Hmmm...interesting title. Either I'm going to be rambling about fitness again or this blog is about to veer sharply out of its generally PG track.
Wednesday night I set a new PR for a tractor tire deadlift. For the record it is 560 pounds. I set it during Muscle Hour at Pride Fitness Performance. I also tried to lift 610 pounds, but that didn't happen. It will happen, but this wasn't the week for it.
I have a new goal. It's not on my list of goals on the Wall of Pride, because I just decided on it. At my very heaviest, before I was a Mooser contestant I weighed 309 pounds. My goal for a tractor tire dead lift is 618 pounds. Somehow it feels important to be able to lift double what I used to weigh. I don't weigh that anymore, but I remember how it felt and I still see that when I look in a mirror.
Last week was the first week of a new phase at Pride Fitness Performance, also known as my happy place. Seriously, I love it there. Yes, there are times I leave so sore and tired I'm not sure I'll make it to my next class, but most of the time I do. Even with the buddy training sessions when the rowers come out I love it.
The rower is my undoing just about every time I get on. My trainer doesn't seem to mind: he earned two gold stars last week. In case you wondered: Tyler earns a gold star when he makes someone vomit. I'm not sure if I'm proud or just thoroughly embarrassed that he got two from me. The competitive part of me wants to keep getting on the rower and pushing as hard as I can until there comes a time I don't vomit when I get off.
The first time Tyler got a gold star was after a 3000 m row. He told Carole and I we had 17 minutes to get to 3000 m and we could take a break rowing, but not until we got to at least 2000 m. He also suggested that we keep a steady pace and not worry about speed. You see where this is going, don't you?
Yes...I really meant to keep a steady pace. The thing is when I know I can take a break at 2000 m and I'm at 1800 m this overwhelming need to get to the break erases every bit of common sense I possess, which is a woefully small amount as those of you who know me realize. So I got to 2000 m, took a break and then pushed to 2500, took a break and tried to keep a nice steady pace for the last 500 meters. Umm yeah, that lasted until 2750 and then I HAD to finish and I had to do it as fast as I could. The final time I pulled I knew Tyler was getting that gold star.
I have spent enough time working out to recognize when vomiting is inevitable. When I feel as if I can't draw in a full breath I get panicky. Sometimes I have the presence of mind to remind myself I am still getting oxygen, I will not die and I am fine. Not so much after 3000 m. I'll spare you the details and just say that the second gold star was earned courtesy of the rower as well. The second time was during a crazy intervals bout with the rower. Crazy intervals, if you care, are steady pace for 40 seconds, as fast as possible for 20 seconds, steady pace for 60 seconds and a final as fast as you can 20 second round.
I am determined not to give Tyler another gold star. I like him, I trust him 100%, but I am not giving him another gold star. I'm not really angry about those stars. To me they mean that Tyler offered me a challenge and I gave everything I had to give to meet that challenge. Oh, not that it matters, but I finished my 3000 m row in 14 minutes and 10 seconds.
As most of you know I have a goal to climb the rope at my happy place and ring the cowbell. I hoped I would meet that goal on Friday. Sadly, I didn't ring anything. I did get farther up the rope than ever before, but not close enough to ring that bell. Since then I have been obsessively watching You Tube videos and reading everything I can find about what to do with my feet when I'm trying to get up the rope. I have a good deal of upper body strength, but not enough to haul myself up the rope with no legs. I have a couple of different methods to try the next time the opportunity presents itself. We'll see how it goes.
There is a new toy at my happy place now. A wall, the combat wall as Tyler has named it. One side is about 8 feet high and the other is at least 10 feet. Walls scare me, there I said it. I am afraid of walls. I am not afraid that I might fall off and get hurt, no that would be a sensible fear. Nope, what I am afraid of is that I will fail and make a fool of myself.
I have grown and changed a lot on this journey, but the fear of looking like a fool is still there. I want to look competent, heck I want to be competent. Ask me to flip a tire or dead lift and I jump: I know I can do those things and I do them pretty well. Walls, not so much. If I get a boost I can get to the top and over without too many splinters in places splinters were never meant to be. I can even come down on the other side without breaking anything (at least so far).
The thing is: I want more. I want to be able to get up and over the walls by myself. I figure I should be able to get up and over the 8 foot wall alone. I'm not saying there is any shame in getting a boost, but my stubborn streak says I can do it on my own.
I'd like to tell you the next time I post I'll be able to tell you I rang the cowbell and I made it over the 8 foot side of the wall under my own steam. The fact is that probably won't be the case since I have a few ideas brewing at the back of my mind that will need addressing soon. Stay tuned though: the wall, the rower and the rope will be conquered and with any luck I will not be giving Tyler his third gold star.
Thanks for reading!
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