ow

I joined James at the nearly empty G gym for his crazy ass workout on Saturday. He did a Linda. Crossfit names some of the workouts after hurricanes because they are that intense. He did a series of bench presses, dead lifts, and cleans. Obscene amount of weights. First round of 10 reps each, then a round of 9 reps, then 8, 7, 6, 5... you get the picture. Wow. That was a sight to see. Or rather, spot.

My scaled-to-virgin crossfit: Cindy (or was it an Angie-- I get them confused). Reps of three pullups, five puships, and seven squats, immediately after one another, as fast as you can, for 12 minutes.

The longest 12 minutes of my life.

I got in ten rounds just at the wire. James said that workout was more than people usually do in an hour and a half. And I believe him. We were pretty dead the rest of the day.

I got back on the horse though, and went back for more on Sunday (Angie or Cindy-- whichever one I didn't do on Saturday). I took a night off last night and still am still beyond sore. But I don't think I hurt anything. But ow. And I still can't extend my arms. I don't think I did a pullup ever before Saturday.

I plan to quit 24 Hour Fatness and join the gym here at work so maybe I'll stick with it. Jimbo wants me to be a big muscle bear by next summer. Kevin wants me to be able to participate at IML.

I just want to shed the ell-bees and look good with my shirt off.

Then there's Will egging me on. I need this positive peer pressure.

I'm calling my new body goal: "hulk smash."

(Just don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.)

The workouts are somewhat brief, but really intense. My body is seriously crying out "WTF mate?" I've been going to bed hours earlier than usual. Which is why I have so little to blog about this week...