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I didn’t give up. I didn’t stop. I got through my first week at CrossFit. As an official card-carrying member.

I really don’t know how I did it.

Monday was a blur. I remember feeling terrified — and then confused — and then stubborn — and then sore. That was about it.

I got home afterwards, accidentally dropped something on the floor, and it stayed there for two days. There was absolutely no way I was bending down to get something unless my life depended on it. Getting out of bed was a roll and a jump. Stepping out of the shower was a grimace. Basically everything below my waist only worked on a need-to-move basis. No extra motions and no fast movements.

I think my co-workers have become accustomed to my slight muttering under my breath every time I push myself out of a chair, or have to climb the stairs (groaning dramatically) at work.

Today I had a little more time to observe. I was side by side with some mid-level athletes, and was entranced by the high-performance athlete in the room. It didn’t quite look real, the amount of weight he had on his bar. I hope nobody noticed the slack-jawed gape of awe on my face. 

The workout itself was no death-defying stunt, but it wasn’t kind. My already sore thighs are going to go on strike soon. Squats, squats, squats. Get down. Get lower. Go faster. Oh my gosh, if I survive this year I will be amazed. I didn’t even know I had muscles in some places that ache. 

Maybe just being the beginner in the room made a difference in my mental outlook. I felt as though if those people could complete their tasks (which were significantly more difficult) than I should easily be able to complete mine. Also, knowing ahead of time that the workout itself was only going to be seven minutes long really helped. I mean, after all, I’ve gone through labour and delivery with no drugs, so I should be able to push through a little pain, especially when you can see the end is in sight.

Just the first week of 52, so I am now 1.9 per cent done my workouts for the year. I am going to try to convert this non-athlete couch-loving mother into an athletic inspiration for my girls. And somewhere along the way, hopefully I pick up some cool-looking gym wear so that my mom-shoes can hit the dust.

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