Pushing through.

Chris and I started this crossfit journey 2 months ago. In that time, I missed about 5 classes or so. While I've seen so many positive changes and surprised myself many times--like going from not being able to do any butterfly situps to doing 30 or not being able to jump rope at all to jumping 100 times in one minute or hurling 80 pounds over my head? Yeah, I've progressed. Yet, my disappointment and frustration in what I am still unable overwhelms me. Takes hold of my focus. Pushes me to feel trapped. See the thing is that the pieces of crossfit that I really love above all other types of programs is the competition aspect. I like a challenge. I always have. I like to win. I like to beat people and I love to surprise them with my mightiness. Last night was tough for me. I am not a good loser. It isn't pretty. In fact, I am a pretty pathetic loser. Our WOD was the following--5 rounds of 15 calorie row, 15 pull ups (with bands), 15 dragon crawls, 15 sit ups and 15 wall balls. Everything was easy except the friggin pull ups. I used to be that girl in elementary school and even high school that surprised everyone with her strength. I could do pull ups. I was pretty much the only girl in my grade who could! It was awesome. My how times have changed. This same movement has caused me frustration, anger and disappointment. Every single person passed me by a round. I sucked. Standing on that box, trying to muster the strength to do one more. "Just do them in groups of 5," Jimmy, our coach, said. Ha. I couldn't even do 2 at a time. It took me forever. Tears trickled down my cheeks. I just hate that I am so weak. I want nothing more than to conquer this beast then shove it down everyone's throats. It ticks me off. I managed two rounds of 15, then 7 on each of the next three rounds. That was it. That was all I had. I was pissed. I don't like anyone cheering me on, especially when I am suffering; however, there is a huge difference between cheering on old school style where everyone crowds around the person and chants and the version where you walk up to someone who was struggling and say "you got this" or "keep pushing." Not one person could manage to support me. It's funny. I am typically the one who offers encouragement to each person. I don't beat them over the head with it, but I walk by and say something supportive or I stop and help Chris put his foot in the fricken strap when he is already a round ahead. Yeah, me. But again, not one person--not even my husband attempted to help me up when I was down. Frustrating. We talked about this last night at home--just briefly. Chris actually didn't do much talking. In fact, he didn't even say a word until I made a comment pointing out his lack of response or acknowledgement.

It's funny. Chris and I have been together for almost 18 years. That's a heck of a long time. I like to think that I know him, know what bugs him, know what he needs, know what makes him tick. There are many times, I feel like he has no clue about me nor does he really want to know. Don't get me wrong. I love him. I think he tries to make me happy. I think he looks at superficial things--helping with kids, buying me things or cleaning. However, I don't think he attempts any romance or emotional connections. That is what I find most frustrating. I guess I am old school. The romance comes from the guy. He is old, old school thinking that woman need to dote on their man. I should have seen that coming when he first started resting his head on my shoulder. I hate that. I don't think it is appropriate. What woman doesn't want to feel secure? What woman doesn't want to feel nurtured? What woman doesn't want to be treated like a princess? I hope my girls choose their men very carefully. Material things are great, but hopefully that won't be the focus of love. I pray they find someone who will continue to open car doors, tell them their beautiful, surprise them with flowers, plan impromptu dates, hug them, kiss them, and treat them like the amazing gift they are. I miss so much of that. I know it is a two sided street. I know I am just as much to blame, but it doesn't make the emptiness any less. Without these pieces, I can't help but think ahead to when our children are grown and out of our house. What will Chris and I do? What will we have to talk about? Will we simply be roommates? That is my fear. The fear is real. It is justified.

I am a strong person. I will push through whatever crap this is. I will conquer the friggin pull up. I will find happiness. I will rediscover myself and navigate the path that was intended for me. I just hope I do it with the support of my husband.