I am not a very good student. I often learn lessons that weren’t part of the curriculum. I learn stuff that was not intended to be taught. I don’t know if other people do this, but it is often how I manage to ruin any hope of joy I might trip over by mistake.

Yesterday’s workout was horrific. There were a total of 300 double unders and 150 dumbbell snatches along with a half mile of running. I was sure this was going to be a partner WOD, but nope. It was each of us for ourselves. My first issue came with believing I could do shit. I do manage to do some shit, but not very much of it. There was a time cap for all this nonsense at twenty minutes, so at least I didn’t have to struggle for infinity.

I’m supposed to work on the damn double unders because the only way to get better at something is to practice. I have worked up to doing half the reps of the normal people. I usually do 80% of the other stuff they do and walk only half the distance. So that was how I set myself up for this WOD. That meant I started with 50 double unders instead of 100 and 40 dumbbell snatches instead of 50.

I have to jump a couple times before I can start the double unders and then put in one single under between each double under. The most I strung together was 14 and I had to stop then because my heart rate was too high. But I had done 30 jumps to get those 14. When I missed on the first or second jump, I was taking 4 or 6 jumps to get 1 or 2 reps. It was horrible. It took me over 8 minutes to get those first 50 double unders.

Then it took me breaking the dumbbell snatches into three because I did 20 and then 14 and simply did not have the heart rate capacity to finish without another rest. Then out for my walk and back to the double unders. Only this time, the most I strung together was four or five. To get 40 double unders took the rest of the time. I finished with three seconds still on the clock but I was too tachycardic to continue. So my score was time cap + 220 reps.

I came home in tears. What I learned was that I shouldn’t be doing this crap at all. I should listen to the Sun City woman and just knit. Why do I put myself through this when I simply cannot manage to do any of the shit. Only two people actually finished the WOD yesterday inside the time cap. That’s just a point of reference.

It took every single bit of strength and determination to make myself go back to the gym this morning. I go on Saturday and it is Saturday and I should go. Why? It’s not like I can manage anything.

I know in my head that I’m SUPPOSED to scale everything. Nothing is written for a 66 year old. Even the super duper athletes at the Games get a nod to their advanced years. If the WOD was written for me, everyone else would be miserable. That’s what my head says. My heart says it is disappointed in me. I’ve been at this for over seven years and I still can’t do shit. I still struggle with every damn thing ever written on the board. I still have the crappiest scores put up on the “leader” board. I’m the loser every single day.

I was still vacillating about whether or not to show up today when it was time to actually leave the house. I forced myself into the car and into the gym.

It was a team WOD and there was no rest in there at all. Person one did maximum number of toes to bar – something I cannot do (big surprise there) while the second person held a barbell in the front rack position (95 pounds for the guys, 65 for the girls), and the third person did 25 wallballs and then ran a quarter mile with said wallball. We drew lots for teams.

There were 21 people there so there was no extra person. I wanted to just leave but was coerced (kindly) into staying. Kylie grabbed me and I just stood there crying. I can’t do the things. I can never do the things. I can be old. And feeble. But I cannot be competent. Kylie wouldn’t let me quit and tried her hardest to make me feel better.

The switching was based on the wallballs. When that person was done, team members switched to the next thing and the score was the total number of TTB. I ended up doing hanging knee raises, held a 45# barbell, did ten wallballs with a lighter med ball, and walked half the distance.

As always, I did something. As always, it wasn’t what was on the board. Years ago, I thought by this time I would be adequate. I thought that by this time, I would be able to do things.

I wrote about framing and how the way we look at things makes a huge difference. It’s also very difficult for me raising all sorts of cognizant dissonance when I try to lie to myself.

I know that 15 months ago I could, on rare occasions do a single double under at a time. Yesterday, I did 90. I know that seven years ago, I couldn’t even hang from the bar. Today, I did 70 hanging knee raises. I know that when I began, I used a six pound kid’s med ball and couldn’t hit the nine foot mark or do more than four or five. Today, I used ten pounds to the nine foot mark and did my ten reps.

I know I am better than when I began. I know I’m better than I was a year ago. I know I’m still the crappiest person in the gym day after miserable day. I have no idea how to make that okay. I know I should. I know it is absolute astounding that I do any of this shit at all. I just thought I was going to be better at it by now.