And I am Partially CareFree

Oh my word, I smell so good…but I didn’t start out this way. Today has been a long, long day. I told myself that I was going to get Christmas shopping/wrapping done early this year but here it is 11 pm on Christmas Eve and I have just wrapped my last gift…except for the one I am going to wrap in the morning (but I am done, almost). I started off making myself to go yet another Crossfit class. I actually went online to see what the details for the workout of the day were going to be to decide if I was going to go or not. I won’t Ambien you with the details but for the overview, it read that this to be the “12 Days of Christmas” workout. It was basically all centering around picking up a barbell and doing something with it. We were to do one exercise for one rep, then the next exercise we did for two reps, the next for three, etc. Ok, I read all this and the last one was twelve reps of something painful and heavy, but I added it all up and it totaled 78 lifts. 78 barbell lifts in different versions. I’m not very good at those but I needed to burn off some Christmas cheer and pre-burn a couple of upcoming Christmas dinners; so I went.


When the instructor (Pit Beagle) started the class he explained what we were going to do. I had completely misunderstood the whole thing. Just like the song, we had to start all over after each exercise. Yep, we couldn’t move on to the fourth exercise without first going back and doing one of one, two of two, etc. Holy cow! I just stood there feeling my mind blur. It was more than I could grasp and I only took basic algebra in college so I couldn’t do the math in my head (and I am not even exactly sure how to do it on a calculator). I kept looking at the board and trying to add it up until I figured it was just best to go into it blindly, keep going until I couldn’t go any more and at some point, I would get cut off because it would be time to lock up and go home.

There was an athletic looking girl in front of me so I figured I would just copy her and try to keep up with her pace and copy her moves. It was somewhere around “four calling birds” that she flew off and left me in the dust. I was taking a breather, one of many, and when I started back she was working her way down the Christmas list. Somewhere around “6 Geese a laying” everything started taking on new meaning. I was doing everything in halves and I could hear the song in my head. “Geese a laying” became, “Jesus I’m praying” and from there:


7 Swans a Swimming - 7 Kwanza shimmies

8 Maids a Milking - 8 Made me do these

9 Ladies Dancing - 9 Laid my weights down

10 Lords a leaping - 10 Lord I’m leaving

11 Pipers Piping - 11 Joints a Popping

12 Drummers Drumming - 12 I hear angels humming



The only other thing I remember is always coming back to, “And I’m partially carefree” (I have no idea what that meant). Somewhere around “10 lords a leaping” and my “Oh Lord, I’m leaving” chant, I started to just walk out the door. Everyone was panting and moaning and taking breathing breaks (except for the girl in front of me, she was finished) and I don’t think anyone would have noticed that I was gone. It was so tempting. I took a quick look around the room and saw that I wasn’t the only one in there that looked like they were waiting on Lifeflight, so I decided to just keep going until someone sent me home…or until I finished....finished a broken man. Well that thing lasted 35-45 minutes at least. It was the longest, worst thing I have ever intentionally put myself through in my life. To be perfectly honest, I think I might have missed a round as there were still some people working after I was finished. Somewhere near the end, Pit Beagle walked by, looked at me and said, “Mark, you’re getting bigger”…best Christmas present ever!

When I climbed back into my car, red-faced, soaking wet and sounding asthmatic, I started thinking about that title: 12 Days of Christmas. No, no way...not unless it was written by the Grinch. I would have named this routine “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” because I am pretty sure you can’t really “do Christmas” while in traction or with a dislocated…body.


As I drove away from the torture chamber I tried to focus (and breathe) on the tasks at hand to make sure this day before Christmas went off as planned and that I didn’t get behind. I headed straight to my last two things on my shopping list. On the way I noticed that something in my car smelled…bad. I started thinking about it as I couldn’t identify the scent and the only thing I could think of was last Thursday’s chili run with Crockzilla in the back floorboard. I started thinking that maybe today’s warmer wet weather was bringing out the worst of some spilled chili. I pulled the car over to check. I had put the rubber floor mats in the back and I didn’t notice a spill, but I went ahead and put the floor mat in the trunk anyway. I got back into the car but the smell came back strong. I couldn’t figure out what in the world it could have been unless it was coming from the outside. I rolled the windows down and that helped which meant that it wasn’t coming from the outside. When I rolled them back up, the smell came back. Then it hit me….could it be me? No…I am not a smelly guy…am I? Yep, it was me…I was, at best, offensive. I couldn’t believe it! I think I had run out of water and had started sweating my liver. I know what liver smells like when it is cooking and this was pretty close to that. I was at the intersection where my normal, non-torture gym is located so I decided to just stay on track, run inside and take a quick shower because I just really didn’t want to run all over town as “skunk boy” and I was also afraid my car might never be the same.


The good news is that I had just the night before been given a new bottle of body wash from a friend of mine as a Christmas countdown gift; so I got to try it out. It has almond oil and shea butter and smelled like something yummy cooking in a bakery. By the time I was finished and covered with my secret weapon (world’s best smelling body lotion), I smelled delicious. I am not sure that should be the goal in a locker room but that’s what happened.

I got to my first little store and the cashier asked me, “Have you been eating Snickerdoodles? You smell like Snickerdoodles.” I told her that I had not but that I had new body wash. She asked, “They make Snickerdoodle body wash? I love Snickerdoodles!” I had to break the news to her that this was a layered thing, that I had a secret weapon and that I needed to pay and be on my way.


As I drove on to my next destination, smelling delicious, I once again noticed that the endorphins were running high and that my back and knees has zero, zero pain. I think it also had something to do with getting the blood racing all through the body. I was pain free and energized…and scented like a Snickerdoodle. I knew that the soreness was going to set in and that I would be moving on Christmas like the Tin Man on a rainy day. By the end of the day I had spent all my money plus a little bit more but I was still smelling good. I was Po-Perry.


All I know is that now, many hours have passed, this day is done, the gifts (minus one) are all wrapped, I only smell fresh and clean and rigor mortis is setting in. I think starting the day off the way I did put me into the Christmas spirit. I will confess that I usually get caught up in the secular Christmas and it is all about Santa, the tree, the gifts, etc. Today was different. This morning during my “hour of power” I thought about and called upon Baby Jesus many times. I was just praying that I got through it and that I didn’t do any permanent damage to myself, or finish after all the girls. So I guess, in a way, this morning was a bit of a religious experience and it caused me to focus on the real reason for the season. Who knew that muttering, “Sweet Baby Jesus just help me get through this” on Christmas Eve, would help a person rethink and refocus their Christmas? I am even thinking about celebrating His first miracle! After all, it is Christmas.

Merry Christmas Everybody!

And the sun will rise painting the sky
The birds will sing and dance through the air
The clouds will move and the grass will sway
It will start off as an ordinary day.
 
Then the earth will move and shake
The mountains will sink and the oceans rise
Muscle and beauty will forge into one
All will turn to gray beneath a blood soaked sun.
 
With one last heave and one last quiver
The earth will shutter like a horse after a race
All will be spent and all will be gone
The Indians were right all along.
                    
                                                       Mayan Angelou

Thinking Outside the Box

I went to the new Dollar General Store tonight over by one of my favorite Mexican restaurants. Thank goodness they built this one because the other three are at least two miles away. I went in to buy some more body wash, as my Strawberry Shortcake wash is about to run out. It was just like every other DG that I have every been to: packed shelves, a long checkout  line and a slow cashier. It was nice and new and I made my way over to the body wash section and they had it all on shelves behind plastic doors. They weren’t locked or anything but you had to lift the door up to get it to the soap (kind of like a Mexican bakery). The odd thing was that every time I lifted up the door, a loud, store-wide doorbell went off. At first I thought it was an alarm but nobody came running over. I looked around and waited for a teen manager to come over and give me the stink eye but it never happened, so I just kept on shopping/sniffing. I made sure to check each one out carefully this time to make sure they didn’t have a girly name or any kind of “cooling sensation”, and to make sure it smelled good.

I flipped open a bunch and by the end I had over-inhaled and couldn’t smell a thing. Each time I had to put one back and get another, the loud doorbell would go off. It was ridiculous and they had them behind four different doors. I had to have huffed at least ten bottles. When I finally made my choice (triple moisture something or other) I made my way up to get in the rush hour traffic cashier’s line. I couldn’t help but ask the cashier what the deal was with the doorbell. This is how smoothly that conversation went down:

Me: So, what’s the deal with the doorbell going off every time I opened the case to get out the body wash?
Cashier: That’s to let us know when someone is trying to steal something.
Me: Body Wash?
Cashier: Yeah, peoples might try to steal it.
Me: Hmm, I would have thought people might try to steal electronics, like those different kinds of chargers, or maybe batteries, cassettes or things that might fit into your pockets…maybe even candy or something more expensive like shampoo or conditioner.
Cashier: Them alarms is what lets us know if someone is going to steal something.
Me: But it’s just on the bottles of body wash…
Cashier: Yeah
Me: ...I thought that sounded like an alarm.
Cashier: Yeah, it let’s us know if somebody is going to steal something.
Me: ….(didn’t she just say that?) I wondered if someone was going to come back there and watch me pick out my soap, haha…….
Cashier:…..
Me: So, y’all have a problem with people trying to steal these big, heavy bottles of body wash?
Cashier: No, cause we’ve got alarms on them and that lets us know if somebody is trying to steal them.
Me: …but it seems like…ummmm, I mean…..a smaller thing would in your pocket…or maybe something more expensive....

It was at that point that I realized I was trying to reason with a fern and that I was fighting a losing battle, so I just told her “thank you” and went on my way. I drove off completely amused by the Fort Knox treatment of their body wash and then it hit me. It was all my fault. People have been reading my posts! That’s what this was all about. The time I used the soap with the “cooling sensation” and I tingled in all the wrong places and my latest Strawberry Shortcake episode, it was all making sense. The word has been getting around, people have been “sharing” and now people are flocking to the stores to get the coveted scented body wash. Heavily scented body wash is the new “Tickle Me Elmo”. I’ve caused a rush; body wash has gone viral and now it has to be surrounded by a Plexiglas case and an alarm. It was a proud moment for me just to bask in the knowledge  that I am finally making a difference. I am making things happen; I am moving and shaking. I’m mixing it up...I am outside of the box...and I am thinking.

I hope this doesn’t cross over into other areas of my life and start making things more difficult. I hope Julia’s Bakery doesn’t have to start putting their fudge pie behind a glass…..oh my gosh!...OMG…this just got legit!  I can’t…somehow I hadn’t even made the connection…a room full of big, protective, glass cases just for deserts…wow…the power of the pen. Now that I think about it, my gym had to knock down a wall and expand because of overcrowding. They also refer to the Crossfit gym as "the box"...oh my gosh...there's that word again.  I am thinking outside the box...coincidence?...I don't think so! Have I become the Mark Zuckerberg of the "make it a fad...make it a must-have" world? I think I might need to step back and take a few days off to think about this. I am no predictor of the future but here's a little insider trading tip for you. If I were you and I needed a crock-pot, I would go ahead and get one because pretty soon I am going to be creating a little slow-cooker magic and I doubt I will be able to keep quite about it. I'm going to have to be careful what I write about in the future. I may even have to close down this page.  I guess I should pass on a little advice here; do as I say and not as I do: Choose your words carefully people…..words have consequences…yeah.

WTJ

Where do I begin? I somehow managed to overdo it yesterday on my lack-of-sleep Monday and I think I must have walked twenty miles during the course of the day (not joke). I also went way too long without eating. I got that brain fog that comes with no blood sugar and by the end of the day, I was completely shot. This morning I expected to get up energized and ready to take on the day but something was wrong. My batteries had been in their charger but I don’t think the charger was plugged in. All I can say is that I have felt “puny” all day…just weak and puny.

I had already made the commitment that I was going to go to Crossfit tonight. I am not sure why I kept that commitment; I don’t know what I was thinking. Two words that do not belong together are “puny” and “Crossfit”. For some unknown, delusional reason (probably the blood sugar thing) I thought that a good grueling class would pull me out of my funk. My decision making skills need honing.

I hurried to class after a quick eating contest with my dad at Jason’s Deli (I won) and just kept telling myself that a good workout was what I needed. I also did a mental prayer that this class wasn’t going to be one of those crazy ones where the owner goes all  “Full Metal Jacket” on us. I didn’t pray hard enough.

I got there and Pit Beagle was standing at the entrance to greet me with his usual “Hello old man” and that made me nervous thinking that maybe he had made up the routine and was teaching the class. I am pretty sure…no, I am positive that he came up with the routine but his wife, G. I. Jenn, was teaching the class, whew, she has empathy. We warmed up and as always, I was sweating when we were finished. I looked up at the message board and read the WOD (work out of the day) and the very first thing was “handstand push-ups”. I looked at it….I knew it couldn’t really mean what it sounded like…I looked at it again (it still read the same) and I had to go inquire. I asked G.I. Jenn what in the world a handstand push-up REALLY was. She had me come over to a wall to watch. She faced the wall and then put her hands down and flipped up in to a handstand and had her feet touching the wall overhead. She then proceeded to lower her body down until her head almost touched the floor and pushed herself back up again……………….???????mmm… seriously…mmm…soooo…uuuhh…yeah. They really were just like they sounded. Handstand push-ups…I prefer to call them “how to dislocate both shoulders and fracture you neck in one simple step-ups”. I just looked at her and asked, “So what is my version going to be?” I knew instantly that for me,  handstand push-up were not happening tonight…or in my lifetime…ever…never ever ever…like ever (thank you Taylor Swift for those words of inspiration).

It took some thought and she quickly changed gears into “handi-land” and figured out what it was that I could do. She took me over to a secluded wall (thank you empathy button) and got down on the floor like she was going to do a push-up. The bottoms of her feet were up against the wall. Suddenly, she started walking her hands backwards and her feet walked up and climbed the wall until she was in a handstand position and then she walked back down. I wanted to clap when she was done as it was a bit of a Ringling Brother’s moment for me but she ruined my flashback with a question, “So, do you want to try that… now?” I know that I need to practice saying the word “no” but I haven’t done that yet and somehow a very reluctant “yes?” came out of my mouth. What was I thinking? I might as well have been jumping out of a plane because this scared the begeebees out of me. Let me just tell you right now that hoisting my gluteus extramaximus over my head is no small feat.

I did a practice run and when I was as high as I could emotionally take it, my hands were still probably a good two to three feet from the wall. I looked like I was in an earthquake; I was shaking all over. The funny thing is that there were people sitting along that wall by me, still reeling from the previous class. They watched me do my wall climb with all the steadiness of a newborn giraffe taking is first steps and they immediately got up and moved away. One guy said, “Don’t worry about it; we all had to start somewhere.” Nice.

G.I.Jenn saw how hard it was for me (and how long it took me to hoist it all up in the air) and decided that I just had to do this three times to match the ten handstand pushups everyone else was doing. I am not really sure if there is a name for what I was doing or not. I know what I call it: “Walking to Jesus” (because it scared the hell out of me).

Even though I felt like I was straight up and down when I got to the end of my Walking to Jesus’, I know I was far from being in that position. I have a feeling that I looked like I was playing some odd version of “London Bridge”. Also, as mentioned, I am not a naked guy. I hadn’t thought about it but the first thing that happened when I flipped upside down was my shirt flew down over my head. The good part to that is that since I was upside down, my ET body got to fall back into place while flashing. I’m wearing a onesie and sweatpants next class.

The countdown started and I reviewed the list. Here is what we were to do:
10 handstand push-ups (or for me, 3 WTJ’s)
20 pull-ups (assisted ones for me)
30 push-ups (best done in set of 10, trust me on this one)
40 kettlebell swings up over our heads (that’s a 30 pounder for me)
800 meter row (finally I got to sit down)
 Repeat (no rinse)

HO-LEE-COW!!!!!  ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!!

 The time started and we were off! I as out of oxygen in the first 30 seconds and I did my second set of things out of order. It wasn’t until just know that I realize I did and extra set of WTJ’s. I did that thing three times! Anyway, everyone was so far ahead of me that it was ridiculous but because of the fast pace you really don’t have time to pay attention to anyone else… I hope. When I was finished I could not even stand up straight and it was all that I could do to breathe. I couldn’t even shout out “Time!” so that it could be written up on the board. I put my kettlebell away and walked up to the front to get my keys. All the men were gone; the women were getting into their cars and I think I heard the sound of the owner’s keys jingle as it was time to lock up. This was not a stellar night for me.

That was over four hours ago and it feels like I just left. I will say that right now, my “puny feeling” is gone and I feel back to normal.  I am pretty sure that I don’t ever want to repeat tonight’s performance. It was sooooo far out of my comfort zone on so many levels. On the other hand, it didn’t kill me, I am not in the ER, and I wasn’t asked to never come back. Those are all good things right? Oh yeah, I also feel a little closer to Jesus as I talked to Him more tonight than I have in a long time.

President Me

I have decided to run for President! I am fully aware that no one has ever heard of me but I really want this job. The problem is, how do I go from a totally unknown to winning over the hearts of the majority of America? Hmmm, that’s going to take a lot of money. I personally have never really generated very much money but I have been watching and I think I have learned a few things. It’s not like I have to reinvent the wheel or anything. I can just pull the best tactics from all those who have gone before me.

 

First of all, I have to identify where the majority of voters are. I think the best starting place would be in our recent 99% movement. That’s who I want, not the 1%. I need the majority of people to vote for me. It’s really that simple. It seems the one thing that America has united on is that 99% of them don’t make enough money or think they don’t make enough money compared to the wealthy.. After all, if a person is making a few billion dollars, would they really miss just one million? Or even on a smaller scale, If a person is making a few hundred thousand dollars, would they really miss ten or twenty thousand dollars? After what I saw and read it looks like the 99% already thinks that the 1% that is ultra wealthy is the enemy. I can use that divisive tool to work for my campaign. All I have to do is continue pointing the finger at the 1% and talk about how bad they are and how I am going to stick it to them, and the 99% will have my back. I’ll be “on their side”. I will keep making that 1% look as if all their wealth came from greed and crooked underhanded deals. One thing I will never do is mention the hours of work and study that went into their careers or how long it took, sacrificing their time, energy and money to get there. I will make it look as if the 1% is the enemy and I will let my loyal 99% think that I am going after those cruel cash hoarders with everything I can muster. I will also make a promise to the 99% that I will never raise taxes on them as long as I am in office. Really, that is a pretty good start.

 

The problem is that I will need the money from the 1% to fund my campaign. I am going to have to be very creative here and use a bit of a slight of hand trick to make it work. To start with, I might just have to go outside the United States. I need to find the wealthiest people in the world and make a deal. I have to be careful in situations like this so as not to look like I am buying votes or doing the old “you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” kind of thing, but that has worked in the past and it should still work now. I also have so many special interest groups that I want to help out and I am sure that if I can get their support I will be able to pay them back, with interest. I can do that here but I will really need big money, both here and abroad and I will have to strike up some really good incentives. I believe the best way to veil this is to find out what the wealthiest people in the world are interested in. What do they invest in or what businesses do they want to start. It is with that approach that I think I can create a sweet scenario of support and payback.

 

To explain this to you (but please don’t tell anyone else my plan as it might not seem as above table as it needs to) think of something like…..an overseas million…billionaire that wants to invest in something like, I don’t know, corn farms in Brazil. With his promissory note of a few million dollars I could, in turn, promise to halt the production of corn in the United States, or cut off assistance to farmers or put a large tax on the export of our local corn, or really anything along those lines. This would mean the people who normally rely on us for corn would have to look elsewhere. I could then promise a couple of billion dollars of tax money (there will be no press coverage of this, of course) and send it to Brazil to fund the research and development to their corn crops in the name of global hunger or alternative fuel source creation, etc. Really, it could be anything but the possibilities would be endless. The return on their investment would be huge. I would have to get in on the action a little with some hidden stocks or something; I’m not stupid.

 

So with the millions to fund me I will have a platform. I will have a divisive tool by siding with the majority and pointing an angry finger at the minority. The irony is that American’s will not even stop to think that I have suddenly become one of the 1% myself. I have also, always heard that if you win the unions you win the election, so I will make sure that whatever taxes I do put out there, that anyone that belongs to a union will be exempt. That should bring a lot of votes and a few more donation dollars right here at home. The big scoop that I will have to keep a secret is that I will be doing what I call the “Double Blind Ghost Tax”. I love this and it is basically a way to tax people without them knowing it. They will never see it coming; they will never know that it is there. They won’t see it even when it is staring at them right in the face.

 

After building my campaign around taking money from the rich and giving it to others (I’ll never tell exactly what my special interest groups are but I think everyone will assume it is somehow going back to the 99%) I will then impose a string of heavy taxes on the wealthy. Americans will believe what they are told; they will believe me. Plus, I am a great speaker. The funny thing is that I will be taxing the business owners, the businesses themselves, the CEO’s, presidents, executives and all those movers and shakers that invest in the businesses. Suddenly these wealthy job creators will be missing millions of dollars from their business accounts and personal accounts because of the taxes and they will have to pay for being financially successful. Now that is a painful wound but here is the salt: those businesses can’t suddenly take a huge loss. What about their stocks that the average working person has their 401k invested in? How about their place on the stock market? None of them can afford to crash on Wall Street and all of them have a budget they have to meet for operating expenses, investments and retirement plans. The only option they will have is to either lay off workers (which will make them look even greedier and out of touch) or too slowly raise prices of goods and services.

 

Taxing those that produce is the same as taxing those who purchase. I call it “Trickle Down Taxation” and I have watched it work; it’s Finance 101. Just imagine companies like Heinz, Del Monte, Golden Flake, Betty Crocker having to raise prices just to meet budget and not show a dramatic loss that would scare away investors. Suddenly every bottle of ketchup, every can of beans, every bag of chips and every little snack cake would be a dime, a quarter, and seventy five cents higher. It would be gradual and could increase a little more every few months. No one would even remember the difference but they would notice that their fifty dollar cart of groceries now costs seventy five dollars. No one in America would ever stop and think this through. I would help to blur everything with the obvious rise in fuel costs probably being the culprit. I could always point the finger at the unrest in the Middle East. Let’s face it, if you have to import the corn to make the fuel, the price is going to be higher…right? Absolutely no one has the time to sit around and try to connect the dots. Just in case, I would make sure to pressure, through ad sales, the major television networks to back me up. They would have to write in characters and scenarios in every drama and situation comedy that made fun of anyone that might see through what I am doing. The shows would make them look like radicals or conspiracy theorist, etc. I will cover my tracks, yes indeed. The majority will love me and they will stay focused on the wealthy getting hit in the wallet and they will be happy that I am their President. They will not for one minute realize that they are paying higher prices and thus more taxes on absolutely every single item they purchase. I will be able to tax the wealthy and tax the entire working class; the money will be rolling in. My special interest groups will be making out like bandits and I will look like a hero.

 

I think I can do this whole running for President thing. I will have to have my foreign investors set my money aside for a while until my eight year reign ends and then I will be able to leave this country and live elsewhere like a king...and not have to pay all these taxes I created. I may be an unknown but I have learned from the best. All it is going to take is that first big investor who can recognize a good thing when he sees it. I’m off to Google the world’s wealthiest people and see what I can come up with. Wish me luck.

There Was Shrinkage!

You know that crackling sound that a fireplace makes when the wood is burning? I think maybe it is best when there are a few cedar logs in the mix. Did anyone by any chance hear that sound echoing across Murfreesboro yesterday? Well if you did, it was probably me..my vertebrae to be more specific. Yes, yes I went to Crossfit Rutherford again today and this time, the owner, my FORMER buddy, was teaching the class. How do I describe him….hmmm, he is like a really friendly Pit Bull and if he was a Transformer he would turn into some kind of bullet proof tank. I say that with love in my heart of course.

Yesterday's class was filled with one type of exercise. It involved a large bar (not Tiki) that we were to hoist up over our heads. I had to do my version of it and I think the owner called me the “Cleaning Jerk” while I was doing it….or something like that..maybe that was the name of the exercise; I dont' know. So while all the girls around me had their 25-45lb weights at each end of their bars, I had, well…I had the bar. We started with just getting the bar to our waist just to get a little technique in. I thought maybe that was the whole move at first as it was making me “feel the burn” but I soon learned it was just a warm-up.

We moved on to lifting the bar to our shoulders. I really felt that burn…still a warm-up. Next was the biggie, the whole enchilada, the reason we were all there. We were to take our weighted (or not) bar and in one clean move, hoist it up over our heads with our arms fully extended. We did one, then two in a row, then three, etc. until we couldn’t keep up and do anymore. Now somewhere in there is a little hop thing where your feet spread out as the bar flies over your head. Well, homie don’t hop or pick up heavy objects from off the floor so my ROM (that’s range of motion for you novices) was about half of what the others were doing. I know in that room full of competitive people that some of them had to be thinking, “Hey, Cleaning Jerk is cheating!” I felt like I needed to make some kind of announcement or something so they all wouldn’t just automatically hate me. They at least need to get to know me before they hate me…you know what I mean.

So there I was, feeling the burn, getting the stink-eye from a few people facing me and our bell rang and the “Dance of the Cleaning Jerk” began. The “one” wasn’t so bad; it got worse from there. Everyone was doing the hoist like they do in the Olympics with the little hop thing in the middle, holding their weighted bars over their heads and then slam, they would drop the bars to the floor after their reps. I did my half-granny-duck-squat version and let me tell you, it was all I could do. Apparently when the disks between your vertebrae have the thickness of Saran Wrap, you shouldn’t hoist heavy objects above your head. Thank goodness the music was loud, the grunts were in stereo and the crashing weighted bars made lots of noise. If there had been silence, everyone would have heard the snap crackle and pop of my spine and assumed the building was on fire. I would have been crushed, not emotionally, I mean physically crushed by muscular competitors running out the large garage door opening that I was blocking with my bar that I just couldn’t let go of because the floor was just too far away.

Soon it was over (for me), I got up to eleven and had to call it quits. When I got to my breaking point they told me “Ok, just go row 1000 meters and you are done!” While I was rowing it hit me that I needed to change my paperwork that I had filled out on day one. I had to list my next of kin in case of the pending emergency. I had my dad on there but I am going to replace “Charles Perry” with “Life Flight”.
All I can tell you is that when I left my heart was up in my frontal lobe but I felt so much better than I had all day. Of course, I have heard you can get a similar feeling of peace and calm right before death. I decided to stay positive.

As I was leaving, I noticed that my shirt was hanging down closer to my knees. At first I thought maybe it was from all the sweat but I am pretty sure it was the spinal compression. I know it was certainly harder to get into the car in the parking lot. I think I entered the building at 6’2” and left at 5’10”. I am almost positive about that. My pants were even longer. The stairs to get into my front door seemed so much higher and harder to climb; yes, I had definitely shrunk. Today I will go hang from something, either from my arms like a monkey or from my feet like a bat. I just can’t afford to take everything to the alterationist right now; also, my one month membership isn’t up yet. Who knows how tall I will be by the end of all this or if I’ll be needing anything more than a hospital gown? The sad part to all this is that I can't wait to go back. I hope the novelty of this wears off really soon. Dear Baby Jesus, please let the novelty of this wear off really soon; I cannot rock a hospital gown. Trust me on this one.

Hell's Portal and a Night of Firsts

I have long heard of people talking about loving Crossfit classes so when I saw a month of classes being offered at a silent auction, I nabbed it. It was a moment of temporary insanity. After a couple of weeks of feeling guilty about not cashing in on my winning bid, I decided that I had to at least give it a try.

I contacted the owner of Crossfit Rutherford to let him know and to tell him that I do have a few physical limitations. What I wanted to happen was for him to tell me that I would not be able to take the classes and that I could give them to someone else. He instead said, “No problem” and told me to come on to tonight’s class….great. I had a “red flag” right before class that should have cued me for a u-turn. I have heard that some of those classes do odd things like carrying concrete blocks, rope climbing, etc. I wanted a challenge but my goal in buying the classes was not to have the skin on my hands ripped off. I sent the owner another message asking if I would be needing to bring workout gloves. He responded with, “Only if they match your purse.” I am so glad that I didn’t lead with the hand sanitizer question.

On the way I stopped and OCD’d…I mean washed my car. Everything was in order; I was prepared. When I walked into the facility I noticed a distinct absence of a smoothie bar and there we no machines with padded seats…actually there were no seats at all…and no machines.  What kind of place was this? Couldn’t they afford any equipment? They didn’t even have carpet on the floors! The floors were concrete with some areas that had rubber mats. There were also no big screen TVs. How was I going to watch my afternoon shows while I worked out?

Fortunately, I saw an friendly face that I hadn’t seen in years. It was a realtor who had worked in my very first real estate office, Annette. It was sooooo good to see her. She was just back from being very ill and was not exactly sure if she was going to be able to make it. “Finally”, I thought, “someone to talk to while I workout.” Just as soon as we started to catch up with each other, the class leader, Todd came over and had me sign all the next-of-kin papers, in case I died in the middle of class. As it turns out, he was in my brothers very first elementary school class as a student and my brother was his teacher. There I was in a Crossfit class for the first time with the girl who worked at my first real estate office, in a class taught by my brother in his first year of teaching. It was a night of firsts. So, I signed my life away and boom, we started.

He explained what we were to do and to be honest it didn’t sound all that hard. I don’t know why it didn’t sound hard to me; I don’t do any of those exercises. I think I was in the denial phase of the night. I had to get on the one and only machine there, which was the rowing machine (how hard could that be?) and row for 400 meters. Next, I had to go over to what looked like low hung Olympic rings. I was to have my back on the floor, grasp the rings and raise myself up to the rings. It looked kind of like the way you would teach a granny to do pull ups. You only go a couple of feet off the floor and your feet stay on the ground. Piece of cake right? The next move was to do 20 push ups, going all the way to the ground and picking your hands up off the ground and then starting over. A split second rest between pushups sounded great to me. The only problem I had with it was that 20 was double my current “most pushups ever done at once” record. Last butt not least, was something that I thought I might just use to catch my breath. It was a box about two feet high. All I had to do was sit on it and get back up…20 times. I know that when I get up and down out of a chair that I use my arms to push me up and lower myself. I also know that I do 0 squats at the gym. Still, this was going to be a cake walk. He announced that we would be doing all this three times and that the entire thing would be timed….water off a duck’s back. I wasn’t sweating it at all.

We started and that rowing machine got me warmed up. It hit my legs and my shoulders. Going straight to the rings, I felt strong. I went over and got on the floor and grabbed the rings. I couldn’t believe how much effort it took to hoist myself up off the floor a couple of feet. Really gravity…could you not just cut me a little slack? To make matters worse, beside me was a beautiful college girl doing pull ups…real ones….20 of them. After a few rest periods in some white chalk dust, I finished and moved on to the push ups. There is something about picking your hands up when you hit the floor that flexes your back and makes it all just a little bit harder. Once again, 195 lbs couldn’t have felt heavier. Finally, I was off to my last chore and that was to go sit down and stand back up again. I was looking forward to the break. Funny (funny odd, not funny haha) when you are not using your arms to push yourself up from the seated position, you have to flex your leg muscles and your glutes. My lower half has nursing home muscle tone; I admit it. This little up/down routine pushed me to my limits. Nineteen, twenty, my legs were killing me and it I was done… and then it was time to start over again! Oy!

By round three, my Adam’s apple had been replaced with my heart; I could feel it. My face felt like it had a heat lamp on it and I was leaking water from head to toe. I was a human soaker hose. What was this new sensation and why didn’t I experience this at the gym every day while I workout and watch TV?

I made it thought the rowing machine but I couldn’t pick my feet up to get them out of the stirrups. I had to manually grab my feet and pick them up out of the foot holsters. I got over to the Olympic rings and all I can say is that cold concrete floor felt great. I wanted to put my face on it. I had to do my 20’s in four sets of five. “It’s all good” I told myself while doing my granny floor-pull-ups. I waddled over to the mat and did my push ups, also in small groupings and noticed that I was raining on the mat. Finally, I got to go over and do my final “sit on the box” workout and all I can say is that I felt the burn. I curse you Sir Isaac Newton…I curse you!

It was over! I made it without calling 911 and without throwing up. Those were my two main goals and I accomplished them both. I was a winner. I could feel, for the first time, every vein in my body throb in sync with my heartbeat. OMG. My friend, who had been sick for so long and who was weak, had been right at my heels the whole time. She’s a beast. I didn’t get a chance to talk to her the entire workout. Of course, if I had been given the chance, I wouldn’t have been able to speak anyway. I could almost not breathe. I had not felt like that in over 15 years. Not since my wreck had I pushed myself like that. I walked out and felt like someone had stuck a quarter in me somewhere; I was shaking all over. There wasn’t any part of me that could just be still. I can remember years ago, standing too close to the speakers at a nightclub and feeling my clothes and body shake; it was kind of like that but without the music and light show.

For the rest of the night I have just felt odd. I thought at first that something might be wrong with me but really, I think I am just relaxed. I have heard stories of endorphins but thought it was all a myth. Maybe that is what this is. I do know that rigor mortis is setting in…everywhere. Tonight I did have one lady tonight tell me that since she had been taking the classes her butt was two inches higher. That was actually a quote. I will say that I am pretty sure that when I get up in the morning, I will feel like I have had that procedure done. Of course, I am not sure that I want my backside to be two inches higher as I already have a very short waist. I wonder if there are any Crossface classes anywhere.

Yes, I have found the portal to hell and it is called Crossfit Rutherford. I am way to competitive to not go back, at least for my one month pass. It’s just that it is so….hard. Why do we do these things to ourselves? People pay for this? I know I will be paying for this tomorrow.  If I had never heard of it I would never have gone and would not be sitting here wondering who I am going to call to help get me up out of this chair. Why is that song, “If I only had a heart” running through my head and why do my feet feel like two microwave ovens on high? Oh my, tonight I might need sleep in a lift-chair, just in case...that would not be a first.