Tag Archives: fitness

Middle Aged Crossfit Failure

 

My husband is a big Groupon fan. The man loves to save money. He is always buying some sort of package deal.  A couple of weeks ago he bought a Groupon for 10 “Functional Fitness” classes at our local Crossfit gym. If you are not familiar with Crossfit, it is a meathead weight lifting and gymnastics combo for the truly insane. That is the official definition.  Anyway, these classes were supposed to be for beginners. So, I went along with the husband.  After all, we know a couple of people who LOVE Crossfit.  Here is how it worked out for me.

Day One – I breeze through my first ever Crossfit class at 44 years old. Well, I didn’t BREEZE through it exactly.  I got a touch out of breath during the burpees, and those butterfly leg, arms all the way up sit ups were no picnic. My couch pouch kept getting in the way. But I did it. I did the whole half hour class. Thirty solid minutes of sweating. I didn’t cheat with the lunges, either, even when the instructor was not looking.

As soon as I got home, I took a shower to get the gym floor dirt off of me. Did I mention the burpees? I pretty much ate the floor during those. So, I also did three loads of laundry to get the gym off of my clothes, carrying the full basket up and down the stairs with minimal tenderness in my thighs. I thought I was a warrior.

Day Two – I notice something different as soon as I get out of bed. I am walking like a brand new porn star who just filmed a gang bang flick using no lube. Walking is tough, but sitting on the toilet is impossible. I put both hands on the toilet seat and gingerly lower myself to a seated position while crossing my eyes and saying “Holy mother of fuck!”

Getting up from the toilet requires a firm hold of the door knob. I vow to myself that I will not leave the house until this pain goes away. I DO NOT want to have to touch the toilet or doorknob in a public bathroom, and with my IBS it would be a necessity at some point. I work from home so it’s doable to just not leave the house for a bit. Plus, it should only take a day or so for this soreness to go away, right? I am not a complete couch potato. I exercise a few times a week. I shouldn’t be sore for that long.

I try two Motrin with breakfast. Nothing. So, I use that “Deep Blue” essential oil I bought back when I was a sucker. I toss it in the trash as I actually feel WORSE after applying it.  Fucking snake oil.

By the end of the day, I am so tired of being in pain that I go into the bathroom and take a Tylenol #3 leftover from a dental procedure last year. I might as well have taken a Sweet Tart.  It’s like a placebo. I follow it up with vodka at dinner. Still no pain relief. I stop myself at two drinks because I don’t want to be that woman who dies from mixing a pain pill and vodka while trying to walk normally again.

Day Three – Before I get out of bed, I think that my pain should probably be better now. This is proven incorrect as soon as I move. It’s been a couple of days, right? Really?! Really?! I almost fall while getting out of bed. Walking is still challenging, and I still have to go up and down stairs while clinging to the rail and using all of my arm strength to stabilize my useless quads. Now, just to add to the fun, my lower abs and whatever those muscles are on the side of your boobs have started to hurt like a fothermucker, too.

I hobble around the house, cursing Groupon, my husband, Crossfit, and especially myself every time I have to go upstairs, which is too often. It seems like it hurts worse today than yesterday. This is just cruel. Who are these people who do Crossfit regularly? I pour myself a big glass of wine right at 5:00. It does nothing.

Day Four – My right leg is slightly better, but my left still bites me when I move. I take a hot bath, so hot that I sweat, and put Biofreeze on my thighs as soon as I get out. This makes me feel 20% better for like 30 minutes. Go me.

I finally give in and do a Google search for “horrible never-ending pain after Crossfit.” My results tell me to drink more water and “stretch it out.” Because water cures everything, right? I give the one finger salute to the computer screen and start gulping water. The only thing this does is make me have to pee even more often than I do already. So, this means I have to get on and off the toilet more often. Have I mentioned how much I hate the world right now?

Day Five – I’m finally able to sit on the toilet this morning without frantically gripping the seat and lowering myself like an 80 year-old nursing home patient. I call that a win.  It is still hell to walk down the drive way to retrieve the recycling bins, but I get it done. I got down the stairs without doing the sideways crab walk and clinging to the rail with both hands. I only had to cling with one hand. I got more than 1,000 steps in on my Fitbit. My “FUCK!” count is way down. It’s a miracle. I finally feel like I may live.

So, I paid $45 for ten classes and only used one. My husband keeps saying he is going to do another class even though he was in the same amount of pain I was in. I will never go back. I would rather say goodbye to the remainder of my $45 than pay thousands of dollars for surgery and rehabilitation after being carried out of Crossfit on a stretcher.

What about you? Are you a Crossfitter, a couch potato, or somewhere in the middle? Let me hear from you in the comment section.

 

The Working Out Chubby

Like a lot of people, I get all of my news, especially anything political or religious, from Facebook.  My friends on Facebook are always posting good, factual information for me in the form of memes.  In case you are 127 years old, or you live on the moon, a meme is a picture with some sort of message on it, usually written in sarcasm, which happens to be my native language.

Over the years, I have seen a lot of memes about the working poor.  The working poor are, well, people who work but are still poor.  My mom was one of them when I was a kid.  So, I totally understand the concept, and I feel for all of the people out there who work hard and still can’t pay their bills.  There is another, similar group of hard working people that I also feel for, mainly because I am one of them.  Friends, I am talking about the working out chubby.

You all probably know someone like this.  He could be that guy you work with who is on a soccer team.  You have been to the guy’s games, and you have seen him run his behind all over the field.  You know he plays a few nights a week.  You sit there and try to imagine how many calories he burns, and you know it is not enough.  Work friend soccer playing dude is still fat.

I knew someone like this at a gym I used to go to a few years ago.  Yes, I actually used to go to a gym.  This woman was, and hopefully still is, a Zumba instructor.  She taught 2 or 3 classes a day, with gusto.  She had the moves down.  I had a hard time keeping up with her, partially because she was great and partially because I loathe Zumba music.  Anyway, there’s no nice way to say this, Zumba lady was still in the morbidly obese range.

I’m not morbidly obese, but I am definitely overweight.  I’ve always been an exerciser.  Sometimes I hit the elliptical, and sometimes I do a Gilad episode.  No, I haven’t cut carbs out of my life or started vomiting after I eat, but I don’t exactly eat like a lumberjack either.  My IBS won’t allow it.  I am still overweight.

So, I think we need some kind of meme to raise awareness about this.  Maybe something like, “Just because I’m fat doesn’t mean I’m lazy.”  Anybody willing to design this?  We need to raise funds for liposuction or something.  My active chubby brothers and sisters need your help.

25 Minutes with Mr. Dark and Handsome

I try to spend 25 minutes every day with Mr. Dark and Handsome. I would do more, but that is about what fits in my schedule. It’s OK. My husband knows about him. I have even asked him to join us since it would be really good exercise, but he thinks that kind of thing is just silly. I disagree. There’s no reason why I should be the only one to benefit from this kind of physical activity.

 

Gilad
Gilad

Wait. Hold on. I’m not talking about a Craig’s List connection here. I’m talking about my imaginary personal trainer, Gilad. He comes into my living room every morning, and brings 4 assistants and a beautiful view of Hawaii. One time, he even had his mom on the show. She looked great, but Mama G didn’t attempt the little unitard and tights ensemble that the other females were wearing. This was an episode from 2004, back when people still wore these things to exercise classes. Oh, wait; that was 1985. At least, the Gilad girls don’t wear leg warmers. The token other guy in the class doesn’t either. Anyway, Mama Gilad had baggy pants and a Gilad t-shirt on. I can respect that, and relate.

As I mentioned, Gilad is nice to look at, for the most part, especially given the fact that he is 17 years older than me. Those of you doing the math at home, that would make him 44. Yes, I’m sure. Because I’m 27, that’s why. What teenaged son? Hush.

Anyway, he is pretty, aside from that unfortunate helmet hair, which he no doubt inherited from his mom. Gilad’s accent can be distracting, though, and I don’t imagine us talking about anything deeper than bun muscles. Just a feeling I have. So, I can’t really add him to the fake boyfriend list, See fake BF blog , but he is definitely the best imaginary personal trainer I have ever had, and the only male one.

Twinkies are also yummy.
Twinkies are also yummy.

Those of you who have seen me lately are thinking, “Wow, either your personal trainer sucks, or you must have a case of Twinkies hidden in your pantry.” It’s OK. I think the same thing whenever I see that woman with bad hair, bags under her eyes and a fat suit in the mirror. I really thought it when I saw that one HORRIBLE picture of me from a recent work function. However, I JUST STARTED working out with Gilad. Give me a couple of months and I will be halfway in shape just in time for swimsuit season to end. Uh huh. I’ve got this all planned out.

So, if you would like to borrow my personal trainer, just set your DVR to record his show on Fit TV, or whatever channel that is. You can just search for him on your cable guide, or the Internet. You could also buy his DVD’s, but who does that with all of this live streaming stuff happening. It’s not like it’s 2004 anymore.