A few weeks after I started CrossFit, I was introduced to the ‘jumping pull up’. The irony of this blog post title now comes neatly in to play. Eight 40year old mothers bouncing up and down repeatedly? Certainly a test for the collective pelvic floor, but that’s a whole other post.
One day our trainer presented me with one of these (awesome, I thought. I’m on the winner’s podium already! Wrong)
…and one of these (a giant elastic band).
He pointed to the monkey bars and indicated that I was to climb on the box and be strung up from the rafters like a kipper on a bungee rope, then haul myself up and down like Sylvester Stallone in Rocky III.
“You want me to wha…?!”
I soon realised that my body weight and the force of gravity were going to stretch the band WAY further than the length of my arms. This meant that it was going to take either some kind of miracle, or a quick mutation into Mr Tickle to get me back up there. Major fail.
Maybe I should take tips from this guy and play Road Runner cartoons to keep me motivated…?
And so a new goal was formed. One perfectly formed, unassisted pull-up is all I want. No elastic band humiliation, no unbeatable gravitational pull, just me, my muscles and a puff of chalk dust. Watch this space…..