Now the gym is about 45 minutes from my house, so my commitment to working out is pretty significant. Drive time, gas money, not to mention the gym cost...yeah it all figures in there. But, the trainer at this gym is just great, and she's my friend as well as my trainer, let's call her Muscles. I know her because her son, who I'll call Stan, was in my class in 8th grade, and we stayed connected after he left. Stan is a teenager (no kidding captain obvious) and he is not above doing the teenage thing with his mother. This includes saying, "Yes mother..." repeatedly when he is annoyed with what she's telling him. Muscles is very patient, and she kinda laughs this off, but I always feel compelled to remind Stan to "be nice to his mom," when I leave the gym each day. I tell Muscles that this will improve over time, when he's around 23, she'll have the guy she raised back and they will have a great relationship again.
Anyway, back to Crossfit. Crossfit is a whole body workout that involves exercise which makes you sweat, coupled with weight training, squats, dead lifts, pull ups, push ups, jumping on boxes and a bunch of other things. It's sort of like torture, except you do it to yourself. So I suppose it might be considered sadism. Yeah, that's what it is, sadism. The thing is that it's very competitive, which always works for me. We always keep track of our times, we go against each other, and we really push each other. It's not kill or be killed competitive, but compete against yourself and try to do better competitive.
The workouts or WOD (which doesn't stand for Wrinkly Old Dudes, Felicity) Workout of the Day, are given names, like Helen, Mary, Josh, stuff like that. So each one is timed and we keep track of our times and they go up on a chart on the wall. It's cool to see your name up there with a good time, and to know that you're "gettin' 'er done" in the gym. The workouts, while you're doing them, make you feel as if you're going to die, or that you want to die, but the motto on the wall says something like, "you can rest when you die." So you just keep going and hoping that you'll make it through to the end.
When we're done we collapse on the floor (or go outside to vomit) and we leave a sweat imprint of ourselves, which we call "Sweat angels." I'm very proud of my sweat angel, because it means I really kicked butt in the workout.
This is MY sweat angel after a particularly tough workout!
Muscles is very motivational. First she's a couple of years older than me and she looks terrific! Her arms are so strong and have these awesome muscles that when she does pull ups, I feel like a total wimp. But she never is displaying her strength, rather she is encouraging us to do more and better. Muscles and her husband, who I'll refer to as Strongman, own and run this gym. It's a new venture for them and I really hope they succeed, because I am getting stronger every day, and it's because of Crossfit Spirit.
Jazzman, who doesn't believe in working out...for example when someone asked if we were runners or bike riders, he said, "She's the runner/rider, I'm the smoker." He doesn't need to exercise to stay thin because he's pretty much a beanpole anyway, and he eats whatever he wants. Jazzman's idea of exercise is to throw the ball for the dog to fetch every night and then take a couple of walks around the yard. Now, I'm NOT putting him down for this, to each his own, but I wanted you to see why Jazzman has a different view of Crossfit.
Jazzman calls my gym time Cultfit, and he thinks I'm nuts for what I do. I tell him about my workouts and he just rolls his eyes. Of course once that ab six pack starts showing up, I'm sure he'll be very impressed, or when I can bench press him repeatedly, well that's going to knock his socks off. So, I go to Crossfit, and the Jazzman indulges me, and we continue to co-exist in a peaceful world where I think exercise is essential to life, and he thinks Coffee is God.
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