I sent CrossFit Support an email when I couldn’t post my score and I included a screenshot of the message I was getting. They said they fixed it. I sent them a reply and explained that I believed their glitch in the matrix kept me from being added to the roster and I included a screenshot of my dropdown box. They replied that they had fixed it. I sent them a reply indicating I still was a hot mess.

Everyone else seemed to be fine, but I still didn’t have my line to post a score and now the deadline had passed. I sent another email with a copy of my credit card charge and my user name, gym affiliation, age and status, and my score with time interval. I asked them to please fix it. I raged around the house but managed to keep emails civil because I needed their help and my mother’s voice was right there telling me to “be nice” and so I tried to be.

It took them days but on Saturday morning, upon awakening, I found another email in my inbox. Lo and behold, it was discovered that somehow I did not have a line in the database. They gave me a code to use so I could get in. If I would be so good as to send them information about 17.1 they could fix that for me. I had everything they needed included – except the name of my judge. I sent them all the information back and am awaiting their fix.

Yesterday was our group WOD for 17.2 and I was there defying all the pollen and my age and frailty. There was nothing I could do about the latter, except work to my own capacity; about the former, I wore my contacts only while I was actually doing the WOD and the rest of the time I had my glasses on.

People who have as much trouble as I do with some of the more complex and challenging moves have mentioned that my scaling as an old fart is quite different. It is. I’m an old fart. No one seems to mind that I’m decades older than they are always. It is difficult to be me just like it is difficult for everyone else to be them. Life is hard. Make it work anyway.

Walking lunges spike my heart rate even without any added weight. This was going to be difficult and I knew it. But my hope was to get to round three and then run into that brick wall (just like everyone else) instead of dying with the lunges.

I usually do sit-ups without having my feet pinned down. It was, frankly, easier, the way the standards had it. That was the nice part. It let me keep abreast of the times of the youngsters in their forties.

Four stacked 45# plates made a pile that had my head 6.25 inches from the bar so it was pretty damn perfect. I have never done a chest to bar like this. I can do them from the racked raised bar. I have the idea, but I don’t have any practice like this. I tried. I missed. I tried and missed several times. I micrometered closer each time, but never did manage to touch my chest to the bar when time ran out.

I got the score I dreamed of and hoped for and my interval time was respectable. I tried my damnedest to get in one chest to bar and failed, but I went down swinging and gave it my best shot. I’m thrilled with my performance.

This isn’t supposed to be about scores, says the people who make it about the scores. This is a weeding out process allowing us to see our hierarchy in the Sport of Fitness. The pages of rankings prove this. I’m worried beyond reason about being last in the world. I hated the feeling when I was last in the US.

But … I’m not last in the world. In fact, when Support people finally get my score entered (and I know this can take days and I apparently was NOT the only one with this problem) I won’t even be on the last page. At least as of this week. So I really hope it doesn’t take a whole week to rectify this issue. I want to be able to see, line by earned line, how far I’ve come – which they tell me – is the whole point of signing up. I’ve worked really hard for my numbers.