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Posted on Feb 25, 2014 in Dear Diary, Working Out | 9 comments

Aerial Yoga

Alas, I fear I must now face the stark reality that I will never, ever be a Cirque du Soleil-style aerialist.

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My coworker Kimberly and I went on a fitness adventure by trying out Aerial Yoga at Spark Yoga in Arlington.

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As you can see, aerial yoga is yoga that utilizes aerial silks in all of the moves. The description on the website reads:

Ready to fly? Decompress your spine and your mind by practicing yoga from a hammock suspended above the ground. Classes may include inversions, upper body exercises, and adventurous tricks using aerial hammocks.

Now, I’m no yoga pro, but I’ve been to enough classes and done enough at-home DVDs to know my way around a sun salutation or two, and my understanding was that this “beginner’s” level aerial yoga class would actually make things a little easier because the silk helps to support your weight and whatnot.

Plus, hello! It just looked fun!

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Weeeeell, as it turns out, my assumptions were both true and not true. But mostly not true. Sure, certain stretches were made simpler (and deeper!) by utilizing the silk. It was cool to do things like put your foot into the fabric while sitting on the ground (so it was kind of like up in a sling) and stretch, or putting the silk under your arms and falling leaning forward into a cobra pose. Plus, doing child’s pose while sitting in the “bucket” felt pretty fab.

But all the other stuff we were expected to do? Nottttt so much. As it turns out, putting a strip of fabric underneath your pelvic bone and downward-dogging on top of it actually kind of hurts. Not to mention the part where the instructor told us to then lift our legs off of the ground, so ALL OF OUR BODY WEIGHT was being balanced on our pelvic bone. And since I obviously have quite a bit of weight on me still, I couldn’t really do that (it REALLY hurt!), so then I started feeling pretty bad about myself when I saw all the other girls in the class suspended over the ground with ease.

I think the biggest problem with the class as a whole was that the instructor is so advanced in her aerial abilities (she was — is? — a professional aerialist and pole dancer) that I don’t think she considered giving out any modification suggestions. I mean, even when I did CrossFit and P90X and all that ridiculousness, there were always modifications for folks who weren’t as strong or as fit, and I didn’t get any of that at aerial yoga. And, hey, maybe it’s just that there aren’t really modifications possible with aerial yoga, but if that’s the case they should probably advertise that the class is for those who are already a little more advanced in yoga to begin with, right? I mean, throughout a large percentage of the class, I just kind of sat/dangled there not really knowing what to do (and feeling worse and worse about myself) while all the other girls got their Cirque du Soleil on. Womp womp.

Thankfully, the last 10 minutes of the class were somewhat redeeming. You end with savasana, but you do it inside the silk, so it’s basically like lying in a hammock/being wrapped up in a little cocoon. The instructor comes by and swings you gently back and forth, and you get to just lay there. Unfortunately, while I think the goal of savasana is to clear your mind and get into a good mental space, all I could do was fixate on how crappily I performed throughout the entire class. It was still nice and comfy though.

Anyway, as you can tell, aerial yoga really didn’t end up being for me, but I think a seasoned yogi or just folks who are lighter and more flexible might have a more enjoyable experience. And I guess for now, I’ll just stick to regular on-the-mat yoga whenever I need a fix. Blessedly, while I was whining to Kimberly after the class, she reassured me that she faced a lot of similar problems, so it does help to know that I wasn’t alone in my misery, haha.

Have you ever tried aerial yoga?

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Posted on Jan 15, 2014 in Dear Diary | 6 comments

Sore Loser

I’m not a particularly competitive person when it comes to games, sports, and the like (unless we’re talking Disney Scene It, of course, and then it is ON), so the title of this post does not, in fact, have anything to do with being a sore loser in the traditional sense. No, instead, I was just trying to figure out a cutesy, clever way to title a post in which I am basically planning in complaining nonstop about how physically sore I am.

I cashed in my free personal training session at the gym the other day, and it definitely put me through the ringer. It was a great workout, where I learned how to use the TRX tension straps (or whatever the official wording is), which I’d never used before. I left feeling most definitely worked out, and knowing that I would be sore in the morning. But boy, oh boy, I tell you what, I did NOT really know HOW sore I would be. I definitely don’t miss delayed onset muscle soreness, no sirree. And I know that I’m only so sore BECAUSE I’m so out of shape, and it’ll get better, and blahdeeblahdeeblah. But still… when it hurts to sit down on the toilet, you know that it’s gotta be a little bit bad, eh?

Anyway, I took yesterday as a rest day to recover a bit, which ended up working out because I had an appointment to get my hair re-did anyway, since my pre-Thanksgiving fabulous purple locks had faded into more of a pale blue, semi-purple mess (although actually, given that it’s been almost 2 full months, it actually didn’t look TOO bad, right? RIGHT?!)

Since my amazing hair stylist (I see Linh from Be Scene Hair Studio, for those that are in the market for someone incredible!) is located in Bethesda, AND because it takes a few hours to get hair as unnaturally vibrant as mine currently is (squeeee!), it took a pretty big chunk out of my day. So looks like the whole rest-day timing worked out for me. Plus, pretttyyyy:

If I’m being honest, guys, now that I’ve gone purple, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to go back.

Anyway, I’m still feeling pretty sore today, especially in the quads/glutes region, but (be proud of me!) I went ahead and did some light cardio and as much stretching as I could handle to help shake things out. The calorie counting has been going strong for the past couple of days as well, and while my diet is not 100% cleaned up yet, at least I’m being very good about tracking everything that I eat. It’s all about getting back in the habit, right?

Here’s to hoping that my weigh-in on Friday (I’m going to be doing Fridays for the next little while since that’s the day when we have to report our percentages for Yelp’s Biggest Loser) reflects my new (old) habits. Remember how in August 2010, at my very first weigh-in, I lost 11 pounds in one week?! I’m not quite that hopeful this time around, but still, it’s nice to remember the good times.

Here’s hoping!

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Posted on Jan 13, 2014 in Dear Diary, Weight Loss | 21 comments

Le Plan D’attaque

Well, the battle lines have been drawn. I’ve opened up my feeble, ashamed soul and admitted to you all that I have regained a huge, huge percentage of the weight I once worked so hard to lose. Le sigh. But, as I should have expected, you are all amazingly supportive (and wonderful to commiserate with), so I guess there’s nothing to do now but formulate my plan of attack.

And, yes, the title of this post is Google’s answer to “What is “the plan of attack” in French?” I have no idea if it is grammatically accurate, but I do like the ring of it. Why does it have to be in French? I dunno, I guess I just think it sounds cooler. As most things do.

Anyway, I’m not going to be revealing anything groundbreaking here, I’m sure. My plan pretty much echoes everything that I’ve done in the past, with the hopeful exception that it’ll actually stick this time. So, it breaks down a lot like this:

1. Count calories Yes, this accursed-yet-necessary proverbial thorn in my side is back with a vengeance. I’ve got the My Fitness Pal app on my phone, my food scale on my counter, and am ready to annoyingly log every morsel that passes through my lips.

2. Eat breakfast. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, that eating breakfast is pretty much a necessity for me when it comes to eating well and losing weight. It’s far too easy for me to fall into the trap of not eating anything at all until I’m so ravenous and have to eat something OMGRIGHTNOW that I end up falling into the grasp of the nearest fast food hut. So I picked up a billion-packet box of instant oatmeal from Costco, and I have a lion’s share of bananas, nut butter, and other breakfast goodies stashed away.

3. Make good food choices, especially when eating out. Unfortunately, due to the nature of my job with Yelp, I can’t make any bold declarative statements like, “I will only eat out twice a month!” And I know it sounds like an excuse, but it really is true that my job essentially requires me to eat out fairly frequently. Plus, you know, there’s the fact that I do LIKE eating out. So sue me. Of course, just because I’m eating food someone else prepared for me, doesn’t mean it has to spell the end of my weight loss efforts! Just the opposite, in fact. I’ve always been a proponent of the fact that you can still go out, eat out, and absolutely enjoy having a life even if you’re on a diet. You just have to make good decisions when you do. I am well-versed in navigating a menu and making healthy choices — I know all the tricks. I just have to actually, you know, DO it.

4. Cook more at home. Of course, all that being said, it’s still part of le plan d’attaque for me to cook healthy meals at home whenever I can. Backsliding over the past year has rolled me right back into my bad, lazy habits of ordering in, even when I don’t have any plans to eat out. Which is pretty crazy, since I actually LOVE to cook! I will be doing my best to resist the siren call of our local Domino’s at all times, and instead come up with cool, crafty culinary concoctions (say that 5x fast) that will satisfy my tastebuds AND my waistline.

5. Work out. Of course I had to save the worst for last. I make no secret of the fact that I hate working out. I hate being sweaty, I hate being short of breath, I hate feeling weak, I hate how it forces me to shower, I hate how everybody else in the entire universe is better at it than me, and pretty much the only good thing about it is that workout clothes are really comfy. And thus my impressive arsenal of workout clothing means I can spend like 83% of my time in yoga pants. BUT! I know that it’s good for the body and for the mind and for the soul (probably), so I’m gonna actually do it this time! But don’t worry, I’m sure I will complain about it every step of the way, hahaha.

I know, I know, you’re all like, “Just find something that you like doing! Then it won’t feel like working out!” But girl, believe me, I have TRIED. I’ve tried CrossFit and Zumba and Yoga and Pilates and BodyPump and running and swimming and P90x and Jillian Michael’s 21-Day Ab Shredder or whatever, and no matter how optimistic I was at first, or how much I tried to convince myself I liked it, in the end, I still hated them all.

So, I’m basically just resigning myself to the fate of doing it because I have to, and for no other reason than that. And on the bright side, I’m sure that eventually I’ll get to a point where, whether it’s because it’s just a part of my routine, or because I like the results so much, or because I’ve had a lobotomy and someone has re-programmed me to not be such a lazy SOB, I will probably stop complaining… as much.

And there you have it! My fancy French plan. Obviously there are a few other things that factor into each point, but I think this is a pretty good overview. After all, these are the basic guidelines that led me to losing 60 pounds before, so why wouldn’t they work for the next (er, same) 60? And hopefully beyond!

So, with that, I leave you to start mentally preparing myself for the physical training appointment that I have scheduled this afternoon. And I want it ON RECORD that, since I worked out yesterday, this means I will actually be going to the gym two days in a row. Miracles do happen, people!

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Posted on Jan 3, 2013 in Dear Diary | 9 comments

Guest Post: Army Pants and Flip Flops

Boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. Have I got a treat for you today. Some of you might recognize the name and face behind today’s guest poster, and that’s because today we welcome my good friend Aileen to the blog! Aileen, for those of you who don’t know, has a witty and laugh-out-loud hilarious blog called Army Pants and Flip Flops, where she details her life, opinions, and various neuroses–with all of those things being at least somewhat related to the fact that she is an Army wife-in-training. Oh, and she’s totally the one who edited my book.  NBD.

Aileen has managed to masterfully weave together a post about health, happiness, and new year resolutions for your enjoyment. Also, she utilizes the word “cheese” no less than 36 times, which I think is already very telling as to how awesome and delightful this post is. I strongly, strongly recommend you guys become a regular follower of her blog, but since I’m sure her own words will  be far more convincing than my own… take it away, Aileen!

How I tackled 2012 like a well-balanced cheese plate

In January, 2012, I made a list of resolutions. When I do choose to make New Year’s resolutions (re: rather infrequently), I like to set the bar as low as possible. One year I resolved to eat more cheese. The next year I resolved to eat less cheese, because my primary care physician recommended I have my cholesterol routinely checked, which I took to mean that my cheese consumption was rapidly killing me, and every slice of brie brought me one slice closer to death.

The year after that I went back to eating cheese again, because I decided that life is too short to ignore a sweet-cream gouda. Although my life might be a little longer if I decide to ignore the gouda every once in a while.

So by January 2012, I’d learned an important lesson: resolutions, like a good cheese plate, require a purposeful element of balance.

CheeseClock

Study this CheeseClock; it will become important later. And now you know how to balance a cheese plate. You’re welcome.

At the end of 2011, I came down with bronchitis. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t simultaneously come down with tonsillitis and sinusitis, and a completely unrelated tendonitis in my right hip and left foot, none of which I’d ever experienced before, and all of which left me looking and feeling extremely attractive. Which is I’m assuming why, at the end of 2011, the time was also right for my then-boyfriend to ask me to marry him.

Anybody who doesn’t regret proposing to you after watching medicated nasal spray drip slimily from your snot-filled nostrils for the week proceeding the engagement is definitely a keeper.

The proposal and my sudden onslaught of ailments jolted me into 2012 feeling giddy and breathless. (The breathlessness was mostly from the bronchitis. It took me a while to get used to using the inhaler.) And while the general area of my face, chest, and throat only took a month or two to clear out, the other symptoms of my end-of-2011, it seemed, were a bit more permanent.

The first permanent symptom was Jonathan, my now-fiancé. I realize that calling him a “symptom” makes me sound like an asshole, but before you JUDGE ME, consider that I call Jonathan a symptom of my new life in the same way that the blooming bud of an orange day lily is a symptom of pollination, which is a symptom of photosynthesis, because the working world is full of beautiful symptoms that happen because we need them to, but also because we want them to.

I also call Jonathan a symptom because, as much as I believe every new marriage should strive for happiness and permanence, marrying Jonathan also means marrying his job as a noncommissioned officer in the United States Army. If you want to know how inadequately my upbringing and temperament has prepared me to be an army wife, feel free to take a look at my history with semi-violent situations and my fear of Republicans.

When 2012 began, I knew it would end with my fiancé’s second deployment to Afghanistan, and the promise of a new beginning when he returned.

What I didn’t know when 2012 began, however, was just how permanent my second symptom would be.

While the tendonitis in my foot disappeared easily with systematic rest and a nauseating dose of NSAIDs, the tendonitis in my hip decided it was really enjoying hanging around. It was having such a good time, in fact, that it decided to invite increasing joint and muscular-skeletal problems to the party. You know those really charming Mucinex commercials where they turn a big blob of mucus into a middle-aged New Yorker with a tiny bowler hat and suspenders? I imagine it’s something like that mucus guy that settled into my hip; except, instead of mucus, he is made of A THOUSAND TINY RETRACTING SWITCHBLADES, and he has no charming bowler hat.

While my doctors and I had legitimate reasons to be concerned about this, the symptom (and this time I’m saying “symptom” in the traditional, non-fiancé sense) that manifested earliest was that I absolutely had to stop running, under penalty of tiny switchblade death. And also under penalty of a very nice MRI technician who let me listen to a local country radio station in giant headphones while he scanned my hips for fluid, so he seems like a trustworthy guy.

I guess my saving grace in this new army-wife-suddenly-crippled life was that I’ve never actually enjoyed running. I ran several times a week for many years of my life because I’m lazy, and running was the easiest way for me to exercise my whole body and keep my weight down, but still leave the gym in time to be home for Jeopardy. Running was the entire foundation on which my fitness routine was based, and suddenly, in the midst of these other life changes, that foundation crumbled like a chunk of pungent feta cheese when you take your first bite into a Greek salad.

I can make almost anything a cheese analogy if you give me time.

As 2012 began, so did many changes. I needed to find a way, with my doctors’ help, to stay healthy in a body that felt completely new to me (and was apparently a complete asshole to me, too). And I needed to do so in a way that would fit my life as it somersaulted into a new world of unknowns and anxiety.

With an eye for balance, I went about setting my 2012 New Year’s resolutions in the same way one would go about balancing a cheese plate according to the CheeseClock: from mild, to medium, to bold, to strong.

  • Mild cheese plate selection: Start your cheese plate at the 6 o’clock position with young mild goats, double or triple cremes, or bloomy rind cheeses.
  • Mild resolution for 2012: Get better at using the touch screen on my iPhone.

In my habit of setting the bar low, I chose to make sure my first resolution had nothing to do with anything. This resolution was mild (like a creamy chèvre) because it was literally impossible for me to be worse at using my touch screen. As a bonus, I resolved to train my autocorrect to recognize the word “chèvre” without suggesting I change it to “Chevrolet.”

  • Medium cheese plate selection: Proceed clockwise, with the next type of cheese being a soft to semi-firm, such as a mild cow, aged goat or sheep milk cheese.
  • Medium resolution for 2012: Incorporate poultry into my diet.

When I walk through the cheese aisle at Trader Joe’s, I will inevitably purchase at least one block of artery-clogging, semi-firm Manchego. Finalizing my departure from 10 years of vegetarianism was something I’ve known for a long time was equally inevitable.

While my doctors couldn’t prove that my lack of meat-derived amino acids was necessarily causing any of my health problems, they urged that being committed to appeasing my health problems meant cutting out any external factors that could be contributing to my body’s unhappiness. While I was already health-conscious and balanced my diet fairly carefully, I knew that my life would be much easier without the constant worry that I wasn’t getting enough protein. Which sometimes led to unhealthy binges on Greek yogurt and pad thai with tofu, which in turn left me unsatisfied and bloat-y.

  • Bold cheese plate selection: Your next cheese can become stronger, bolder and nuttier like a hard mountain, long-aged cheddar and mild washed rind (“stinky”) cheese.
  • Bold resolution for 2012: Plan (most of) my wedding.

One time I went to a wine and cheese bar, and was served a cheese that was purposely covered in fuzzy, pungent mold. Stomaching that cheese was more pleasant than planning a wedding has been so far.

Side note: I also learned that when a cheese is “washed,” it can sometimes be “washed” with penicillin. So make sure to warn your waiter about allergies you have to any medications. But only at wine and cheese bars; other waiters apparently don’t care that you’re allergic to penicillin, even though you were just trying to prevent a stinky cheese lawsuit for them, so they should really stop being such an asshole to you.

  • Strong cheese plate selection: To finish, choose a cheese with a bigger presence, such as more assertive washed rind cheese, or a classic blue cheese like Roquefort.
  • Strong resolution for 2012: Lift twice my body weight on the leg press.

In the winter of 2011, I ventured for the first time into the weight-machine section of my gym. While I’ve always felt safe and comfortable among the treadmills and suspended flat-screen TVs playing Hardball with Chris Matthews in closed captions, the weight-machine area was like some weird factory on Mars to me. It was filled with levers, and clanking, and angry, grunting men. Who smell your virgin weight-lifting fear. And then stare at you like you’re a toddler sporting a stinky, poo-filled diaper when you remove the pin completely from the bicep curl machine, because you realize you can’t lift more than 25 pounds, and that’s just the bar.

In my first two months of lifting, I hated it so much that, once a week or so, I decided maybe my body was better now and I could start running again. On one such occasion, I ran for an entire 11 minutes before my friend the DELIGHTFUL BALL OF SWITCHBLADES remembered he was on duty in my hip. F that guy.

I stopped running. Indefinitely. And, thanks to the backsliding, I had to stop all cardio for a few months, because just the strain of my apartment-to-work commute was prompting my doctor to recommend my taking short-term disability from my job. OKAY. I GET IT. I’LL STOP RUNNING.

I learned how to properly use all the machines. I discovered a particular affinity for the leg press, which is probably because I learned to channel my rage through my legs during six years of soccer as a kid. I even learned to use the machines I hated, i.e. THE STUPID BICEP CURL, which, even when I finally got the machine adjusted to the right height and position, I still couldn’t set it to more than 25 pounds. A guy at my gym who wears short shorts and those webbed-toe shoes that make you look like a frog continued to eye me patronizingly for weeks. I decided not to care, because maybe my lack of strength was ridiculous, but his shoes were also ridiculous so in my book we’re even.

When I began lifting weights at the end of 2011, I weighed 115 pounds. Which sounds like maybe I should quit my bitching and just skip a few weeks at the gym, until I mention that I’m 5’2” and I consistently have to go up a size in bikini bottoms because the size that accommodates the rest of my body absolutely cannot accommodate my butt. Which also probably explains why I’m overzealous about the leg press.

So I set my goal. Starting at a measly 100 pounds on the leg press, by the end of 2012 I resolved to lift twice my body weight: 230 pounds.

Then halfway through the year I gained five pounds and angrily realized I’d have to get to 240 instead. Jonathan says this was just a result of building muscle. I say it probably also has something to do with the manchego.

December 27, 2012 marked my one-year engagement-versary with Jonathan. He celebrated by attempting to find a free computer at the MWR in his post in Afghanistan so he could email me. I celebrated with this:

Leg press

Seated leg press

Leg press, and seated leg press for good measure. 10 reps; 3 sets. 240 pounds.

For 2013, I have resolved to make no resolutions. Except for dropping back down to 220 on the leg press for a little while, because apparently completing my New Year’s resolutions was at some point more important to me than being able to walk up and down stairs for the next week.

And as for the others…

Touch screen

Turkey leg

wedding-binder-details

Aileen blogs regularly about cheese, life, and her gun-wielding hubby-to-be at http://armypantsandflipflops.com. Follow her on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram!

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Posted on Aug 29, 2012 in Working Out | 14 comments

CrossFit Part Deux

I’d say “Guess what I did last night?” but I’m thinking the title of this post kinda gives it away, huh?

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Please ignore my heinous bug bite.

Yep, a mere six days after my first CrossFit experience, I made my (not so) victorious return to the “box”! The amazing people at CrossFit Annandale are generously providing me with a scholarship (free attendance) in exchange for me sharing my workout experiences, so I figured it was time to get back in the figurative saddle.

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That picture just about sums it up. On the bright side, I felt roughly 83% less throwy-uppy after this time. That means I’m already improving, right? Hahahaha.

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I think I ended up picking a really good class to make my second one, because the types of moves we did and the muscle areas we targeted were completely different than last time. I can see why CrossFitters claim that they never get bored doing this kind of workout, for sure. Yesterday’s workout was much more focused on arms, shoulders, and back, whereas last week’s was all about the quads and glutes.

We started with a warm up outside in the parking lot where we did high knees and butt kicks, then some walking stretches, then a quick round of push ups (on knees, for me) and squats (I’m getting better at these already!). Then we headed inside for the regular workout part, where we alternated between bench pressing and “toes to bar” crunches. Sorry there aren’t any actual workout photos, but I felt a little sketchball asking for someone to take pics of me again, haha.

Since I have never bench-pressed anything in my life (and it was only my 2nd time and all), Coach Tony spent a lot of time taking me through the proper way to do it. I gotta say, I’m really impressed with the amount of personal attention you get at CrossFit. I know that it’s probably different for me because I’m still such a n00b and need help with, um, everything, but still. I think I would liken the experience to group personal training.

Anyway, for the bench press I started with just the 45-lb bar, then added 10 lbs of weight after my first set. I was VERY wobbly, since I’m not used to having to hold up something that can tilt above me, but I think I have the basic idea down for sure. I really need to work on my breathing rhythm most, I think, since exhaling at the wrong time had a definite effect on my ability to push the bar back up.

The toes to bar things were NOT something I could do, however. They involved dangling from a pull-up bar and lifting your feet straight up until they touch the bar where your hands are. Er, yeah. I couldn’t even do the whole dangling from the bar part. So Tony had me do leg lifts on the ground instead, which works the same lower abdominal muscles (of which I have roughly zero, haha). At least I’ve done those before!

After a few sets of those two moves, it was time to move onto the Workout of the Day (WOD). Yesterday’s WOD was an “AMRAP”, which stands for “As Many Reps As Possible.” In essence, we had 10 minutes to cycle through the 3 different sections of the WOD as many times as we could manage.

The first part was to do 5 ring dips. This involves hoisting yourself up on dangling rings, dipping your body weight, and pulling yourself back up. Because my upper arm strength is about the same as my core strength (I’m weeeeeak!), I did dips on a bench instead, and did twice as many (10).

The second part was to do 10 pull ups. Again, can’t do them (yet!) so I did seated pull-ups using the rings that I didn’t use for the actual ring dips (confused yet? Hahaha). I also only had to do 5, which was good, because they were still really hard.

Finally, the last part was to do kettlebell swings! I’ve been seeing/hearing about kettlebells for a long time, so I was actually excited to get to do this. Coach Tony helped me out with my form for a while, and I did a lighter weight than the other girls (16 pounds instead of 35), but I did the regular number of reps (20).

So, ring dips, pull ups, kettlebell swings, repeat! I got through my modified-for-a-weakling cycle 4 times, plus an additional 5 shoulder dips. Whoo! Unlike last time, however, where I was able to do the same exercises as everyone just with lower weight, I did feel kind of lame having to modify so many moves, and by so much. I mean, I know that I’ll get there eventually, and it’s not like anybody made me feel bad about it (other than myself), but still. I guess that’s just something I’ll have to get over, eh?

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After the WOD was over, another coach helped me with stretching and mobility exercises for a good 15 minutes, which was awesome. He showed me how to foam roll my lats, do shoulder mobility using a long skinny PVC pipe, and use a lacrosse ball for my back. I think that this was crucial in me being less sore today. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m still sore (which means I’ll be even MORE sore tomorrow!), but it’s not as bad as last time AT ALL. And again, this workout didn’t really make me nauseous or anything either. Hopefully that doesn’t mean I didn’t put forth the same amount of effort though!

We’ll have to see how long it takes me to fully recover this time, haha. ‘Til then, CrossFit!

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