Wednesday's Workout

I broke the “No-Exercise-Unless-You’ve-Slept-at-Least-6-Hours” rule this morning. My seasonal allergies kept me up coughing late into the night, and after I managed to pass out, our three-year-old woke up wailing ‘cause he couldn’t find his favorite stuffed cat -- whose name, incidentally, is “Cat.” (Creativity runs in the family.)

So when the alarm went off at 4:20 a.m. I seriously considered hitting the snooze button and rolling over. But who am I kidding? I knew I’d kick myself if I didn’t go see what crotch-punch of a workout awaited me at CrossFit Palo Alto.

Strength Skill:

• Weighted pistols (2 sets of 5, 3 sets of 3)

On the plus side, I’m able to carry successively heavier kettlebells as I crank out pistols. On the minus side, my left leg is still weaker than Don Knotts in an arm wrestling match.

Note to self: STAY TIGHT AND STOP ASS-PLANTING.

Metcon:

For time:

• 21 deadlifts (225/185)
• 21 pull-ups
• 50 double-unders
• 15 deadlifts (225/185)
• 15 pull-ups
• 50 double-unders
• 9 deadlifts (225/185)
• 9 pull-ups
• 50 double-unders

The pull-ups were fine, but even with barely one-and-a-half times my bodyweight loaded on the barbell, the high-rep deadlifts weren’t as easy as I thought they’d be. During my final set, I had to dump the bar from a standing position after each pull. I also had trouble stifling the alien-sounding exertion noises that escaped from my throat, like “HUHHerrghh-GUH!” and “aaaEEguh-OOHFF!”

And if that wasn’t bad enough, I still had 150 double-unders to crank out. Sadly, I haven’t yet overcome the mental block that forces me to crank out a single-under between each of my double-unders. (This utter lack of rhythmic ability was foreshadowed in preschool, when I repeatedly failed to clap along to the beat of “If You’re Happy And You Know It (Clap Your Hands).” ) The upshot? I wasted a crapload of time.

Result: 13:58. I’m not exactly thrilled with my plodding performance, but I’m still glad I got the chance to tackle today's WOD.

Bonus: After this morning's vicious rope lashing, I'm starting to resemble a Singaporean caught with a bottle of spray paint. Oh, well. It's about time I got in touch with my Asian roots anyway.