Tough Times

Last week was tough.  Inside and outside the gym. Crossfit has become the physical representation of my life.

As the strength training numbers get heavier, I feel the strain. The WODs have begun to especially difficult. It's a gut check daily.

My life mirrors the weight. I am starting to labor. The stress, pain & worry is starting to take it's toll. It is a symbiotic relationship. What I do outside the gym fuels how I perform inside and vice-versa. Normally, it is a good balance....Normally.

I am at my happiest and my most vulnerable at RFM.

The very nature of Crossfit is intense. With every class I push myself often to the brink of tears from frustration & fatigue.  I fight back the tears because they are a waste of energy and make me look weak. I just cry AFTER by myself . I  hate that I do that, I let it all get to me.  I wish my heart & my muscles worked in sync.

I am not a natural born athlete. (As illustrated in previous posts) I know that there will always be someone stronger, faster & smarter than me. However, that doesn't stop me, I won't let it.  I just have to work harder, be smarter.

That being said, as hard as I'm working 98% of the time I'm one of the last people to complete a WOD. Yes, I am thankful I finished. However, it's starting to mess with me mentally. Killing my spirit just a little bit every time.

Then there's those "naturally gifted" people. Shit. I mean, you show them one time and give them a few tries...they get it. I'm still having a rough time with cleans, double unders, pull ups....AFTER 4 WEEKS! I do believe in doing it correctly. So repetition, repetition, repetition....very small improvements.

Because I am very competitive. I make my life hard. I want to be first, the best I can be. There is no other way around it. Whoever said winning isn't everything, never won anything. Winning is fun, being the best is fun...plain & simple.

I sound like a sore loser right now.  Which isn't my style.

As I write this blog I am reminded that....

Sometimes in my struggle I forget that what doesn't kill me will make me stronger. I need to cherish the little victories because...THEY ARE VICTORIES!

Every single pound heavier I do, that extra rep, second faster were earned. It was not given. Losers can't say that, because they don't have what I have...DESIRE.

I was born a fighter. I cry because I give a damn.

Kathy