Crossfit on Crutches

We have recently undergone surgery on the troublesome right foot. We shall refer to this as ‘Operation Trotter’.

In a nutshell, bones have been broken, shaved off, re-set and pinned, then encased in a plaster cast (or fibreglass to be accurate). It hurts, but having spent over a year working one’s butt off trying to reach a level of strength and fitness that I’m proud of, there is simply no way that I am going to sit on that very same butt for 6 weeks watching Glee.

I am fortunate that my chosen form of fitness is CrossFit. My gym buddies could not have been more helpful and supportive. They descended upon me for coffee and even brought flowers.

But the greatest tribute really must go to the two PTs who run the ‘Box’ – Andy and Pete.

It would have been easy to send me home, or to sit me on the side and give me a dumbbell to play with, whilst the rest of their members smashed a few WoDs and surpassed their PBs. The reality couldn’t have been further from this. They took the time and patience to encourage me in to the gym, assessed my movement ability and carefully assembled a set of replacement movements that I can realistically achieve until I am back on my feet.

Heck, we even did an hour of Boxing sitting on a box!

I could not be more grateful, knowing that I am in safe hands here. I was paranoid about losing my fitness and strength, but now feel totally reassured that I can retain some flexibility, and work up a sweat with a variety of tailor-made movements, created just for me.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Crossfit HG3.

The one where I am hurting (again)

 

 

I have a problem. I have had this problem since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. I appear to have an infallible ability to hurt myself, like ALL the time.

Yesterday my 5 year old son actually managed to cause himself enough pain to emit blood-curdling screams. When I rushed to investigate which large household object had decapitated him, I discovered that he was sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, crying. Yes. He had actually managed to cause himself an injury whilst sitting absolutely still on a couch. It is clearly genetic.

I will gloss over the fact that my arms and legs generally resemble those of a dalmation most of the time, due to my incredible ability to bruise just by thinking about it; the ever-present black blotches are such a given that they’re hardly worth a mention. Although I did just mention them.

I will also leave out the injuries which I have incurred outside of the fitness arena. These are simply too numerous and embarrassing to catalogue, although the day I fell off a ladder last year was a real doozy, and the childrens’ playground incident had them rolling in the aisles.

I will, however, draw attention to the list of not-quite fatal, but sodding painful injuries which the boys at CrossfitHG3 have malevolently inflicted upon my ageing body. Let me see, where shall we start? *clears throat*

1. Large bulbous swelling and gi-fucking-gantic bruise to right inner knee, incurred on first ever day at Crossfit, as a result of poorly judged box jump. Result – 6 weeks of swelling and an inherent fear of large black boxes for the rest of my life.

2. Severe foot injury, already outlined herein – exacerbated by drill-sergeant’s requirement for me to master the ‘double under’ skip. Result – skipping &  running smart like hell and possibly requiring surgery in future.

3. Spinal distress. Pain in my lower back like a small indiginous back-dweller is living inside me sharpening his machete on my spinal chord. Burpee crouches hurt like buggery. Deadlifts? Well, you do the maths. Result – girly lightweight who winces. A lot.

4. Large flap of skin separated from my right shin as a result of a poorly judged box jump. Yes, there may be a pattern emerging there. Result -pathological fear of boxes moved to another level.

5. Wrist sprain. Sustained in the aforementioned ‘playground’ incident.  Result – limiting for burpees, handstands and press-ups.

I am thinking of keeping a journal of all incidents, ranging from the minor to the downright hilarious, although I fear that this would render me somewhat Rain Man-ish in nature. I do not have time to count frigging toothpicks. So, I’ll leave it at this:- I am a bona fide Klutz. Bungling, inept and accident prone. I am unable to participate in deadlifts, running, skipping, box jumps, handstands, burpees or press-ups, but I haven’t missed more than one or two sessions of Crossfit for almost 10 months, and I’m still standing. Just standing. And mainly watching. 🙂

 

Just 1lb of fat…

When I made my first trip to Crossfit I weighed in at 18st 10lb, the highest I have ever been, with a desire to be 15st (last achieved about 25 years ago!)

The lightest I have ever been as a fully grown man was 12st 13lb at 22, with time spent playing squash or working out most days.

Like most men I guess, my ability to loose weight quickly when I was young made me complacent, and see any weight gain as a ‘temporary’ thing that could be easily sorted by a couple of weeks exercise and a few less burgers…

As I got older I was starting to recognise the extra effort required each time, but work/ambition seemed to provide enough excuses to ignore the issues, and before I could say ‘”Christ, I’m 30″, I was up to 16st… by 40 this was 17st … and by 50, we hit the jackpot at 18st 10lb.

This week I weighed in at 16st 11lb, still a long way from my target of 15st, but just 1lb away from nailing my second stone. As you can see from the graph the loss has been steady at about 1lb a week which got me to thinking – just what does 1lb of fat look like and what effort is required to shift the little bugger!  The simple answer is 3500 calories or a calorie deficit of 500 calories per day (I know this is an over simplification…)

The Paleo diet is certainly working – because of injury and holiday I have been out of the gym for 4 weeks, but still maintaining my weight loss. The exercise is certainly increasing my metabolism and helping with tone (Frank even said I was developing a waist today… I do worry about him). I had thought by now it might start getting harder, but so far I am still on a steady 1lb a week.

It would be nice to be at 15st before Christmas so I may have to start turning up the exercise dial!

Sporting attire for beginners

What NOT to wear for a CrossFit workout ‘ 101.’

This. Not yet, Dear. We’ll unleash the big guns when we can see our own feet.

This. Exactly WHEN was the last time you went to the gym?

This. Excuse me? We play Motorhead in the background here, not Barry Manilow.

This. Uh, I don’t think she’s here for the Boxing….

This. Snotty bitch from expensive private gym who thought she’d try CrossFit and show all those mummies how uber fit she was. Haaaaaaaaaaaaa. Style over substance, beeatch.

This. If you don’t have any friends in real life, you certainly won’t win any here wearing THAT.

This. Sorry, no. We do callouses, not manicures.

This.  Totally rocking it.

What do you wear? *smiley face*

What CrossFit can do for you

When I began CrossFit 6 months ago I looked like this.

Well, kind of.

I intended to work my arse (literally) off. So that I could look like this.

Ever the optimist – CrossFit is not actually time travel, right?

In reality I have gone from this…..*blurrrghhhh*

To this……

Hey, my work here is not yet done, people. But I no longer feel the need to tie my hair in a ponytail in order to remove my double chin, or to wear leggings under my dresses….

I am, however, knackered and aching all over. That’s good, right? 🙂