I struggle with CrossFit. I mean, everybody does if they are really pushing themselves. But I struggle with admitting that I do wonderful things. I feel like I’m bragging or as my mother might say, “Tooting my own horn.”
I work really hard and I am consistent. I allow the coaches to coach me. I try to keep my form even as I tire. I have a whole host of limitations on top of all the other stuff. I’m old and getting older by the minute. I have a heart rate issue and am limited by the constraints put on me by my cardiologist. Right now, I have a boo-boo and my left arm doesn’t work exactly right. I can’t raise it straight overhead and certain movement hurt what is probably a tear where the deltoid inserts into the humerus.
All in all, it takes a certain amount of dedication to do what I do. Perhaps, it takes stupidity or maybe I’m just crazy. Whatever it is, I am consistent in doing it. I show up, I work hard, I reward myself with bacon and an egg when I get home.
Because I was diagnosed as prediabetic last fall, I have had to modify my eating habits. Due to this, I have lost 15% of my body weight and some of that was muscles. I cannot move the same amount of weight I could last summer. That could also be because I’m aging and slowly deteriorating. Whatever the reason, my back squat is lighter. This is upsetting me and yet, I was squatting 90 pounds yesterday. I couldn’t even deadlift that when I started.
I want to be proud of myself. I should be. I show up and work. But I also don’t want to brag too much lest someone point out that what I’m doing isn’t all that great or world class or what the totally awesome old ladies who show up at the CrossFit Games can do. I’m not that caliber of athlete, but I am working to my own capacity each time I venture out.
How do I manage to get these two conflicting ideas to meld into something that doesn’t sound ludicrous to me or to the world at large?
I know that I am more flexible than I was when I started my yin yoga practice. I know that I’m more flexible than when I started it back up after having a temper tantrum that lasted for months. I can forward fold with my legs stacked and do crazy stuff like touch my head to my knees. The instructor, a woman in her twenties, is far more bendy. I feel bad sometimes when I don’t bend like she does or when I sway in the wind on some of the asanas.
There was a time when I couldn’t even get close to the correct position for these things. With practice and patience I now can. No one wins at yoga, but I’m a CrossFitter and we do dumb stuff like compete with ourselves constantly. I try to win yoga, a completely ludicrous choice. There is no winning in this arena. And yet, I can’t fold as far or hold the poses without wobbling and in some instances, even hold the pose at all.
How do I learn to appreciate the time and effort I put into these endeavors? How do I manage to do that without feeling undeservedly boastful? How do I learn to accept where I am now as the space I should currently occupy?
I want to be better. I want to be better at all the things. I wish I was far more capable than I am. And yet, I do many things reasonably well. I do many things at or above expectations. I should be happy with my progress.
I see opportunities for improvement everywhere. I see the missed stitches when I crochet. I see the stray marks outside the lines when I color. I see the collapse as I try to hold dragon pose for too long. I see the lower weights on the bar or substitute movements for the WOD. I see my failures.
How do I find the thousands of stitches done perfectly, the overall pleasing aspect of the pictures, the perfection of pigeon pose, the mastery of weights lifted with proper form? And then, how do I learn to feel proud of these accomplishments rather than looking for perfection? I have no answers. Another fault.