3.2.1... YOGA!

Yoga.  Yoga is not an exercise that is conducive to the CrossFitter lifestyle for oh-so-many reasons.  Serene music opposed to death metal jam.    Words like “Chaturanga” and other un-comprehendible bullshit instead of “Lift it Muther Fucker!”   “Final Savasanawhathefuck” meditation instead of laying face first in a trash can vomiting your brains out while gasping for air.  But you know what... I can be all serene and shit.  Bring it on!

Where to start??  Holy shit balls it was hot in the room, and humid as a muther fucker.  Like 120 fucking degrees.  I had ass sweat before we even started. In the class, women... women... and more women.  Skinny, bendy women wearing tight pants and tiny weenie little bras.  I REALLY was not in my element.  I immediately cased the room and assured myself I could kick the shit out of each and every one of them.  I’m talking bar fight, not WOD (first un-yogi thought).  We hadn’t even started yet and I was miserable hot, sweating in unsanitary places and ready to pick a fight with the first peaceful minded bendy bitch that looked at me.  

Of course, being the shy, wall-flower like girl I am I picked a spot in the front of the room.  Ya know why?  Because I really don’t give a fuck!  If I’m going to suck at something, I’m going to suck it BIG with pride in the front of the whole fucking room.

Within minutes I was really fucking light headed (I’m pretty sure I was sweating cerebral spinal fluid and about to die).  Then, some anorexic chick with a figure of a prepubescent boy, wearing ass tight, white pants, put her mat next to mine.  Might I just mention... note to all yoga loving babes who are reading this (very important):  DO NOT WEAR WHITE!!!.  I could see this chick’s vag and she hadn’t even started sweating yet.  Quadruple fucking EWW!  The first thought that entered my mind.  “OH my god, I’m gonna end up writing about this chick’s snatch on my blog.”  

Soon, the yogi-riffic (skinny bitch) instructor came in all happy and shit.  We all assumed “Child’s Pose” while she told us the secrets to peaceful bliss.  Then it began...

I didn’t find any part of this practice enlightening.  If anything... I was really mad.  Mad that I’m the least flexible person ever.  Mad that I was so fucking slippery I couldn’t successfully grab an appendage and maintain grip.  Mad that I’m a fucking CrossFitter (I think I’m invincible) and I’m getting my ass kicked by stretching!  Mad that my inner yogi screamed “FUCK!”  when I fell from Warrior II pose (not in my inside-voice).  

Another note to all yogis, male or female:  WASH YOUR FUCKING FEET.  It’s really fucking nasty to smell someone’s stanky feet when you’re face is all up in their shit.  I’m face down on the floor doing some stupid superman shit and this chick’s nasty bunion covered piggies we’re invading my breathing space.  Nasty shit.  

Since I’m so full of advise... BLOW YOUR FUCKING NOSE.  The last thing I want to hear when I’m all serene and shit is your booger whistling dixie while you’re performing your Darth Vader breathing.  Not cool.

Now I’m going to return to my white pants yogi friend.  It was like a train crash.  Completely horrific but I couldn’t stop staring.  Her VAGINA was right there.  Just a thin piece of white fabric which had now become see through due to excessive sweating (I think I literally just threw up my chicken kabobs from dinner).  I will never think of “Happy Baby Pose” the same ever again.  Oops... just puked again.   

Might I mention... I used to do yoga four times a week until I got a fucking life and started CROSSFIT.  (This has nothing to do with me getting my ass handed to me at yoga and NEVER excelling.  Nothing.) ;0)

OMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Deadlifts and Duct Tape

Moments into today’s WOD... panic set it.  FUCK!  I didn’t change my bra!  

I wander the house in some pathetic, non supportive boobie garment that does NADA for support.  But... there I was, attempting to run 500, with “The Girls” out of control.  Not fucking funny.  I resorted to self support - otherwise known as running holding my titties.  I have no shame.

Then the real horror set in.  Today’s WOD is deadlifts and box jumps!?!  Double fuck.  Doing a box jump with big knockers and no support is like taking a baseball to the titties with every jump.  In other words.  UNcomfortable.  AND... today is one of the few days I get to shine.  I absolutely suck at 99.8% of CrossFit... but I have a shit heavy deadlift.  That equates to me NOT sucking at this WOD.  I had to take action.  I refuse to be defeated by a large set of bosoms.

This is where I got creative.  Trying to hold my boobs and manage high box jumps wasn’t going to cut it.  I lack coordination and skill so I need all the balance I can get.  


Duct tape?  Hell ya!


Pride?  Naw.  This shit was functional.  The “straps” were a critical component for boobie control.  As you can clearly see, that alpha boobie (reference A Little Nip Tuck, Lift and Suck) is being a spiteful little bitch and eking her way out of the contraption.  In all... this was a  great solution.  Fuck vanity.    

I rocked this WOD in 6:48 

21-15-9 

185# deadlifts

20” box jumps

I should patent this shit.

Ass Scab

I wrote this a while back.  It came up during today's warm up so I had to post it.  (Shout out to Carissa!)

I’ve coined this lovely term for a special condition that is most unique to the CrossFitting experience.  All you need for your very own condition of ‘Ass Scab’ is an Abmat and dozens of sit-ups.  This pesky condition sneaks up on you... typically when you’re in the shower - when that hot water hits the fresh abrasion.  The adrenaline of the moment (shit tons of sit ups) allows the condition to go unnoticed until it’s too late.  If you’re lucky like me you’ve already developed an unsightly ass callus to defend against the Ass Scab.  (God only knows what kinky shit my massage therapist thinks I’m into.)  A fresh Ass Scab will leave you uncomfortable for days... worse case scenario, a strange gait and difficulty sitting.  

But.. it’s all worth it because beneath the unsightly chub of my muffin-top midsection I’m pretty sure there’s an eight pack of killer abs.  YEAH! 

Pathetic Little Piggies

Games WOD #5

5 ‘cleans’ 100#

10 T2B (toes to bar) 

15 wall balls - 14#

*** Side note - T2B = hang from pull-up bar and pull feet above head to touch bar simultaneously.  Sounds easy?  You fucking try it.

As many rounds as possible in 20 minutes.

Yeah, no big deal.  Right?  This was my frame of mind prior to the 5:00 pm hour of humiliation tonight (WOD time).  I kept thinking... it’s no big deal that I’ve never managed a T2B.  Everybody makes them look easy.  Just swing and get your toes to the bar.  Piece of fucking cake.  

Well, it didn’t go down that easy.  Story of my fucking CrossFit career.  Somewhere in my (once again) delusional mind I figured T2B would miraculously come to me in my moment of elite athleticism tonight.  I watched everyone closely in the workout, as if to learn via osmosis.  I simply downloaded the material via visual aide and was set to complete at least 5 rounds in my 20 minute time allotment.

I complained myself through the warm up.  I felt like ass.  In the class of 30+ people I hear the trainer single me out - “Ashley, fucking c’mon” as I lay there lifeless on the floor.  God knows if it weren’t for my monthly membership fees that guy would be over my sorry ass.  Not a great start.

After warm up we were separated into two groups, “Games Athletes” and “pathetic, scaling, newbies.”  I WAS a Games Athlete!  I even got to stand next to the two girls who weren’t going to suck at this (Shout out to Leah and Sam).  For a moment I thought that someone might pass their eyes across me standing there and actually think I belonged.  I felt GOOD!  (Notice that there is a theme of delusions of grandeur prior to humbling... ass whooping...)

I was in the second heat.  Might I mention that the trainer started the clock when I was in the bathroom.  I’m just that fucking important that he didn’t even wait for me to take my position.  I scrambled to my bar, my scoring judge (Corin) was nowhere in sight either.  Two people obviously thought I was important enough to keep an eye on!  

The five cleans were a piece of cake because I am a burly beast in the weight lifting department (in case you were doubting).  The T2B were another story.  I hung from that fucking bar... attempting time after time... watching people in the “pathetic, scaling, new-bee” class lap me, again, and again, and again.... and again.  I tried every grip, every bend.  No matter what I did my little piggies were just too pathetic to make it over head.  Corin was kind enough to view the process from a distorted angle and counted 10 reps.  But, let’s be fucking honest... If that man doesn’t make me feel good about myself, he has a sex life to lose.  Cheating seemed inconsequential.  

Vicodin with a Vodka chaser?

Less than an hour away from my third attempt at the games WOD.  Shit balls.  I’ve decided another one of my many objectives at this CrossFit sport... aim low and you’ll likely not disappoint yourself too much.  I’m shooting for one rep in today’s challenge.  It’s a clean, squat and overhead press motion with a stupid (meaning heavy) amount of weight.  I have shit bad form which leads to lumbar crunching of my spinal column.  I’m guessing I’ll walk in about 5’10” and leave somewhere around 4’2’’.  Due to last weeks pathetic performance of 5 rounds and some change I’m sitting somewhere near DFL (dead fucking last) in the competition.  Like I said.... aim low and you’ll likely NOT disappoint yourself.  

I’ll be submitting my next post from the orthopedic ward... later tonight.