On December 8 I’ll be 40. FORTY. I’m kinda stoked to be honest. My 20s were a nightmare, my 30s really really hard. The 40s better deliver is all I’m saying.
In the countdown I’ve decided to do a little series of things I am grateful for, things I love, things that make me laugh or things I’m passionate about. Yeah, that’s right, totally making it up as I go along.
But today, first cab off the rank is a recent life addition. A revelation if you will. Something I did not see coming but am so so glad it did.
CFA. CrossFit Athletic. CrossFit. Fitness cult. Crazy fitness freakazoids.
I’m six months in and a month into working with Pete the Trainer and can NOT emphasise how life changing it has been. I LOVE these guys – Pete, Meredith, Aeron, Christian and Wal. They work with peak athletes to sweaty masses like myself and do so with care, thought and genuine concern for your whole well being. There is not a grain of arrogance or ego or judgement, the whole culture of the place is “let’s make you the best you can be and help each other do the same in the process”.
post exercise glow…
In that 6 months I’ve lost about 5kgs, 8cm off my bust, 8cm off my waist and 4cm off my hips. It doesn’t sound like much but curiously I’m OK with it because it is the belief in myself that matters now. The weight will come off, mark my words, but to do that while healing my mind? GOLD.
So you beautiful outrageously fit and physically inspiring crew? I thank you. Do NOT ever under estimate the impact you’re having on people every single day.
Forty. Can you fucking believe it.
So after the hilarity of my radio stardom last week Saturday morning heralded the return to the hard yards. It was my eighth week of my CrossFit Tough Mudder Bootcamp.
- In that eight weeks I have gone from being unable to sleep on Friday night because of how anxious I was about going and the ‘what if I can’t do it’ mentality, to it being the absolute highlight of my week.
- In that eight weeks I have come to truly appreciate that by the simple truth of me turning up, giving it a go and not quitting even when my legs are screaming, my arms are burning and my heart is about to stop it is pumping so hard that I can do it. I.CAN.DO.IT.
- In that eight weeks I have, in one session, run six five-minute soft sand runs AND on three of those been able to push a little harder on the last minute.
- In that eight weeks I have gone from being able to do three rungs on the monkey bars to going the entire distance – about two metres. Sure, that two metres (which I did FOUR times last Saturday) was using the outside of the bars not the rungs, but dudes, HANGING on, holding up my own body weight and FINDING MOMENTUM? So freakin’ proud of myself.
I can do this.
- In that eight weeks I once stood, facing a wall, a weighted ball in my hands that I was meant to be throwing high above a line on the wall while doing squats and cried hot tears. Talking insulting words to myself about not being good enough and of being a total fraud for even thinking I should be there or could do it. I know that voice. It’s been with me as far back as I can remember. I don’t know where it came from or why it’s there. I know that doing this and doing Tough Mudder is a very big part of me kicking that voice to the curb. I know it will raise its head as sure as the son will rise but I also know I’m getting better at ignoring it.
- In fact, in that eight weeks I’ve cried twice – the second time was last week but that was because it was, for me, a brutal training session coupled with being ‘one of those weeks’ where my body just felt like lead. That I can even recognise this is a grand achievement in my book.
- In that eight weeks I have, with one other CrossFitter, lifted a tractor tire and flipped it. Many times. Fuck that was hard.
- In that eight weeks I have remembered that doing this, while hard and painful, is fun and makes me feel so good both inside and out.
- In that eight weeks I have not lost a pound. I am hoping now the thyroid issue has been identified and meds put in place that goal – to lose the 15 kilos putting me at risk of heart disease and diabetes and a life in loose fitting garments – will come into view.