dumb.  That final lift was only going to make me feel worse, yet I went ahead and tried it anyway.  At least I didn't become super-dopey and make a second attempt at it.  I began stripping the barbell and got ready to do the cash-out.

The cash-out was a 21-15-9 sprint of KB swings and burpees.  When I originally read this on the KOP blog, I thought the RX weights for the KB were 53/35.  I probably only read the first number.  Looking at the whiteboard in the gym, I realized it said 53/70 (Aimee always writes the weights as female/male).  I've had my share of struggles with the 53 pound KB, so the 70 pound KB would really be pushing it.  Throw in my tingly lower back and 70 pounds was no longer a consideration.  Even 53 pounds might have been pushing it, but I didn't want to go lower than that.  As I grabbed the 53 pound KB, Aimee remarked that I was going light today.  Do I go after the RX weight too much?  Hmmm...I may have developed a reputation.  I responded to Aimee's comment the most honest way I could: "I feel like crap today Aimee".  Even that might have been understating it.

The cash-out went better than expected.  The 53 pound KB was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.  It made me wish there was a KB between 53 pounds and 70 pounds that I could use, because that would likely be the proper weight for me to use in a sprint like this.  I zipped through the KB swings, then made it through about 16 burpees before slowing my pace in round one.  I got through 15 more KB swings, trying to keep up with Brian who was to my right.  I was faster than him on the KB swings, but he was faster on the burpees.  We got to the second round of burpees at the same time, which meant I would be behind going to the last round.  My burpees in round two were slower, but I tried to surge at the end of the round knowing there weren't that many reps in the last round.  I was two burpees behind Brian as I finished my second round.  I whipped through the final 9 KB swings, then tried to go all out on the final 9 burpees, but there was no catching Brian, who finished 8 seconds before me.  Despite not being able to hang with him, I was pleased with how I did.  Final time: 5:26.

I spent a while rolling out my lower back which was becoming increasingly sore.  I still wanted to get some work in at Open Strength, but the only parts of my body that felt undamaged at the moment were my arms, so I did 3 rounds of 10 reps of shoulder press using 95 pounds (wearing my weight belt for back support), then I did some push-up practice.  That was it.  I didn't press my luck with any other movements.

I am taking Tuesday off in hopes of getting my back to feel better.  If I'm being honest, it will probably require multiple days off, which will drive me nuts.  But I can't have a bad back with three Open workouts remaining.  I'd rather miss some regular WODs than miss those workouts.  So I'll need to dial it back this week.

Speaking of the Open, I ended up 30th in the gym for 16.2, leaving me in 26th place after two workouts.  And on Monday night, I got to experience more of what I enjoy most at the Open.  I didn't get to see Samson take on 16.2 for the second time, but I was glad to hear he overcame falling one rep short of round two on Friday to make it well into round two on Monday night, increasing his score by a whopping 66 reps.  The only thing that tops a performance like that is seeing people break through on a movement for the first time.  Ashley M got her first toes-to-bar on Sunday morning at Open Gym.  After destroying the scaled version of the workout on Friday night, she attempted it RX on Monday, getting 6 reps.  Then, just when it seemed like we had wrapped up 16.2 for good, Danielle started playing around with trying to get her first toes-to-bar at around 7:30 (scores must be submitted by 8:00).  Out of nowhere she got one.  Then another one.  I told her she needed to spend 4 minutes attempting 16.2 RX.  Over the next 4 minutes, she got 5 more toes-to-bar and the first rips on her hands (she was way too excited about this part).  Those 5 toes-to-bar propelled her approximately 33,000 places higher on the Crossfit Games leaderboard for 16.2.  There is nothing better in the Open than seeing an athlete accomplish something for the very first time.  Congrats to Ashley and Danielle!

Preview: Lots of rest and heating pads.  Hopefully I'll be able to get back to it before Friday, but I'm not sure at the moment when that will be.

16.2 Cough

Workout date: 3/6/16

I've had many instances where I came up with a plan for a workout only to watch it fall apart as I attempted it.  But having the plan fall apart 10 hours in advance of the workout?  Well that didn't happen too often.  I had gone to bed on Saturday night thinking that I would hit Open Gym at 11am and give 16.2 another go.  The only problem was that I was up most of the night.  For some reason I was having some mild abdominal pain that was keeping me from getting a good night's rest.  I woke up around 1am thinking that my consumption of wings, ribs, smoked sausage, pork shoulder, cornbread, and macaroni and cheese during Giulz's birthday dinner might be coming back to haunt me.  After tossing and turning for a half hour, a much more terrifying thought crossed my mind.  Wasn't this how my kidney stone episode from last year had started?  The last thing I wanted was another night in the hospital.  I immediately got up and grabbed a couple bottles of water in the hopes that some last minute over-hydration might prevent that outcome.  Eventually I was able to get some sleep.

When I woke up in the morning, I still wasn't feeling spectacular.  Was it worth going through with 16.2 again if I wasn't feeling 100%?  The stubborn side of me didn't want to wait until Monday.  What if I felt worse a day later?  As I got ready to head to the gym, I started feeling a little better.  I managed to eat an apple as I didn't want to do this workout on an empty stomach, but I didn't have a lot of confidence that I could eat more than that without angering my digestive system again.  I got in the car and kept my fingers crossed that my performance wouldn't be affected by whatever was ailing me.

I originally was going to practice some of the WODs for the Festivus Games at Open Gym, but that ended up taking a back seat to 16.2.  If I didn't improve on Friday's performance, then I figured I'd still have enough energy to take on one or two of the WODs from the competition as they tended to be on the smaller side.  I left the gym on Friday feeling like I hadn't completed a workout.  I wasn't going to leave on Sunday feeling the same way (Spoiler: I certainly left Sunday feeling like I had worked out).  Shawna was doing something similar, starting out with an Open re-do, while "Megs" and Ashley M were going to attempt 16.2 again on Monday.  Those two were going to do the two Festivus workouts I had done two weeks ago (the rowing/bench press sprint, along with the longer high pull/clean/jerk with burpees workout).  "Megs" had even come in for the scheduled WOD at 10am, setting a PR on her 3RM front squat.  It must be nice never running out of energy.

As I warmed up, Shawna and Steph C took on 16.2 again.  Both of them made it to the jump rope, but neither of them got to their barbell, so when 4 minutes was up, it was time for the next heat.  And the next heat included me.  Crap, it was time to go already.  I did get to practice doing double unders with a higher jump before my heat began and I was able to string 15 in a row before voluntarily stopping.  No need to waste all my energy during the warm-up.  Besides jumping higher during double unders, I was planning on making two other adjustments in my second attempt at 16.2.  The first was bringing over a small box next to the rig where I was doing toes-to-bar.  If I was going to do multiple sets on the high bar, there was no point in wasting energy jumping back up to it.  I could step on this box and reach the bar to begin a new set.  The other adjustment was my approach to the squat cleans.  I wanted to try and string reps from the beginning, if possible, as I felt the singles required too much time.  I needed to reset my grip every time while doing singles, with the result being a rep every 7-8 seconds on average.  That meant I needed 1:45-2:00 for the 15 cleans.  Last time around, I only had 1:26.  Of course, not botching the double unders would help matters as well.

Mike Santivasci and I made up the next heat and there was no more time for planning.  Coach Rachel was counting for me and she gave us the "3, 2, 1, go!"  As I had done on Friday, I strung my first 10 reps on the high bar.  When I got to the 8th rep, I noticed my motion was becoming less efficient.  So when I hopped off the bar, I didn't bother with taking a break and trying for another big set (possible mistake).  Just went straight to the low bar as I had done on Friday.  Time was precious and I wanted to keep moving.  The low bar still felt awkward to me, but I kept grabbing it and doing quick singles until I got to about 20 reps.  At that point, I needed to shake my arms every now and again on my way to 25 reps.  Quick time check: 1:07.  Six seconds ahead of Friday.

It was put up or shut up time.  I grabbed my rope, told myself to stay calm, and twirled the rope.  Before going into a set of double unders, I do one single under.  Somehow, I managed to hit myself with the rope on the very first single under.  Not the greatest start.  Michal and Rachel immediately told me to remain calm as I started over.  The second attempt was better.  In fact, I made it through 22 reps before hitting myself with the rope again.  Two sets later and I was at 42 reps.  I took a breath, made sure that my setup was correct and got through the final 8 reps.  Time check: 2:04.  Thirty seconds ahead of Friday.

Still believing that I needed 1:45-2:00 for the cleans, I was happy about having 1:56 left, but not overconfident that reaching round two was a done deal.  I grabbed my barbell and strung two reps.  Going for the third one felt like a mistake.  In fact, I was pretty sure that stringing any more reps would be a mistake for me as I was starting to get tired.  I've always struggled on these sprint workouts as adrenaline and panic probably get the best of me.  I was at a point now though where I knew I was capable of finishing in the remaining time.  As always, I simply needed to keep moving.  It felt like I was not getting any break between each squat clean, yet the clock was indicating that I was taking about 7-8 seconds per rep as had been the case on Friday.  I was getting set up for my 12th squat clean when I heard there was 30 seconds left.  This would be tight.

As I did the 12th rep and then the 13th, my body was telling me that I needed to stop and catch my breath.  The small crowd encouraging me on was saying otherwise.  As I approached my barbell a 14th time, Rachel yelled to me "15 seconds, you have to go!"  I was in the exact same spot that Samson was on Friday, only I knew I would be crushed if I fell one rep short.  I completed squat clean #14.  "Again, again" came the yells.  I took a second to compose myself knowing that I could not mess up this last squat clean.  I hit the bottom of the squat clean and pushed as hard as I could to stand up with it.  Success!  With only a couple of seconds to spare, I had made it to round two.

When I imagined this moment in my head, it was very triumphant.  Maybe a fist pump before going back to my bar and working my way through the toes-to-bar.  What actually transpired was very different.  I had reached the point that Rich A had reached after completing round two with seconds to spare on Friday.  He told me afterwards he had redlined, but that he had no other choice in order to finish the second round.  (Note: For those unfamiliar with redlining, it is similar to driving more than 30 miles with the low fuel light on in your car.  You might make it a little further, but it won't be long until your car starts sputtering to a stop.)  I gave it everything I had to finish round one and now my body was responding to pushing it a bit too far.  I could barely walk over to my bar.  When I got there, I needed to kneel in an attempt to breathe.  I tried standing and holding on to the rig.  Tried propping myself against the wall.  No matter what I did, my body was not taking in the oxygen it desperately needed.  30-40 seconds went by before I attempted a toes-to-bar.  I weakly flailed my feet at the bar, missing it badly.  Time to kneel again.  One minute elapsed and my score was still 90.

Everyone was trying to help me continue, but I was in bad shape.  Michal told me to get chalk, but I told her chalk wasn't going to help me breathe.  Apparently my hands were soaked with sweat and she was trying to help me get a better grip on the bar, but I was too far out of it to understand.  As the second minute of my bonus four minutes ticked away, I stood up and made another attempt at a toes-to-bar.  My kip was weak again, but I closed my shoulder as violently as I could in the hopes that I could pull my feet up to the bar with what remaining upper body strength I had left.  It worked, but it took a lot of energy just for one rep.  I got a couple more as my body began to recover slowly.  There was no chance of me getting to the jump rope, that was for certain, but I could tack on a few more reps to my score if I could just manage to stand.  I did what I could until the clock hit eight minutes.  It wasn't much of a second round, but I completed 13 toes-to-bar.  Final score: 103.

Was this an example of winning the battle, but losing the war?  I don't know.  I desperately wanted to make round two and I did, so I was pleased about that.  As for the rest?  Well, I think that is just an indication of where my cardio currently is.  I wish I could have done more with the extra 4 minutes I got, but the truth of the matter is that I was probably lucky to even get to that point.

I spent the better part of the next half hour trying to breathe normally.  That is not a misprint.  This was my first experience with something Crossfitters call "Fran cough".  Fran is a WOD made up of thrusters and pull-ups that ends up being a sprint for those proficient in both movements.  Afterwards, people have been known to have trouble breathing, developing a cough they did not have prior to the workout.  The medical term for this phenomenon is exercise-induced pulmonary edema.  You feel like there is a never-ending supply of mucus that you need to cough up.  There is a burning feeling in your lungs and a metallic taste in your mouth.  It's as wonderful as it sounds.  

I walked around the gym and the lobby trying to recover.  I sat on a bench outside for a while.  I wanted to see Kevin B and Mike C do their heat of 16.2, but I only made it in to see the very end of their workout.  Any thoughts of attempting the Festivus WODs were now out the window.  I'd be spending the rest of the day trying to get rid of my new cough.

I thought 16.2 would be a better workout for me than 16.1, but it turns out it was the other way around.  I ended up 24th in the gym for 16.1.  I'll likely end up in the range of 30th-35th place for 16.2.  The good news?  I'm probably done with gymnastic movements on the bar for this year's Open unless bar muscle-ups come along, but I can't do those anyway.  The bad news?  With handstand push-ups and ring muscle-ups on the way, I will most likely be doing the scaled workouts.  Since that puts me behind all of the RX folks, I will really need to knock it out of the park to have a shot at staying in the top 35 in the gym by the end of the Open.

Monday preview: 3RM deadlift and a sprint cash-out involving KB swings and burpees.