Just like a naked school dream, but real!

December 1, 2010 § Leave a comment

On my way home from work I remembered a story from our trip that I really, really wanted to share. Unfortunately I did not write it down before stopping for a Cross Fit class. Folks, that memory has been beaten clean out of me.

I’ve gone to a few (read: three) Cross Fit classes, and so far I’ve really enjoyed them. Even when I can’t lift my arms above my waist the next day.  Today was different in that they brought out the box. My whole life, I have thought that boxes were fantastic and magical objects in which presents are delivered. How wrong I was.

Some people can do box jumps nearly as tall as I am, wearing a twenty-pound weight vest, seated. Sadly, I am not this guy:

No, I’m not even close to being that badass. What I am, though, is really stupid when faced with a challenge. So when the instructor had everyone perform five practice box jumps during warm-up (24-inch boxes for the women) I stood in line with everybody else. I didn’t ask for a smaller box, despite A) never having done a single box jump before, B) having legs that are a mere 4″ longer than the box is tall and C) being pretty much the opposite of coordinated. All these thoughts crossed my mind as I waited at the end of the line for my turn, and I successfully ignored each of them.

You may have noticed my saying I was at the end of the line. That means that my turn was after everybody else. It also means that my turn was not shared with other people in the class, but instead consisted of me, alone, trying to jump on top of a too-big box in front of thirteen people who are far more capable of doing this than I am*. Had I realized I would be performing for a room of people capable of box-jumping before I found myself in front of them, it would have been a very convincing item D to add to my list of reasons to ask for a sissy box.

But me? I was too busy ignoring points A-C to realize. The good news is that I got out of doing four out of five public practice jumps (and all of my “real” jumps on the sissy box, actually) by nearly severing my legs mid-shin on the edge of the box as I tried to heave my little body up there the very first time. You should have heard that cracking noise. Actually, if you were within a couple miles of the gym you might have.

Thank god I didn’t cry.** I suspect there are no tears allowed  in Cross Fit.

* Just like that dream where you’re called to the blackboard to solve an impossible physics equation, then realize that you are naked and the rest of the class is Albert Einstein at various life stages. Except this really happened.
** Until I got home. Screw you, my shins still hurt.
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