Burpees for Breakfast

Determination will get you through this.
Today’s WOD Mantra

Since starting Crossfit, I’ve developed what can only be described as a love hate relationship with the fantastic men and women that we call our coaches.  At my box, Crossfit LWR, they always come up with new ways to motivate you.  Today I got two comments from my coach that I will probably hold with me for a long time.

Comment 1: I was asked  “who is this girl is that you’ve been bringing to the box every day, because she’s not the one that was coming a few months ago.”

Since it was 6 a.m., and I was grunting my way through a snatch pull at a weight that I never thought I would be able to deadlift much less thrust and hop with, I needed some clarification.

I asked my coach if this girl is better than the girl from a few months ago, and he responded “no, this one is badass.”

I’m sorry, but when a dude that could snatch me if he put his mind to it says I’m badass, I get a little more pimp in my limp if you know what I’m sayin…

The second comment came later, once the pimp juice wore off.

Comment 2: I was near the end of a burpee infested WOD, with about 10 burpees left to go and I really really really just wanted to quit.

My coach knew it, and took a very active approach with making sure I didn’t.  Standing at my side, counting down the last 15 reps for me, he came up with the perfect thing to say.  He told me “don’t feel sorry for yourself.  Get your ass down there and hop back up and finish this WOD.”

Clearly, he has ESP because yes, in that moment, I was feeling sorry for myself.   I was thinking I was having an off day, that the WOD was way too hard, that I would never get good at burpees, that I should have lied about the total I had left to do… and on and on and on.

That one comment put it all in perspective and snapped me out of it completely.  I’m there because I want to be.  I’m there because it makes me better.  And for the love of bacon and kale, if I just do 10 more burpees I can collapse and pant and puke if needed.  So I did them.

They weren’t pretty.  In fact I’m sure the last few were reminiscent of a stripper worm maneuver, boobs up first then booty in the air then flop back on my stomach panting and dripping with sweat, but I didn’t care.

At 6 a.m. you don’t get points for style… thank god, since most days I don’t bother brushing my hair.


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