Motherfucking cocksucker motherfucking shit fucker what am I doing? What am I doing? I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m doing the best that I can. I know that’s all I can ask of myself. Is that good enough? I’m fucked! Maybe I should quit. Don’t quit! Maybe I should just fucking quit. Don’t fucking quit! I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to fucking do anymore! Fucker! Fuck shit!

- Albert Markovski, I <3 Huckabees

I <3 Huckabees is my favorite movie. I haven’t seen it in ages, but I know almost every line by heart. Albert’s opening monologue is obscene, but it’s seriously what goes through my head when I feel like my heart might explode and my lungs are burning and my legs are starting to cramp and my grip is about to fail and I know I have to keep pushing and keep pushing because DON’T FUCKING QUIT.

I didn’t fucking quit today, even though I wanted to. I didn’t even want to go. I never want to go, but 6:45 rolls around and I know I’ll regret it if I don’t get off my lazy ass and get in the car already. Once I’m there, it’s almost easy to keep going. Easier than starting, anyway. Just don’t fucking quit. I made a friend, and she goes almost religiously every MWF at 7pm. I know the workout is difficult for her, because lots of times we’re struggling beside each other, both yelling at the other not to fucking quit. She’s probably tired of hearing me yell the phrase “just one more!” because it’s almost always a lie. There’s always “just one more” after that one more. So I figure if she can get off the couch three times a week, the least I can do is meet her there so we can yell at each other.

Today I got yelled at by someone entirely new. I don’t know her name, but in my mind I think of her as Shorty. She’s teeny and fierce. She does all the workouts as prescribed and still finishes ages before I do. And today, I had about two minutes to go and I wanted to fucking quit, and I almost did, and then I heard Shorty yelling right in my ear not to fucking quit. So I didn’t. I closed my eyes and kept going, and I finished a full minute faster than I thought I would. I’ve been at this gym for less than a month and already I have a handful of people who encourage me more than I’d have dreamed. It’s nice.

When that voice in my head gets too tired to tell me not to fucking quit, there’s someone else’s voice to take over.

It’s almost like that feeling you get when you’re getting ready for a first date. No, no, that’s not it. There’s far more dread involved, and slightly less excitement. Maybe the feeling that you get when your boss is doing “performance reviews” and you might get a bonus or you might get fired. No, not quite that either. It’s a happier thought than that. I can’t quite place it, but when I know I’m going to do what seems to be a particularly tough workout, I am consumed with anxiety. I don’t know what my problem is. I don’t think this is normal. I have butterflies in my stomach ALL DAY before going to the gym. They’re nervous butterflies, but also excited ones. I flip flop wildly between feeling like I will absolutely rock the wod and feeling like I will completely humiliate myself (possibly with tears and/or vomit).

Today was 21/15/9/3 of push presses and pull ups, sandwiched between a 1000 meter row and a 1/2 mile run. It was supposed to be 21/18/15/12/9/6/3, but since we’re a beginner class, coach decided to cut out a bit. Unfortunately, I didn’t know he was going to cut it until after I arrived, so I was consumed by the anxiety of having to do 84 push presses and pull ups all day. I finished in 23:10, which was not very good, but I don’t expect to finish quickly. I mostly just hope to finish at all.

Also, I will never again malign the difficulty of a workout or be disappointed when I’ve completed one that I thought was “too easy”. That “easy” workout from Monday has me hobbling still. Seriously, I can barely walk. I guess I should give it a day or so to set in before I start wondering if a workout was tough. My arms and back feel fine today, but I’ll probably wake up in the middle of the night needing some ibuprofen and be barely able to lift anything tomorrow.

I love that feeling. So far, the anticipation of that feeling is winning over the anxiety. I hope it stays that way.

I started today feeling anxious, the way I always feel when I know I’m going to the gym. I was also feeling excited, though, because we had power cleans and deadlifts on the agenda. I LOVE power cleans and deadlifts! Two of my favorites! Anxious and excited.

When I showed up at about five minutes til, the 6pm class was still on the tail end of the wod. I started my warmup, because I noticed that we had way more people than we had rowing machines. Way too many people. The previous Wednesday and Friday classes had about eight people and two people, respectively. I know that a big class isn’t a bad thing. It can be good, right? You’ve got more people cheering for you, sweating with you, the energy is high and it’s good to feed off that energy. But this class, we were so large that the coach decided to cut out the power cleans. I’m guessing it was because there were too many of us to properly supervise, especially since ours is a beginner class, and because we weren’t even done warming up by around half-past 7. When we got set up for deadlifts and box jumps, the coach went over the movements with us. I’m glad I grabbed a heavier bar than I should have been using for practice, because it was the weight I ended up using for my workout. I wish I’d gotten heavier weights. And instead of a 20″ box, I used a rubber bumper thing… I’d guess it’s around 10-12″.

We did 21 – 15 – 9 of deadlifts and box jumps. My deadlift was only 65# and my box was about a foot high. I finished in 8:03. It was tough for me, because my heartrate elevates so quickly, but it wasn’t tough enough. I barely had to sit to catch my breath or anything! I wish I’d gotten a higher box. I wish I’d insisted on taking the time to make sure my form would still be good with heavier weight. When I was leaving, it was after 8 but I didn’t feel finished. I understand the need to use lighter weights for the deadlift, because fatigue comes on quickly and I need my form to stay perfect. But I think I could have had good form and heavier weight. And I did feel dizziness set in from the whole heartrate thing, but it was almost easy to push through it. There wasn’t too much of a challenge at all.

So I arrived feeling anxious and excited, and I left feeling disappointed. Disappointed in myself? In my coach? In life in general, for making Monday evening so busy? I don’t know. I need to get used to having busy days there and make sure that I push myself just as hard as I do when it’s just me and a couple others so I don’t leave disappointed again.