8x4 single arm kettlebell press, 30 second rest between sets
weight: 1 pood (this was so challenging on my left side!)
5 rounds for time:
3 squat clean thrusters, 155/115#
Time: 7:43, Rx
Post-WOD. I wish you could see how it'd looked like I'd just gone swimming. For those that care, I had to partition the last two sets of pullups into a set of 7 and a set of 8.
For the Instructor Training Program at CFM, we're required to write a few blog posts over the duration of the session. I've decided to share my last blog post with you all!
"I Look Down to Look Up"
I look down at my torn up cuticles. My scratched nail polish. I turn my hands over, I see rough calluses and what looks like chalk still embedded in them from the mornings WOD. No amount of Dremeling would remove them. And I wouldn’t want them gone! How would I do pull-ups, farmer carries or deadlifts otherwise? These calluses are badges of pride.
I look down at my shins. Scraped. Permanently bruised from the heavy barbell I press and drag against them daily, snatching, dead lifting, cleaning. Tall socks work sometimes. If I didn’t have them though, that would mean my bar path was all wrong and my lifts would be suffering.
I look down at thighs; well muscled, vascular. I wear them with pride in a skirt and heels, showing them off as I prance. I wear them with shame when I try on a trendy pair of skinny jeans at The Gap. Skinny jeans on these quadzillas? Laughable.
I look down at my small ta-ta’s. And the cup size I’ve lost, but the bust size I’ve gone up, with all of the new muscles I’ve gained in my back.
I sometimes feel like I’ve lost my curves, but I realize I have not. I just have to look down, to see I have simply gained a new set of curves. The curve of my quadriceps, of my gluteus (thank you, squats), of my latissimus dorsi, rhomboids and deltoids. These are the curves carved out by hours under the bar. They show dedication and determination.
I just have to look down, to look up with the kind of pride and confidence that carries me through the entire day; strong enough to tackle any menial office task, traffic jam or spousal dispute. Strong enough to carry me back into the box, day after day, to tackle whatever the WOD calls for. Strong enough to get a little stronger, every day.
I look down and see blood, sweat, tears, strength, and determination. So that when I look up, I set my shoulders back with pride and confidence. C’mon world, hit me with your best shot.
I'll let you know if it makes the CFM blog. ;)
After assisting the Noon class, a few of us went on a hunt to find Baton Bob, a famous Atlanta local who twirls a baton in crazy getup.
He blows a whistle and directs traffic. He's pretty famous, and gets a lot of cat calls, whistles and honks, but refuses to allow anyone to interrupt his performance for a photo op. :(
The noon class did not have any easy day.
The AirDyne had it's way with Bridget.
Have a great weekend everybody!
Would you rather run, row or Airdyne?