CrossFit Sectionals 2011 - Workout #1

Anyone who knows me knows that I am an advocate of CrossFit. I slip it into about every conversation I have. I try to recruit people to CrossFit every day, even if I’ve just met them. I love it.

I also hate it.

With the arrival of spring comes the arrival of the CrossFit Games, which is separated into 3 parts (now, I’m explaining this with very little knowledge of the games, so it’s very probable that this information is incorrect): sectionals, regionals, and the Games.

Right now, sectionals are taking place. The Games website posts one workout a week for 6 weeks, and each registered athlete does the workout at an affiliate gym (CrossFit Oshawa, which is obviously the best ever). The first week workout was an AMRAP 10 minutes of 30 double unders and 15 ground to overheads at 55 pounds (75lbs for men).

I was not pleased. Double unders are not easy for me. I’d never done snatches in a workout, which is what everyone was going to do to get the weight as quickly overhead as possible.

I practised. A lot. I felt pretty good about it.

That’s a lie. I was ready to throw up. But at least I was able to do SOME double unders, plus I’m fairly strong, which would make the snatches super easy.

I was aiming to do between 3 and 4 rounds.

I did 2.

Plus 30 double unders and 10 snatches. So almost 3. But not 3.

M was my judge, obviously. That also meant that he couldn’t say anything to me or coach me in any way, so one of the owners of the gym took the place of my coach. If I stopped skipping, he would tell me to breathe and keep going. If I threw the weight down, he told me to pick it back up and get it overhead. You may not think that having someone yell at you would help, but it really does. I would have taken much longer rests had he not been there to keep me moving and motivated.

That’s what I love about CorssFit. No matter who you are, where you are in terms of athleticism, or where you want to be, there will ALWAYS be someone there to push you, motivate you, and encourage you.

Tonight, I’m doing the workout again. I was going to do clean and jerks, but snatches are so much faster (hahaha, I giggle every time I write that). I’ve got nothing to lose, except time. But really, I hope I don’t do even worse than I did the first time.

How embarrassing would that be?

UPDATE: I totally beat my time! Well, I at least got 3 rounds this time around. And that, for me, is good. And then I fell down. But still.

Love,

Bella

Working Girl

(I don't know what the movie "Working Girl" is about. I hope it isn't about a prostitute. That is not the image or message I am trying to convey...)

Today, I started my new job. It’s in Toronto. The Big City. I’m not a big city girl, so I’ve chosen to stay living in my small city and am commuting in every day. The most eventful part of my day thus far has been the trip in.

5:30am: Wake up after a very restless night’s sleep. Couldn’t fall asleep until midnight, and then had dreams about being late, missing trains, and puppies.

6:30am: Leave house in the rain. Awesome. Despise the rain. Drive to GO station. Don’t arrive until 6:50am because of traffic. Drive around parking lot looking for spot close to station. None to be found. Have to walk in the rain. Concerned for shoes. Forget where I parked the car.

7:00am: Get on train. It smells. Not happy. Eat breakfast that my mommy made me. Briefly consider if it is bad taste to eat on the train. Decide I don’t care because I’m starving and it’s delicious.

7:15am: More people get on train. Ew. Hate people.

7:30am: Train becomes express to Toronto. Try to read The Lincoln Lawyer. Train moving too much. Start to feel nauseous. Put book away and start to fall asleep. Desperately wish I could lie down. Briefly consider crawling into the fetal position and hugging the seat.

7:50am: Train pulls into Union Station. Try to go quickly down the stairs so to not disrupt commuters. Almost fall. Stupid heels.

8:00am: Jump onto subway. No idea if it’s the correct subway. Pray that it doesn’t take me to wherever else the subways go (I don’t know, I’m not from here).

8:03am: Almost fall when subway lurches forward. Extremely embarrassing.

8:10am: Arrive at my stop. Jump off subway. Start walking one way. Turn around and walk the other. Follow the herd of people that I assume know where they are going.

8:12am: Get lost in subway station. Cannot find the doors that lead outside. Nothing looks familiar after trial run.

8:14am: Locate doors to outside. Internally jump for joy. Maybe externally, too. Walk outside and have no idea where I am. Start walking. Eventually see my building. Another internal yet external jump for joy.

8:16am: Walk into building. Cannot locate a Tim Horton’s. Ask young security guard that is kind of hot. He tells me that it’s right across the street. Rather embarrassing.

8:20am: Get to my floor. Peer creepily through windows. No one is at reception desk. Notice that my name is above reception desk. Apparently I am supposed to be there.

Great start.

UPDATE: Since I forgot to post this last night, I have had more experiences on the train that I have felt necessary to detail.

First of all, an incredibly good looking man sat next to me. I, of course, think that he planned it and begin to fantasize about the Tiffany diamond (oh, I went to Tiffany’s today – I am sooo getting married if I get one of those babies) that he will give me after 2.5 years of dating, which all started because of our train romance.

In all actuality, he didn’t look at me once.

I also fell asleep, and at one point I know I had pursed lips. At another point, I’m sure my mouth was open (hm, maybe he DID look at me and then looked away forever…). I did, however, wake up. Suddenly. And with a gasp. I then proceeded to look at the three people around me in a daze.

Tonight, I missed my train and took the one 10 minutes later. It stopped about 3 cities away from mine. And then went out of service. Shit.

And it’s only Tuesday.

Love,

Bella

A Wake Up Call Like No Other

(I thought it would be better to pick a unoffensive picture for this post - not my original idea, but I don't want to be targeted for hate crimes or anything).

So I started this new job working with autistic kids. I didn't think that office work was where my interest laid and I wanted something more hands on and that would make a difference. I also had a momentary lapse in judgement when I thought that working with children was something that I would either a) be good at or b) enjoy.

I had visions of changing these kids' lives forever, reinventing myself and the world of autism, and making my way up the chain of social work (which I don't actually think is something that is possible to do). I was very excited on my first day. I just knew that I would be able to reach the kids in a way that no one had ever been able to and that everyone I was working with would LOVE me.

They don't understand any of my jokes. Their loss.

When I called to ask about dress code, I was told to wear jeans, sneakers, no dangly earrings, and no heels. Um, what? Earrings and heels and nice clothes are all I ever wear. I almost started hyperventilating.

Ahem. Anyway, I met the kids (who really are very adorable) - all boys from the ages of 7 to 13. To say that I was thrown into the fire on my first day would be a wild understatement. My first task? To assist the Senior Therapist in the bathroom with one of the 13 year old boys while he pooed. POOED. I had to hold his hands while he sat on the toilet. I wanted to throw up. My eyes were burning. It took all of my strength not to call my old manager and beg her for my job back.

I then shadowed another therapist while she worked with the lowest functioning kid who screamed, cried, and hit himself in the head. I wanted to do the same thing.

Don't get me wrong - it's gotten a lot better now that I know the kids better and I hide every time a bathroom run has to be made. It's still terrifying when a kid throws a tantrum (think kicking, screaming, and being restrained with desks), but I also run to the other side of the room when that occurs and hide behind the other children.

One of the more entertaining parts of this job is when they are in gym class. I say the following with all of the love and respect that I have for these kids (which is a lot, honestly - I do love those children). It is hilarious. One sits there hitting a ball and yelling. Another is running in circles by himself. Yet another is sitting on the bench clapping to no one. I want to film it. It's amazing.

Okay, seriously, these are genuinely fantastic kids. They're affectionate and so much fun (even if they don't realize it). I get cuddles from them daily and children really do say the darndest things. I'm just not cut out to be a person of authority for any kid because I end up at their level, which usually involves telling jokes about farting. And I'm certainly not cut out to be a person of authority for children with special needs because I am just not qualified and I don't want to be. I don't want to push them to do things. I just want to watch them and give them high fives when they don't hit someone else.

And speaking of hitting? I was punched by a 7 year old. That little bugger was STRONG. I think I was trying to get him to pretend he was licking an ice cream cone and he really didn't want to and completely zoned out. So I, using my amazing abilities that I'd picked up in 3 days on the job, tried to bring him back to earth by getting him to repeat my sentence of "hip hip". He yelled out "hooray", jumped up, and socked me in the head. My glasses fell off for Christ's sake. Did he get punished? NOPE. But I certainly took off and went to play games with the child that doesn't hit and that can actually say words.

So, to summarize: I am not cut out to look after children. I do not particularly like children. I DO however enjoy working in an office, wearing nice clothes, and not having to monitor when kids have to go to the bathroom or tell them to stop putting their food in their ears. Who would have thought? I love the kids, don't get me wrong. But doing this as a career? Hell no.

Love,

Bella