Full disclosure: Again this morning, I very seriously considered turning off the alarm and going back to sleep. But here’s the thing: I think I just start slower in the morning now.
Back in the day, pre-Frankenneck, I woke up like this:
Now I wake up like this:
As long as I get my butt out of bed, it doesn’t matter what’s going on in the noggin, so I’ve decided that from now on, I’m just going to assume that thinking about NOT going to my workout is part of waking up. I’m not going to indulge in that whim, of course, but if my inner brat needs to pretend it’s an option, so be it.
When I’d woken up enough to operate my iPhone, I checked on the workout: burpee box jumps! Hooray!
For real. I said, “Hooray!” Smudge was nonplussed.
6 power snatches, hold for 3-count @ the top @ 50#
8 Romanian deadlift, lower for 4-count, hold for 1 @ 60#
AMRAP 15 minutes:
10 burpee box jumps, 20″ box
My rounds (officially): 4
My rounds (Meliciously): 5
On round 2, my brain disengaged from what my body was doing, I suspect to protect itself from the agony. On round 3, I realized we still had a sh*tload of time left in the 15 minutes. It made me sad.
Ultimately, I made it through 4 full rounds and 10 burpees of the 5th with 40 seconds remaining. I couldn’t stand there like a dufus for 40 seconds, so I left on the run… and when Coach Boone called to me that time was up, I kept on running. Up the hill. Across the verge. Back down the hill to the gym.
It hurt. But my post-workout sweet potatoes+egg whites tasted like victory. And salt.
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