I don’t do porn, I do CrossFit

I think it was the third time in the weekend that I had heard the words,

“That’s what is all about, ” as I lay crumpled on the floor; my heart racing in my chest and my arms tightly embracing two other women who were both greased in sweat.

You could be mistaken for thinking I am describing a bad porn movie.

I don’t do porn.

I do CrossFit.

This weekend found me competing at Winter Slam Wild West in Gloucester.  Myself and my two teammates,  Cornetto Cerie, and Jumping Jo, signed up for the competition some months back.

Tots and Tanks - Pre workout
Tots and Tanks – Pre workout

We knew it would be a tough one, with movements like pull ups and toes to bar.  Movements the three of us had yet to master.

But we knew we had time on our side, time to train, time to become elite athletes.

Time can be a brutal mistress.

Because suddenly time sped by; Christmas came bringing her festive fun. Training stopped and cake consumption replaced.   Protein shakes were replaced by Prosecco pitchers and the elite body I was aiming for suddenly became soft and cuddly in the middle.

I thought on the day there would be others like me… People with great intentions and sod all will power.

Imagine our shock when my muffin top and I walked into the arena and everyone else had abs where I had a comfortable roll of Christmas.

This was my second shock in twelve hours.

The first had been the night before when the actual workouts had been released and the swimming workout was shared with the competitors…

Swimming WOD

A sprint swimming session followed by burpees, and air squats and more burpees.

In a swim suit.

No one wants to see a fat lass squat in a swimsuit…

Plus following my traumatic breast experience at Strength in Depth training (read it if you missed it), I had no desire to see what my ample chest would achieve when it literally fell onto the floor in an unprotected swimsuit.

To be clear – I usually wear three sports bras, at the same time.

I think the swimming shock was stronger than the abs reveal.  I can at least try to hide the muffin top in my gym clothes, swimsuits tend to be less forgiving.

God bless my team, they gave me an out. If needs be, only two people had to compete in the water, and my lovely, lovely, teamies offered to play that role.  Leaving me to burpee in squat in clothes that covered my ass and chest.  For once, humiliation was not mine….

We never went to win, we didn’t really fancy coming last, but the main thing was we turned up at Winter Slam determined to do our best.  Because, you know, God loves a trier.

Three teams represented our gym, The Athlete Centre Didcot.  3 males, 3 female masters (over 40), and us.  We had supporters age six and up, and despite our abilities being completely different we had a shared determination between us.  To simply do our best.

CrossFit

It was hard.

We watched our male team smash each event before we took to the floor.  Each event made me feel like every breath was to be my last, we forced ourselves through movements that we couldn’t master just weeks before.  We lifted heavy and squatted low, around us teams were flying up on the bar and charging through butterfly pull ups with ease.

My team?

We celebrated each painful pull – up we achieved, our eyes lit up as we watched one another finally get out toes to bar.  We didn’t win but we screamed like we had taken home Gold at the Olympics.  We supported the other teams around us.

CrossFit isn’t a sport where you want someone to do badly in order to beat their score, it is a community where everyone wants each other to succeed, to redefine their own limitations with each wod, to over achieve on previous wins.  The awesome judges motivated, cajoled, and pushed us beyond where we thought we could get.  I think ours may have realised how much we needed them!

Me: At the end of a brutal workout, this woman got me through more reps than I thought possible.
Me: At the end of a brutal workout, this woman got me through more reps than I thought possible.

Photo credit to Active Stills

When someone struggled to master a movement the crowd came behind them with a surge of emotion, screaming with joy if they achieved their aim, applauding them with respect if they didn’t quite get there but had the balls to try and try again.

I spent a lot of the weekend lifting, squatting, hanging from a bar, and standing on my hands.  I watched my friend of a decade learn how to conquer her fear of being upside down on her palms in a handstand hold because she simply had to do it in order to compete.  I cried as she fell down and I tore my lungs out when she got back up and flung herself upside down again.

#Naileditwhenitcounts
#Naileditwhenitcounts

I exhausted myself watching the men fly into the final to battle for a podium space, I did each rep with them from the side, knowing the rest of the crowd was doing the same as they supported their own gyms and their own box friends.

I took pre workout and talked the ear off anyone around me for about six hours, I may have learnt a lesson there.

I clapped till my hands were sore (or sorer considering the rips) when our Masters team took to the podium to take home third place, and I leapt from my chair, painfully, this morning when I saw following a judging clitch the night before, that our male team had also taken third place!

We came 32nd, I couldn’t be happier, prouder, I don’t think in retrospect, it would have mattered if we had finished last because we couldn’t have worked any harder, had any more fun in the process, and we gave it everything we had.

Because…

That’s what it is all about….

Emotions high after the swimming workout, words cannot describe how happy I was to not be in a swimsuit.
Emotions high after the swimming workout, words cannot describe how happy I was to not be in a swimsuit.

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