Two months ago I didn’t know what I couldn’t do. I just knew I didn’t feel good. All day at a desk was followed by a lot of the evening with a laptop, interspersed with bouts in the kitchen and in restaurants, eating lots of tasty foods in the name of my craft — writing about food. As is bound to happen, it all caught up with me. I went into Derby City CrossFit with vague ideas of losing fat and feeling better. I could never have predicted that less than two months later I’d feel like I could wear their T-shirt and not be a disgrace.
Walking in I couldn’t do a real push-up, I had never dreamed of squatting, and sure as hell couldn’t come close to completing a pull-up. My little daily walk to the bus stop and weekend promenade around Cherokee Park was maybe better than nothing, but not by much.
Lots of sweat, unending sore muscles of the kind that wake me up at night, and plenty new decidedly unfeminine calluses later I have met some goals that would have seemed impossible before I began.
I can squat my body weight (which, by the way is now nine pounds less than when I began). I can do real push-ups — a few of them. I can do a chin-up on my own, and after some rest, even another one. I can run pulling the sled and can do the prowler without getting sick. I can run up the street carrying a sandbag. I can leap tall buildings in a single bound (just kidding, but sometimes it feels that amazing). I’ve tried bench presses and dead lifts and even bought some booty shorts. I graduated to burpees just today. And oh yeah. I look better naked.
In 12 hours I get on a plane for Bangkok and for two weeks I’m on my own. No coach, no sandbags, no CrossFit. It’s up to me to keep up the training while I’m there. “Improvise,” Ben says. The best thing I’ve learned these last two months is that I can do what I set my mind to do, so I’ll do just that. I’ll come back just as strong, if not more, and ready for the next challenges.