On Tuesday evening I went back to Yoga Loft and did another Restorative Yoga class. It was quite different than the first one, which was as advertised. Last week, the instructor said each time was different.  We ended with this quarter-moon, banana type pose which is probably something that would benefit my disparate height. I’m shorter on one side than the other and this pose to the left was very different than when done toward the right. I suppose that means something.

I came home from class and peeked at the WOD for Wednesday. It was another hero WOD. I’m beaten. I’m crushed. I’m sore and tired and cranky. I posted something on Facebook and Kat said she was not going to be able to make it to class. The more I thought about it, the more I disliked putting myself through another hero WOD.

I looked back. The last seven WODs have all been – at least for me – well over 15 minutes of work. There have been no sweet little seven minute AMRAP things. Just laundry lists of slugging through and proving I have the stamina of Hercules and the brains of Tweedledum. I have proven that to myself and anyone else looking. I was simply too beat up to go. It is all scalable. I am not supposed to cherry pick. They are not supposed to kill me. I stayed home.

I worked on some mobilization and did absolutely nothing else. I rationalized my lapse in many ways. On Tuesday, we had gone to Fort Moultrie and walked around the historic national park for an hour and a half. It was beautiful and interesting and the ocean, as always, was both calming and invigorating.

I needed the rest and recovery. I was a mess after just 100 push-ups and so adding the pull-ups and squats made me even more of a mess. I can walk forever so that part didn’t really do anything other than eat up time. But I had already had 46 minutes of working out for the week which was enough for two days.

And I simply didn’t want to go and do another hero WOD. And I didn’t want to do another long WOD. And I stayed home and sat around and felt guilty, but not enough to go to either open gym or the noon class.

Last night was a wine tasting and it was really nice. I got to see some old friends and meet new people. I also got to catch up on some gossip, the total reason for any social occasion. I ate too much but only had one glass of pretty good wine. It was called Casanova. How romantic.

Then I had to do interval training today. I hate to run. I can’t do it well and nothing I try seems to improve the overall suckiness of the event. My heart rate is too high consistently. No matter how slowly I walk during my rest phase, my heart rate doesn’t come back down. I box breathe. I have to remember to walk even slower than a normal pace. My heart rate remains high.

After the first 30 second run my heart rate was 117 and it never got below 100 again. By the end of the third run it was over 130 and after the fourth run was never lower than 130 again. That’s two minutes of running with six minutes of not running and my heart rate was still way too high. By the seventh run, it was over 150 by the end and was still climbing for about ten seconds after I stopped running. It would take between 40 and 50 seconds just to get back down to where it was when I finished my run.

I got back to the house and sat for about four minutes and my heart rate was finally under 100 again. I am at a loss of what to do to get this one muscle to work better, more efficiently, and without slowing me down so much.

As I was running, which was really jogging, I kept thinking of the slogan: It’s not your legs that are tired, it’s your head. Keep moving. My legs were never tired. My head wasn’t tired. My heart was trying to kill me. If I ran until my legs were tired, I would fall over dead or with a heart attack or maybe just passed out.

They keep saying you will pass out before you die, but I’m not sure which order will happen when the “athlete” and I use that term loosely, is my age. Although, at my advanced age, I have far more collateral circulation and should I have a heart attack, I have a much greater likelihood of surviving it. But I’m pretty sure it would really interfere with my training, so I try not to go there.

Someday, I may get a heart rate compatible with exercise. I’m getting close to three years into CrossFit and I haven’t gotten there yet. I wonder if I can be the crappiest CrossFitter for the longest time ever. It might be a goal I can reach.