Nakedness, CrossFit, and Kip Moore

I would have never thought that before 7:30am on a random Monday, that I would have shown my wet naked body to my mom’s neighbors, that I could be the reason for a 911 call, or that I’d have the potential opportunity to stare down the barrel of my overzealous mother’s handgun.  How did I find myself in such a predicament? Here’s the back-story… 

Every now and again, I wake up in the morning and just decide to be awesome.  I mean really, everyone needs to deviate from the status quo from time-to-time, right?  I was having one of those days a few weeks ago when my friend, Hilaree, and I decided to try the ever-so-popular CrossFit.  Like most people, I had been hearing about CrossFit for a while. But I never really had any interest because I equated it to merely a trend- similar to a run-of-mill fad diet, a LiveStrong yellow bracelet, or P90X.  In our Western world, we are constantly inundated with the next big “thing”, and I was not about to jump on the bandwagon to be just another aficionada or fan of the latest craze.   C’mon, I’ve never been popular or trendy, why start now?  But over the past several months I've had friends, whose opinions I value, get involved with CrossFit and tell me their stories (Ryan & John you are to blame).  I’d also read about how down-to-earth and nice everybody was. With all this talk of no pretension and body transformation, I thought to myself, “Hhhhmmm, sounds doable.”

So there I was, Rachelle’s first day of CrossFit 101.

Being the stellar overachieving athlete that I am (cough, cough, throat clearing sound), I prepared for my first workout throughout the day by eating Taco Bell for lunch, and downing a margarita in the afternoon.   I had anxiety all day thinking about my first class, but I decided to put my big girl panties on, and show up anyway.  Brad, our coach, was awesome. He was super nice, extremely encouraging, very helpful, and beyond patient.  I was relieved that Brad would be our coach throughout the next two weeks. 

Class two was a bit more difficult. This could have been because I was stressed about being late, traffic was horrible, I still had my dog with me, or it could possibly have been because I had two lemon drops prior to working out.   Whatever it was, pulling my flabby body up over a bar, endless burpees, and too many squats to count, just about killed me that day.  CrossFit – 2, Rachelle – 0.

Class three I skipped (winning).  I blame the incompetent employee in our Utah office whose epic blunder required that I stay at work until after 8:00pm.   She also caused me to miss the first day of the Nordstrom sale, so she is definitely on my crap list.  I swear the only good thing about Utah is my friend, Jessica, and lets be honest, she’s from the NW originally.   But I digress. Actually, I heard class three was a doozie, with lots of box jumps and kettle bell swings.  Perhaps I dodged a bullet by missing this class. Okay Utah, you’re off the hook for now.

During the fourth class, I felt like a developmentally challenged kindergartener who was held back for eating paste and not being able to tie her shoes.  Everything seemed so difficult for my brain to process.    Take for example those double unders, I mean really??  How hard is it to make that damn rope make two passes per jump instead of one??  Well, let me tell you, my bleeding shins and the one-on-one “coaching” I required, says it apparently takes more coordination than I possess.  I had a momentary flashback to my elementary school playground and wondered if busting out in song would help my skills, “Miss Suzy had a tugboat, the tugboat had a bell, Miss Suzy went to heaven, Rachelle was in HELL!”  I also had a hard time with the push jerks and power snatches. Sadly, I did not get to hear anyone tell me, “Nice snatch!” After fighting through a slow start, I did feel as if I was beginning to get the hang of things and show some improvement. Maybe I’ll pass summer school and move up to first grade with the rest of my class after all. 

The fifth day was my favorite (for fatty lazy reasons). Brad showed us proper techniques for some of the more difficult lifts. I may have blocked out the awful, but the class seemed more about instruction than destruction, and I quite liked it. At one point I did have to chuckle though, Brad referenced Gym Jones. Sure, he was referring to Gym Jones the training philosophy of some mountain climber.  But when I heard Jim Jones, I immediately thought about that whack-job cult leader infamous for the 1978 mass murder/ suicide.  Perhaps these CrossFit/Paleo types ARE slightly reminiscent of religious fanatics of some kind.   It made me wonder if I should be concerned about the water from the drinking fountain being laced with cyanide.  Thank goodness I had brought my own bottle from home.

Our sixth class was the final. It was great! We ran through the baseline again and were able to see our improvement since the first class (thank God my time actually did go down). For me, the highlight of this class was doing the handstands. I found it to be a fun way to mix things up, and it was something my uncoordinated ass could actually do.  I’ll skip over the fact that my lifting form is still subpar and I had to be babysat yet again!!

Which brings me to today…

Hilaree and I took our first official CrossFit class after completing the 101 series (no training wheels for us this morning).    I was again ridiculously nervous, not because I care about appearing weak or crapping myself in a state of utter fatigue, but just because most of the exercises are so foreign to me, and for some reason my brain struggles to simply “see and do.” If you think I’m exaggerating, ask anyone who has seen me dance sober or trained with me (there is a reason I run instead). The class ended up going well. I’m so glad I went, even if I had to be corrected a zillion times for using my arms in the power clean. When we were done, I grabbed my bag and headed for a quick shower. Unfortunately, I realized that I had forgotten my soap and face wash.  This probably adds to the case of packing my bag before I consumed my evening wine. 

Thinking quickly on my feet, this was no problem, my mom lived just a few miles away and I could just run over there to shower, and then head to work.   I shot her a warning text saying I was stopping by for a quick shower, and then I got in my car and headed off.   When I arrived, I unlocked the door, then relocked it behind me and headed upstairs to use her shower (and her expensive products).  Her dog greeted me and trotted down the hallway wagging her tail the whole way.   My mom was still asleep, so I shut the bathroom door and took my shower.   I wasn’t especially quiet; I dropped a few things, and even rocked out to Kip Moore a bit. And I must day, I feel I delivered a strong performance... “Something about a truck in a field and a girl in a red sundress with an ice cold beer to her lips, begging for another kiss… Something about you and me and the birds and the bees and Lord have mercy it's a beautiful thing, ain't nothing about it luck, something about a truck!”  Yes! Definitely Grammy worthy.  When I got out of the shower, I called out to my mom because I was looking for lotion, but no response.  So I stuck my head out and realized she wasn’t in her bed.   Assuming she had gone downstairs to take her dog out, I walked my naked wet ass out into the hallway and called to her again…  I heard her very nearby voice say “Sissy, is that you?” Much to my surprise, there was a welcoming committee waiting at the top of the stairs, and all eyes were on me.

Apparently, my mom never saw the text, and woke up to someone in the house, and naturally thought that clearly it MUST be an intruder. Yeah, because most intruders lock the door behind them after entering, leave their purse in the hallway, find the shower furthest from the exit, and bathe.   Either way, she alerted the neighbors, and they all agreed that calling 911 was a reasonable solution. Luckily I surprised them before they had decided whether or not to beat me to death with my grandfather’s antique golf clubs or to shoot me…but I assure you both were ready and viable options for this crowd.   The comedy of the situation rapidly relieved the panic my impromptu shower visit had caused, although not quickly enough- we did stand around laughing and talking a bit longer than you would think… especially considering I was still naked.