Socializing, Athletes, Deadlifts

Coach’s wife, it turns out, has a lot in common with me and we’ve become fast friends. We both are little lifters (she’s tiny); we both knit, can, read, former tennis players, on and on. It’s awesome after all these years to have met “someone like me”.

But there are two problems: 1) when we see each other we spend more time chatting and laughing than we do on our lifts and 2) I know way more about Coach than I ever wanted to know – and we both laugh hysterically that I didn’t even say hello to him for 4 years because I was terrified when in truth he is icky icky sweet.  A little intimidation never hurt me 🙂

All my girls are back from their summer travels and sports camps. My CrossFitter started at the box on Monday…I felt like I was taking her to the first day of kindergarten and when she asked me to stay and watch I said “you don’t need me, you’ve got this! ” and smiled. I have to admit I’m glad it’s dark early now because I cried as I pulled away. Mostly because I’m so proud of her and partly (this is awful) my thoughts of “what should have been…” for me. I said to someone regarding loss: grief doesn’t get easier but it changes us, and therefore it changes.

My program has gotten a little off track and Monday it showed in my deadlifts. For the first time in 8 months my glutes wouldn’t fire. Coach and I reviewed my program and altered the accessories. We invented a new way to do hip thrusts. Returning to deads, weight still low, my hip flexor had so much pain I couldn’t stand up. Coach gave me the third degree, worried it was a repeat of my original injury, until I said “that pain is engraved into every cell in my body. It’s not that. I’m not injured.”

Later that night I was supposed to finish hip thrusts. And I did. Now for the comedic part: this morning I couldn’t walk. I crawled to the shower,  stood up, tried to lift the right leg into the tub, tripped, fell on the faucet, blood everywhere. I told Coach’s Wife I would need a crime scene cleanup crew for the house. The tiniest little cut on my knee did this. What could I do but laugh?

After all, my girls had returned with many hugs and exciting stories.  What’s a few days on ice when I have all that?