Early Monday morning I roused him from his teenage slumber, forced him to eat and get dressed to join me at CrossFit Prescott.
It's his first day, and I have a still broken hand. The plan is for Lad to go through the training, and we (Joey & I) adapt it for my broken bones.
Day One starts with rowing-which I can now do by hooking the bar in the crook of my elbow. I instruct Lad in the regular technique...
What's impressive is I am able to keep my speed under 3 minutes per 500 meters basically utilizing just my legs...I'm feeling a twinge of pride when I finish my 500 meters one second behind my lanky 6'2" boy who is using both legs and arms. We head over for instruction; I am determined to observe only, and not talk.
At a certain point, Joey tells Lad NOT to look at me....so I jump up and move behind him. I cringe watching his awkwardness...surely he inherited that from his mother, eh?
The Professor assures me everyone looks that way when they start.
As Laddie figures it out, Joey and I set up the adaptions. Instead of ring pulls, we switch it to straps which hug my wrists, eliminating the need to hold on. For kettle bell squats, he threads a chain with straps on the end through the handle-I can position them on my wrists or in the crook of my arm (and oh my word-to do weighted squats again-delicious. I am so infected with the weight bug.) Push-ups are out of the question (lol-I couldn't do them before, nevertheless now) so a 45 sec plank is substituted. Regular squats needed no adaption...and off we went on three sets (10 for him, 15 for me.)
It felt this fantastic.
I loved it.
Yes, I finished after my son. But I freaking got it done-with a broken hand.
The rest of the day I ran from appointment to appointment...and I felt great.
Perhaps it just takes three months for endorphins to kick in?
Or is it because I shared it with someone?
Perfect day.
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