Wednesday, March 25, 2015

The Vagina Drag

I was feeling healthy enough to sign up for CrossFit class through my university. It was a coupon I won through our Working Well program which can be applied to multiple exercise classes. Every year I work for these things to get my stuff for free because I am of the poor variety. When I signed up for the class, I had not been diagnosed yet with my broken neck, bad left rotator cuff, declining vision, whacko body chemistry awry and whatnot. At the time, I just figured in three months I will be in good enough shape. Now, with my "issues" (yes, I'm one of those now) I think I might disqualify with their requirements, but shhh-don't tell. If it hurts me too much, I will resign.

Sauntering into class, expecting to be amongst my peers I saw a vision of sugar plums. Yes. Me-47. The Others-20. Most intelligent people would have turned around while saying, "Oops, wrong class. I was looking for Yoga."


I was mega smart. I stayed.

The instructor was a nice looking lad of Irish descent with a full on red beard. I shall call him Shamus. He was no ginger. He shook my hand at introductions like it would be the last. He was mocking me.

The warm up was like everyone else's (that shows possession, Spellcheck-it is a word I say so) regular workout. He even said so after some students groaned and moaned or vice versa. Not sure the order of those words. While doing the forward and backward lunges down the length of the gym and back I found myself thinking my quads would probably be toast the next day. We did a series of planks for hours it seemed followed by bear crawls, jumping jacks, air squats, Spiderman walks, and mountain climbers. This was just warming up. The Spiderman walk was the last on the list of warm up exercises. My last round resembled a vagina drag. What is that? You might ask. It was all I could do to drag my vagina across the finish line in true slug form with my arms up pulling my body which led with my vagina on the basketball court floor and my noodle legs following limply behind to resemble some type of dead woman down maneuver which resembled a paraplegic drag. I'm not exaggerating.

That was the beginning.

Once Shamus explained the WOD (workout of the day) and scoring and instructions, we began. I was not going to come in last. I persevered and did not go quietly into that good night. I believe my last wall ball pretty much looked like a dip and I hugged the medicine ball when the buzzer went off, but I did not stop. In fact, I was not going to let those little whipper snappers see me flounder and cry and go into the fetal position. I could do that at home on my own time.

Yeah. I seem to recall writing a book similar to this.

I kicked ass like a true old cop. A couple of the kids introduced themselves and shook my hand. Shamus gave me that nod of approval, showing he was impressed and proven wrong without having to say so.

I was the first one out of the classroom. Was I being rude?

No. I just couldn't breathe and carry on a conversation. Why embarrass myself.

There isn't enough Biofreeze in this world to save me right now. I can't move. My ass was stuck on the company pot for a few extra long minutes because I had no handicap rail to get up. And that was just a hover. Imagine when I poop at home.

Photo credit: Pinterest

I have CrossFit class tonight. Yep. Round Two.

I have been praying since one minute after that last class to God so he can get me through this and that has been two days now. I might be on the longest running prayer streak. Someone wrote a CrossFit poem titled "Footprints."  In the end I can tell everyone Jesus, not my Mexican friend-the other Jesus, carried me.

1 comment:

  1. Momma Fargo:
    I was never into ANY stage of my life.
    Just do enough to "pass" whatever test was tossed at me...and THAT...WAS...IT.

    These days, I will admit that all the (then unseen) torture I put my body through (like shouldering doors open) has come home to claim it's "rewards"...and that means some PAIN.
    But, according to the USMC, pain is EVIL LEAVING THE BODY.
    Guess that makes me one "delightfully aged sum'bitch"?

    NAH...never gonna happen.

    Good post.
    Hang tough & roll safe down there, dear.