I did nothing this weekend of any interest whatsoever. I wrote a bit, I played dumb computer games, I watched old TV programs on Amazon Prime, I crocheted, I wasted a huge amount of time and should be thoroughly rested today. I’m not.

But it is Monday and that means I go to the box so that is where I was. We got there and Candace and Becca were both there and so was Todd. Ricky and I felt cheated on. Becca has to work early every other week, so they came earlier. I have no idea what Todd’s excuse was, but I assume it was work related. I don’t know why we didn’t see Cindy. Samantha was there this morning and Kim was a participant while Ryan was the coach.

Warm-up was a 400 meter run and I did that 250 or 275 or whatever by going a bit farther and through the parking lot. Then inchworm with a push-up down the mat and I was already feeling icky. I had to choke down my pre-workout banana this morning, but didn’t think too much of it. Next was hold a plank position and do a clockwise and then a counterclockwise circle. I made it about to ten o’clock and then crumpled. Next was on your back with both feet planted firmly on the floor with knees bent and pick your butt off the floor ten times, then do it with each separate leg pulled in. I had to get Ryan to get the embedded grit off my sunburn and I was itching like crazy. Then ten supermans held for at least three seconds. Finish with dislocates and passthroughs.

The WOD as written:
Metus

That was it. That was what was posted. I figured it was something CrossFit and I tried to search and came up empty. Finally, someone posted that it was Latin for fear or anxiety. Just in case you need to know, Latin for stupid is either bardus or plumbeus.

The WOD:
15 minutes to establish max effort push press
2 max effort attempts at pull-ups, ring dips, and muscle ups
Helen
3 RFT
400 meter run
21 KB swings 24/16
12 pull-ups

I managed to get to 42# push press and I made two attempts as 47# and was unable to do anything. My arm was really starting to hurt again – same old place as before. It does not appear to be shoulder related and is all triceps. I tried some of the stretches without helping.

The more I stood there with sweat dripping off my nose (I forgot to grab my sweatband), the sicker I was feeling. It started at the inchworm things and got progressively worse. I started to take my weights off the bar and burped and then I knew I needed to be outside. So that’s where I went. I stood there contemplating the adverse consequences as well as the relief when puking and taking nice deep breaths to try to calm everything down.

I got myself settled and went back inside. They were working on hanging from high rings, pulling yourself up and a controlled descent. I thought I could pass on this movement but was encouraged (I think that’s the concept) to try. I could jump myself up and Ryan suggested I be more controlled in my descent. I gave him my mean mother look. This move hurt my arm as well.

I had a 20″ box and a green band set up for pull-ups and a 15# dumbbell for the KB swings. I asked Ryan what he thought I should do to scale the reps. We decided I would do a 2/3 Helen and run (I walked) 200 meters, do 14 KB swings with my 15#  dumbbell, and 8 pull-ups band assisted. That’s what I had set up.

I ran the first 100 meters and then walked all the rest, every time. I got the 14 KB swings done but my heart rate was 165 so I had to wait. I managed three pull-ups but it was really hurting my arm and I figured if it hurt right now and I continued, it was be miserable later. I asked what to switch and I did ring rows for the rest.

I managed to get my three rounds completed in 14.02 and only had to work on heart rate stuff after the KB swings each time. I kept considering running at least part of the way, but realized that would just get my heart rate so high that I would have to rest and thereby defeat the purpose. My heart rate was not ever under 150 – well, at least when I looked.

I did not puke which seems to be medal worthy today. I have an ice pack on my arm. I guess this is success.

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