Play Hard and Punish Yourself for It.

    One of my most hateful moves that we do in Crossfit are the dreaded Goblet squats of hell and hatred. Whenever I see them included in our strength training I immediately regret my choice in going to the gym. Doesn't matter what size KB I use (though I'll admit, I usually go for the 12 kg instead of the 16 on goblet squatting days) I can't seem to get through them without cursing anyone and everyone in my radius. Which is why I'm starting to think I am a swimming sadist to my own masochist self! 

    In my last post, I declared that I wanted to try swimming a mile, 105 laps in my grandmas pool. Since then, I have actually done this 3 whole times, and let me tell you, it is no joke. The first time I did it with my tried and trusted companion, Molly. At about lap 45, we both looked at each other simultaneously and said, "This is really boring." So I suggested that at lap 50 we do some KB runs, a move I think I invented (though I have no patent or trademark, obviously) where you have to run back and forth across the shallow end, keeping the 16 kg KB above the water. While this broke up the 105 it was still a monotonous endeavor and afterwards, I was EXHAUSTED! I looked like a cat dragged out from a sewer after mewing around lost for an hour. 

   The second attempt was solo and I broke it up:

10 Rounds:

10 laps

10 pushups/KB swings (alternating)

Then at 50 did 20 figure eights where you basically throw the KB around your waist in a sincere attempt to melt away your muffin top and break all of your toes. For whatever reason it took me a whole hour. I was a pruney mess by the time I got out of the pool! But I must say, not as tired as I had been the time before. 

   Now I must admit something here before I go any further. Remembering my anti-athlete ways, I really love to have a good time. This summer especially, it seems every weekend I've been flying off to one place or another and drinking my way through it. When I come back to my senses (usually Monday morning) I feel so awful about the way I've treated my body that I feel I deserve some sort of awful punishment. I think that's where the idea for today's workout came from. Luckily for her, Molly got to do it with me. 

10 Rounds:

10 laps

10 Goblet Squats

5 laps to finish the mile

   That's right, I forced myself to do 100 goblet squats. And with the 16kg being the only KB available, there was nowhere for my poor lil gluteus maximus to hide. I was exhausted and promptly came home to eat a bag of M&Ms....a girl can only change so much. 

   Maybe one day I'll learn to balance work and play, keeping them both at happy mediums. But for now it seems I'll have to keep on the trend of doing both to the extreme, a counter balance of play and punishment....

     ....though they do both feel pretty good ;) 

Do you sweat while you're swimming?

Alright- I think I've done it. After being home for approximately 22 days now, I have finally decided and settled on the kind of workouts that are working for me in this summer time away from my gym hiatus. As some of you may remember, the garage was too buggy, my bedroom farrrrrrrr too small and hot, and the whole traveling to a gym thing would end up costing me more financially than the calories it would burn. My grandma's pool across the street however? Well that seems to be juuuuuust right :)
   Over the past few weeks I've been experimenting with my swim WODs, going for yardage swam vs rounds 5-10-15 of various body weight exercises on the concrete beside it. The only real hiccup I've encountered has been the onslaught of green flies that come to attack as soon as my wet body hits the humid air, causing me to have to interrupt my pushups or squats to jump into the pool for safety. Also, and most obviously, a lack of equipment means I can't do much besides body weight movements- not a bad thing by any sense of the imagination but it can get to be a bit repetitive after awhile.
    On Sunday morning, a few hours before our much anticipated evening with Bob Dylan in Saratoga, I once again recruited Molly to do a workout with me. "We have to look our best for Dylan and give ourselves an excuse to drink a bottle of whiskey," I reasoned, and with that sort of justification, who could really say no?
   
5 Rounds:
  6 laps (100 yards)
  20 pool muscle ups
  15 sqats
  10 pushups

I'm pretty sure it took us about 25 minutes, but I quickly gave up timing these water-based WODs after almost water clogging my ipod touch while simultaneously drying out the marker for my grandmas portable white board....note to self and everyone else, chlorine dries out markers.
   As you can imagine, these workouts kick my ass! Not only in testing my physical toughness, but this isn't like doing burpees on a dry mat.  In undertaking these calorie crushers there is a serious risk that I will swallow enough chlorinated water to either kill myself or, perhaps more likely, drown. Because of these added hazards and my anti-athlete- rather be safe than sorry attitude, I realize that I may be making these workouts too easy for myself. Until today I wasn't exactly sure what to do about that.
  But this morning when I woke up, I realized that it had been a fortnight since I did a good Kettle Bell swing, and I gotta tell ya, as weird as it may be, I missed them! So, with book and bathing suit in hand, I walked the 500 meters across the street to my grandmother's house with my 16 kg KB swinging at my side. This was a workout in itself. I planted it on the lawn at the side of the pool and when my 87 year old grandma came down, doing her sweep for bugs or any other abnormalities, I watched from my lawn chair as she tried to pick up that KB to move it to a more aesthetically pleasing area. "What is this thing?!" she asked, about to blame the lawn mower men or my mother.
   "It's a KB, I'm going to use it for my workout."
   "It's heavy!"
   "I'll put it away when I'm finished, I promise," I said, though to be honest I was not looking forward to picking that baby back up and walking it across the street again, this time in a post-workout coma.
   Anyway, after doing some simple math (and then asking Chad to make sure I had the right figures, which I didn't) I found that with a 50 ft pool, I'd have to do 105 laps to swim a mile. That seemed like quite an undertaking for a day such as this one, so I again went with my 5 round program, a number that for some reason seems not only doable but adequate.
 
 5 Rounds:
10 laps (500 ft)
15 KB swings
Then a 5 lap cool down just to make sure I'd actually swam half a mile.

It was tough, but I mixed up my swim styles, using flippers and a kickboard for a couple rounds to keep my glutes in working order and alternating between free style and the breast stroke to keep myself from getting bored.  And the biggest fear I always have when using a KB (that it will fly out of my hands and do irreversible damage to anyone or thing in its trajectory) didn't prove to be an issue at all! Chlorinated water it seems, does not only dry out your markers, but keeps your hands from being slippery as well!
  Which leads me to my final question: do you actually sweat while you're swimming? I know I'm getting a good workout- my heart is pounding, my muscles are tired- but it's not the same kind of exhaustion I feel after working out at the gym. And because of that, it's not the same feeling of accomplishment. I'm not dying of heat exhaustion, my face is not red and nearly unrecognizable, so is the workout as effective?
  Before the week ends I want to do a mile swim, but I'm not sure whether I should try and do it for time or keep working in my pool side moves. And if any of you fine people out there have any suggestions for my inbetweeners it'd be greatly appreciated. Best part? My grandma let me store the KB in the shed for daily use! It really is the little things....
 

Sweating with Friends

Last night I dreamt that I was back in Prague, and like most dreams do, I was switching between two places; the beer garden and the Crossfit Committed gym. I was throwing back beers as expertly as I was throwing up my hang cleans, and in each case, I felt incredibly happy. Talk about two sides of my personality...
   Over the past few weeks I have been doing my darndest to keep up with what was once an intense and rigorous fitness regime. I've gone to classes, done tapes, I've even written my own workouts and kept track of my times in a Jurassic Park notebook I brought from across the pond. But there is just something missing.  Perhaps it's the fact that I don't have all my fellow Crossfitters to compare muscles with after class, or anyone to split protein shakes with, but I really think the thing I'm battling most is that daily, scheduled, friend filled routine.
   So when our family friend Lisa asked if I wanted to try a TRX class last week, I readily said yes. Not only was I hoping to fill that missing link, but I thought maybe the TRX would effectively turn me into a TREX- after all, why would the names be so similar? But while I had fun and Lisa was super cool as always, the workout just wasn't for me. All those straps made me nervous, and I am just not coordinated enough to loop my foot through a low hanging handle and then lunge forward while keeping up some sort of tempo. Not to mention the fact that at the end of the hour, I was barely sweating---I've found that I like my workouts to leave me gasping for breath on the floor, not jogging to the car to burn a couple extra calories.
   But the instructor said that the toughest course she teaches is the TRX/Bootcamp combo class, so a couple days later I dragged my friend Molly along, again hoping for a duo sense of camaraderie and badassedness. First things first, the class was PACKED, and I worried she'd ask us newbies to hit the high road and bootcamp our way home. Instead, she split us into 3 groups where we each did certain movements either on the TRX or floor for 45 seconds a piece. And guess what? By the end, I was sweating like a stuck pig! We did pushups, lunges, TRX pistols (much nicer than the xfit killer ones) squat thrusts (which I still can't do no matter how old I am) and, much to my dismay, wall balls. But you know, when Molly and I climbed into the car afterward that was the first thing we talked about. And I felt for a second that mutual understanding of suffering and awfulness, combined with raging endorphins and an overall feeling of accomplishment.
   Unfortunately, there's no way that anybody can workout with me every day of the week, so while I can look forward to a couple days of ass kicking with a friend, it's going to be up to me to fill that void myself at home. And if I can raid my fridge for Rocky Road at 11:30 by myself, why can't I burn it off the same way?

Greetings from the Land of the Free and the Fat!

   Well, after a 9.5 hour plane ride and a 5 hour drive home I am back at my parents house, where the fridge is stocked with eight different kinds of ice cream, a bowl of M&Ms welcomes you at the door and the liquor cabinet is filled with all my favorite friends. Over the past few days it has become very clear to me that finding the motivation to workout won't be the biggest obstacle I'll have to overcome on my two month sabbatical, but rather, finding the willpower not to indulge in every single delicious American snack I can get my hands on. Luckily however, my parents are pretty health-conscious people and the amount of fresh fruits and veggies lying around the house are just as plentiful as all those not-so-healthy things they bought for my arrival. 

   Tuesday morning after unpacking my bags, I headed out to the garage to see what sort of equipment was available to me. As I knew there was a 16 kg kettle bell, a few dumb bells (the heaviest being 10 pounds) and a couple bars stacked with weights, ranging from about 15 to 60 pounds.

 I decided to do the workout Crossfit Committed had posted from Monday and using 30kg did 5 Rounds for Time: 5 Thrusters, 10 burpees, finishing in 7:25. But this was not without interruption. I quickly became aware of the difference between working out in a garage instead of a real gym- those  little motivational friends crawling all over you whenever you find yourself on the ground....more than once I had to stop my burpees to run outside and shake every stray hair off my skin that could have been mistaken for a spider. Terrifying. Afterwards I did 10 turkish getups with the 10 pound weight followed by 100 hollow rocks, which I convinced myself were safe as long as I didn't put any of my limbs on the ground. That afternoon I met my mom and grandma for ice cream at my favorite shop--very paleo-- then spent the evening drinking vodka with my parents and best friend, Molly. (See what I mean about this nutrition thing?!)

   Anyway, Wednesday was another day, but instead of being able to do my second workout in the insectarium, I traveled with Molly to the next town over. Unfortunately, last Friday our little area was the victim of a pretty serious flood and Molly's family suffered a lot of damage at their place of business in Fort Plain. Together she and I moved cabinets, boxes, TVs, old toys and filing cabinets to designated areas, then swept, scrubbed and mopped the walls and floors until most of the mud was gone. I'm counting that as my strength for the day. Hot, dirty and disgusting, I made my way to my grandmas house, across the street from my own. She's got a big 50 ft lap pool in her backyard and after sunning for a bit, I jumped in to do laps. 

   Now when I was a kid, I loved to swim, as any kid does, but as I got older and swimming became more of a way to exercise than a way to have fun, I stopped enjoying it as much. My mom is a pretty amazing athlete and I'd sit on the side and watch her swim 50, 75, 100 laps a day, then get out and ask me how many I was going to do. Sometimes I'd get to 30, but by the time I hit 10 I'd be so bored and tired of swimming back and forth, back and forth, that it was hard to motivate myself to continue. So yesterday, I decided to switch things up. Every 250 ft (or 5 laps) I got out and did 20 squats, then dove back in for another 5 and 20. I stopped at 1000 ft and 80 squats, but finished in under 15 minutes. And guess what? No boredom! I can only imagine how I must have looked in my little bikini, jumping in and out of the pool and then squatting for no particularly good reason on the cement beside it, but luckily we're pretty closed off in this area of New York and the only risk of onlookers are our Amish neighbors. 

   Today is the 4th of July and to celebrate I'm hoping to do another pre-made swim workout...I'm also going to eat a lot of guacamole, jello-shots and gin and tonics. Life is all about balance, right? Until next time, here's a video of my new trainer, Locksley, urging me to stop watching TV and workout!

   

   

A little history.....3-2-1, Go!

    I am not a natural-born athlete. In fact, I'm quite the opposite. In 2nd grade I played soccer, but my dad was the coach and if I wasn't picking flowers in the field while the ball and players ran around me, I was readily volunteering to sit the quarter out in favor of drinking gatorade and juice boxes on the bench. Freshman year of high school I joined the cross-country team and ironically, was awarded the title of most "committed" member, due to the fact that I never actually quit a race, unlike the rest of my team. I finished every single one, dead last, usually carrying in the cones so that I wouldn't have to go back out there afterwards. Most of the time, the other schools had already left by the time I crossed the finish line. The next year, I did not include my name on the team roster, opting for drama club, select choir and national honor society instead. These things made me happy, sweating did not.
    College was not much different. I lived in a house of female athletes and would go with them to the gym sometimes, or run around the loop that surrounded our school. I would lift weights and do crunches, hoping to go down a few jean sizes or feel better about the burger and fries I'd downed in the dining hall. But it was always easy for me to make excuses---I have to study, I'm tired, my stomach hurts---and lay in bed instead of going to the gym. I was ok with that.
    Then, in January of 2011, I moved to Prague, Czech Republic, and found that I didn't need to go to the gym. Lack of funds made going without meals rather easy, and without a car I found myself walking over cobble stoned streets, miles and miles to wherever I needed to go. I got my kicks from walking up the escalators and charging up the hill I lived at the top of. I got skinny in a most unhealthy way but being skinny was the only reason I'd ever found for needing to workout and so, I eliminated it all together.
    Of course, that kind of lifestyle doesn't leave you skinny forever, and a year later I noticed my body changing back to the way it was before I became Europeanized. I started "running" again, crunches, a few pushups here and there. You can imagine the results.
    Then, in September 2012, I walked into a little gym called Crossfit Committed, based in Prague, owned by an American by the name of Joey. Not only was I terrified, but I had no real thoughts of actually becoming a member. I was there to get Bretton Buehler, my roommate and very good friend, to shut up. He'd been going to the gym for about 3 months and since then, had not stopped talking about it. "When are you going to go to Crossfit?" he'd inevitably ask every time I walked in.
    "Bretton," I'd retort. "I am not an athlete. There is no part of me that wants to do 50 pull ups in one day, or 100 squats, or put 25 kilos above my head."
    "Just try it," he'd say.
   "I'm very happy with the way I look. I do my own thing," I'd say. "I run and do ab stuff."
   "It doesn't count if you do it while you're watching the Kardashians."
   A few mornings later, I must have woken up in an incredibly motivated mood because he convinced me to sign up for an intro. Friday evening at 5 o'clock. But, Friday at noon, a friend called me up and an impromptu trip to the bar left me in no way capable of making it to the gym. I thought my Crossfit days were over. Fast forward a few weeks to the beer garden. A new friend I'd met, an American named Anne, had also been convinced my Buehler to try the intro. She too, had been too drunk to go. Over that nights beers, we decided to tackle the intro together. Even if we hate it, we thought, and never go again, it's still a good one time workout.
    The intro was a 500 meter row, then 21-15-9 of squats, kettlebell swings and sit ups and finished up with another 500 meter row. To say the least, I was not only incapable of doing some of those very simple movements correctly, but the workout left me unable to walk down the metro stairs to get back to my house. My legs were jelly! But I did feel a sense of accomplishment, that I had overcome something, defeated it. On that metro ride home, Anne and I decided to sign up for classes twice a week. We had drunk the kool-aid.
    Fast forward 9 months later. I feel better in both my mind and body than I ever have before. I feel strong, capable, proud of myself. At school, I'm the resident change the water tank because I'm the only one of my colleagues strong enough to pick it up and install it. I ran a mud race, conquering my fear of splinters and broken fingers. Despite having moved to Prague a vegetarian, I now live off of bacon and naked burgers.  And, instead of hurrying home from work to go to the bar, I'm hurrying home to get to Crossfit on time. On top of all that, I have made the most amazing friends. You never know what suffering and sweating through a really tough workout with a bunch of people working for the same thing can do to strengthen the bonds between you. And I'm pretty sure that anyone you talk to who has done Crossfit will tell you that the sense of community, where everyone is cheering you on whether you're the fastest or the slowest, is one of the things that makes it so special.
    So, why am I telling you all this? Why am I starting a blog now, instead of when I started 9 months ago, or when I started to see results a couple months after that? Because now, for the first time since starting Crossfit, I am going home. And this isn't just an easy 2 week vacation, I will be back in my parents house in upstate New York for two whole months, with the nearest Crossfit gym a good hour from my small town. Without that community, without those people to cheer me on, I'm a bit worried that all I've worked for will go away. There's no part of me that wants to stop and so, I'm going to try and do this by myself this summer. Armed with one kettlebell, a jump rope, and some free weights waiting for me at my parents house, I'm going to work out on my own, with no motivation save what I can yell at myself in my own head, and hopefully, the thought of keeping up with this blog.
   Will I do it? Can I improve and get stronger on my own? Or will I go back to my sorry old anti-athlete ways? Well friends, stay tuned.