The last time I went to a Crossfit class with box jumps, I couldn't attempt them. I was still too scared. It was a partner workout, and the person that I was partnered with told me that they had also had an incident with box jumps back in October.
That person confidently assured me that I couldn't do the box jumps because I would be too afraid, because the my mind wouldn't let me.
Even though I couldn't do it that day, I resolved at that moment to prove that person wrong. Maybe they couldn't get over their box jump issues, but that didn't mean that their hang-ups were my hang-ups. My box jump injury had happened just a few weeks previously! There's no way I'd let it turn into months. No way!
But for a while, I didn't know how to get over it. I looked up information on how to get over fear of box jumps. I read posts and articles. I watched videos. Even with all of that, I needed to practice. I managed to convince my husband to let me try jumping onto the bed (but I didn't), but then the Rec Center brought in the jump platforms.
I'm using the platforms to get used to the motion of jumping successfully, and I'm pretty sure that the height that I'm jumping is comparable to the height of the boxes at Crossfit.
I did 2 sets of 20 jumps today.
I really need to thank that person...
Jeanne Bustamante on fitness and backpacking, new posts every Wednesday
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Sunday, February 23, 2014
The Worst That Could Happen
On Wednesday when I tried to get myself doing box jumps again, I asked myself, "What's the worst that could happen?"
I decided the worst case scenario in trying to jump on the platform would be banging my shin again and getting a bruise.
Yesterday, that happened.
Surprisingly, the sky did not fall.
I left a bit of skin on the platform, and I kept going to finish my set.
While I went on with the rest of my workout, I found a bump growing on my leg, so I got some ice and iced it in between sets. And then I ran 2 miles on a treadmill.
And the sky did not fall.
So, I guess I've finally learned how to work past little injuries and inconveniences when I'm working out.
Took me long enough!
I decided the worst case scenario in trying to jump on the platform would be banging my shin again and getting a bruise.
Yesterday, that happened.
Surprisingly, the sky did not fall.
I left a bit of skin on the platform, and I kept going to finish my set.
While I went on with the rest of my workout, I found a bump growing on my leg, so I got some ice and iced it in between sets. And then I ran 2 miles on a treadmill.
And the sky did not fall.
So, I guess I've finally learned how to work past little injuries and inconveniences when I'm working out.
Took me long enough!
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Jumping the Box
I haven't jumped on a box since I managed to scrape and bruise the heck out of my shin back at the end of December. There's actually still a bruise on it, a faded but persistent reminder of what happens when you try something that your body is too fatigued to accomplish. At least, that's how I like to think of what happened. I mean, I managed 20 jumps, and then I couldn't manage just that 1. I missed just once, and it kept me from jumping again.
I knew I had the height, because I'd already done it. I knew I could do it, but every time after that fall that I tried again, the nerves would defeat me. My heart would race and my stomach would clench and my muscles would tense and I could not make myself jump onto the box. I could jump next to it, or in front of it, but not onto it. My body refused.
This week, the rec center rolled out some new equipment for the weight room. And the upstairs apparatus that my husband and I usually use was partially broken. So we went downstairs, where the beefy guys hang out and do their beefy guy lifting. We usually didn't lift weights downstairs because we (okay, I) were intimidated by the beefers. But today we braved it, and it wasn't too crowded, being the Saturday morning of a three day weekend.
And it was okay. The new equipment was smooth and shiny and there were all sorts of new options. Kettle bells were available and a v-bar and medicine balls and these funny little movable platforms that we finally realized were for jumping. They hooked into the large cable cross type machine at a variety of heights, and one of them seemed to me to be about the height of the boxes at my crossfit place.
So I tried to jump on it.
And I couldn't.
I couldn't make myself jump on it. But aside from not being a wooden box, this black, grip-surfaced platform had another advantage for me. It was reflected in a mirror. I faced the mirror and stood well back from the platform and when I jumped, I could see that my feet had clearance. I could see that I could indeed jump that high.
So I stepped closer. And I couldn't jump. Each attempt was aborted before it began, cancelled out by the fear - the fear of what? I asked myself. What's the worst that could happen? I bruise my shin again. I fall and embarrass myself in front of all the beefers. That's not the end of the world.
In between sets of weight-lifting, I continued to try. I did step ups to accustom myself to the height. I did jumps at the next lower level to accustom myself to the motion and landing on the platform. I did more mirror jumps to convince myself that I had the height.
When my husband was done with his workout, I did my last tries as he waited and watched and tried to help. I was muttering to myself, "I have this. I know I have this. Just do it. Just jump. Just do it."
I jumped and bounced my toes off the platform. There, body, that's proof! You do have this!
I jumped again and again only caught the platform for a moment with my toes before jumping back down. My husband wanted to leave, but I knew I had it, and I knew that I had to do it again while I had my body convinced.
I jumped and landed on top of the platform, straightening and pushing my hips forward for a proper finish. Heart racing, back aching from tension and eyes stinging from the sweat dripping down my face, I still felt like embarrassing myself with a triumphant yell.
I settled for admiring myself in the mirror for a moment before heading on to the next phase of the workout.
I can jump past my fear. I knew I could, but now my body knows, too.
I knew I had the height, because I'd already done it. I knew I could do it, but every time after that fall that I tried again, the nerves would defeat me. My heart would race and my stomach would clench and my muscles would tense and I could not make myself jump onto the box. I could jump next to it, or in front of it, but not onto it. My body refused.
This week, the rec center rolled out some new equipment for the weight room. And the upstairs apparatus that my husband and I usually use was partially broken. So we went downstairs, where the beefy guys hang out and do their beefy guy lifting. We usually didn't lift weights downstairs because we (okay, I) were intimidated by the beefers. But today we braved it, and it wasn't too crowded, being the Saturday morning of a three day weekend.
And it was okay. The new equipment was smooth and shiny and there were all sorts of new options. Kettle bells were available and a v-bar and medicine balls and these funny little movable platforms that we finally realized were for jumping. They hooked into the large cable cross type machine at a variety of heights, and one of them seemed to me to be about the height of the boxes at my crossfit place.
So I tried to jump on it.
And I couldn't.
I couldn't make myself jump on it. But aside from not being a wooden box, this black, grip-surfaced platform had another advantage for me. It was reflected in a mirror. I faced the mirror and stood well back from the platform and when I jumped, I could see that my feet had clearance. I could see that I could indeed jump that high.
So I stepped closer. And I couldn't jump. Each attempt was aborted before it began, cancelled out by the fear - the fear of what? I asked myself. What's the worst that could happen? I bruise my shin again. I fall and embarrass myself in front of all the beefers. That's not the end of the world.
In between sets of weight-lifting, I continued to try. I did step ups to accustom myself to the height. I did jumps at the next lower level to accustom myself to the motion and landing on the platform. I did more mirror jumps to convince myself that I had the height.
When my husband was done with his workout, I did my last tries as he waited and watched and tried to help. I was muttering to myself, "I have this. I know I have this. Just do it. Just jump. Just do it."
I jumped and bounced my toes off the platform. There, body, that's proof! You do have this!
I jumped again and again only caught the platform for a moment with my toes before jumping back down. My husband wanted to leave, but I knew I had it, and I knew that I had to do it again while I had my body convinced.
I jumped and landed on top of the platform, straightening and pushing my hips forward for a proper finish. Heart racing, back aching from tension and eyes stinging from the sweat dripping down my face, I still felt like embarrassing myself with a triumphant yell.
I settled for admiring myself in the mirror for a moment before heading on to the next phase of the workout.
I can jump past my fear. I knew I could, but now my body knows, too.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Crossfit Rides Again!
Last night, I scraped together some savings and purchased a 10 class pass for Crossfit. I don't have the time or the money to do an unlimited month like I did before, but I truly love this exercise and this gym. I missed it, and I felt like I wasn't challenging myself enough with regular workouts. Okay, also, I got a bit sick the last couple weeks and probably wouldn't have gone much even if I had the ability to do so...
But last night I was back and it felt so good. It was good to see people that I had trained with before and have the coaches remember my name and work my butt off.
It was nice that my hands got plenty of time to heal up from the abuse of tearing all my callouses off. Since then, I've done some research on the best way to handle callouses in the future. There are two schools of thought, roughly, one that advocates gloves and one that advocates smooth callouses. Either way, I'm going to need to invest in some sort of hand care if I want to keep that from happening again.
And class began with a very real reminder that I haven't, as of yet, done that.
The skill portion of the class was a pull up ladder. For 10 minutes, every minute, we would start a set of strict pull ups. No kipping, jumping, or hip movement in general. The first set is 1. The second is 1 + 1. Then 1 + 1 + 1, and etc... until the last set is 10. If at any point in the set, the pull up fails to be strict, then the next set starts over at 1.
The first set is easy! The tenth... not so much. I used a green band and a blue band in tandem to assist my pull ups. I tried using just the green, but I only got through 3 sets that way. Then I used both. I don't know if I ever broke form enough to start over, but it seems like everyone did because at the start of the last set, everyone started putting stuff away so I stopped at 7. It was hard enough to get that many, and it was likely that I broke form at some point.
I was really confused as to how the timed portion of the workout would go, partly because I had no idea what hand release push ups were supposed to be:
3 Sets against a 4 minute clock:
- Row 750m
- Max rep Hand release push-ups
- Rest 4 minutes
My mind conjured visions of push ups that end in a clap or with a jump or something else equally difficult. Turns out the rowing was much more difficult than the push ups.
It seems that certain members of the gym, mostly male, have been "cheating" their push ups. The goal (for this gym) is to get the chest on the floor for each rep, and some people had been only bending their elbows moderately. So, in order for a hand release push up to be performed, one must go all the way down to the floor and lift up one's hands. Just a simple little lift, no theatrics needed. That motion guarantees that the chest has reached the ground.
I actually find it easier to go all the way down during a push up than to try and keep my chest up, so this was not a huge deal for me. The rowing, however, was a doozy. My rowing speed tends to be about 2:20 per 500 meters. And now, I had 4 minutes to do 750 meters and then as many push ups as possible in the time remaining.
I was always one of the last to get off the rower, but at least I did complete the 750 each time. I managed 16 push ups on the 1st round, 20 on the 2nd and 18 on the 3rd, for a total of 54. My rowing speed was fastest for the 2nd round, but I'm not sure how I did it. It seemed like every time I pushed the speed close to 2 minutes per 500 meters, it would just creep right back up no matter what I did.
I think my legs are too short.
Actually, I think I'm going to start practicing rowing more. And I need to find out where I can get a jump rope at the rec center so I can work on those double unders... Pull ups are a hard one. There's an assisted machine, but it never feels like I can get the right hand grip there. And the only pull up bar I know of there is so high I have to jump to the edge of my range just to grab it.
But still, with only having budget for one Crossfit class per week, I'm going to be trying to work on skills where and when I can.
Hm... if I use my bed to work on box jumps and the wall to work on hand stand push ups, I wonder who will complain first, my husband or my neighbors...?
But last night I was back and it felt so good. It was good to see people that I had trained with before and have the coaches remember my name and work my butt off.
It was nice that my hands got plenty of time to heal up from the abuse of tearing all my callouses off. Since then, I've done some research on the best way to handle callouses in the future. There are two schools of thought, roughly, one that advocates gloves and one that advocates smooth callouses. Either way, I'm going to need to invest in some sort of hand care if I want to keep that from happening again.
And class began with a very real reminder that I haven't, as of yet, done that.
The skill portion of the class was a pull up ladder. For 10 minutes, every minute, we would start a set of strict pull ups. No kipping, jumping, or hip movement in general. The first set is 1. The second is 1 + 1. Then 1 + 1 + 1, and etc... until the last set is 10. If at any point in the set, the pull up fails to be strict, then the next set starts over at 1.
The first set is easy! The tenth... not so much. I used a green band and a blue band in tandem to assist my pull ups. I tried using just the green, but I only got through 3 sets that way. Then I used both. I don't know if I ever broke form enough to start over, but it seems like everyone did because at the start of the last set, everyone started putting stuff away so I stopped at 7. It was hard enough to get that many, and it was likely that I broke form at some point.
I was really confused as to how the timed portion of the workout would go, partly because I had no idea what hand release push ups were supposed to be:
3 Sets against a 4 minute clock:
- Row 750m
- Max rep Hand release push-ups
- Rest 4 minutes
My mind conjured visions of push ups that end in a clap or with a jump or something else equally difficult. Turns out the rowing was much more difficult than the push ups.
It seems that certain members of the gym, mostly male, have been "cheating" their push ups. The goal (for this gym) is to get the chest on the floor for each rep, and some people had been only bending their elbows moderately. So, in order for a hand release push up to be performed, one must go all the way down to the floor and lift up one's hands. Just a simple little lift, no theatrics needed. That motion guarantees that the chest has reached the ground.
I actually find it easier to go all the way down during a push up than to try and keep my chest up, so this was not a huge deal for me. The rowing, however, was a doozy. My rowing speed tends to be about 2:20 per 500 meters. And now, I had 4 minutes to do 750 meters and then as many push ups as possible in the time remaining.
I was always one of the last to get off the rower, but at least I did complete the 750 each time. I managed 16 push ups on the 1st round, 20 on the 2nd and 18 on the 3rd, for a total of 54. My rowing speed was fastest for the 2nd round, but I'm not sure how I did it. It seemed like every time I pushed the speed close to 2 minutes per 500 meters, it would just creep right back up no matter what I did.
I think my legs are too short.
Actually, I think I'm going to start practicing rowing more. And I need to find out where I can get a jump rope at the rec center so I can work on those double unders... Pull ups are a hard one. There's an assisted machine, but it never feels like I can get the right hand grip there. And the only pull up bar I know of there is so high I have to jump to the edge of my range just to grab it.
But still, with only having budget for one Crossfit class per week, I'm going to be trying to work on skills where and when I can.
Hm... if I use my bed to work on box jumps and the wall to work on hand stand push ups, I wonder who will complain first, my husband or my neighbors...?
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