I pry open my eyes and peer over at the clock. 4:05 a.m. Fifteen minutes 'til the alarm goes off. It's still pitch black. No sense in abandoning my warm bed just yet. I close my eyes.
I roll over and look at the clock again. 5:13 a.m.
SHIT. I'd dozed off, and I hadn't set the alarm. Class had already started.
I weighed my options. The penalty for arriving more than 5 minutes late for class at CrossFit Palo Alto is 20 burpees. I wouldn't have to do any of 'em -- or whatever crazy metcon Tim had up his sleeve -- if I just pulled the covers up over my head. Plus, I knew we were scheduled to practice ring dips today -- something I could always do later in my garage. Most tempting of all: If I skipped class, I'd get another hour-and-a-half of sleep before having to rouse the kids for school.
On the other hand, I hate missing class. HATE. IT. Missing class means I go into withdrawal and pretty much turn into a raging butthole.
My decision -- after the jump.
It took only a second to decide. I vaulted out of bed, pulled on my gym shorts and shoes, flew out the door, and broke some speeding laws.
I stumbled into the gym 10 minutes after waking up. The bright lights made me wince. So did the burpees.
"If I were you, I wouldn't have showed up," Bob said, laughing. He pointed to the whiteboard.
- 800-meter run
- 21 push jerks (95lbs)
- 1K row
- 21 push jerks (95lbs)
Screw it. I chose to do this.
That's not to say I relished the thought of doing this workout. But the 800-meter run wasn't terrible (despite the fact that a cluster of us missed the turnaround marker in the dark and kept running down the street). And even after huffing and puffing my way back to the gym, I had enough oomph in me to jerk the barbell overhead 21 times without too much trouble.
But my rowing sucked (as usual). My form was awful, my stroke rate was pathetic, and my legs were fried. At one point, I shut my eyes, hoping that by the time I peeled open my eyelids, I'd be closing in on the 1,000-meter mark. Didn't happen. After what felt like an eternity of cranking on that flywheel, I peeked at the display -- only to discover that I hadn't even hit 500 meters yet.
The only thing I liked about this morning's 1K row? It wasn't a 2K row.
Given how much the row destroyed me, I was pleasantly surprised by how smoothly the final round of push jerks went. Once I decided to ignore the burning, cramping sensation in my legs, I managed to find a rhythm and quickly reeled off a dozen jerks before having to dump the bar. Nine reps later, I was done.
Result: 12:26 as RXed.
Of course, my Friday wasn't complete without the programmed strength workout. So after the requisite post-class CoffeeWOD, I went home, fixed breakfast for the kids, and practiced weighted ring dips in the garage. I matched my previous PR -- but I'm chalking it up to the ergogenic effects of the coffee I'd just ingested.
Ah, coffee. You make everything better.