Feat of "Jackie"

Keywords: CrossFit, "Jackie", 45 lb. bar of doom

The Story: CrossFit is like a scientifically engineered sucker-punch to your body. The varied exercises recruit more muscle fibers than standard gym based strength training. Unlike most standard tri-weekly gym routines, CrossFit is performed at exceedingly high intensities pushing on the anaerobic threshhold. It has been heralded by fire fighters, police, military, paddlers, adventure racers, and olympians for bringing them to new levels. It has also killed a few along the way.

Today I show up at my Wendesday morning CrossFit routine, after 4 weeks away, to find that we are going to do "Jackie" - a workout, like many CrossFit workouts, that is named after a hurricane. "Jackie" is 1000 meters of rowing, 50 thrusters with a 45 lb. bar, then 30 pull-ups. Oh, and that's timed. Here we go. I perform the 1000 meters as best I could, gliding the seat and trying to utilize my best form instead of using my legs and lungs. I'm stoked to finish in 3:57, a time that I would have been proud of as a 19 year-old. I am elated, but this diminishes quickly as I approach my nemesis, the 45#. I feel like a water skier who has just let go of the motor boat. I'm sinking slowly. This week alone I've taught a very challenging kayaking class, and then in a fit of stupidity, rode my mountain bike 69 miles over 7000 vertical feet. But, the bar seems to trump all of this. It's cold and heavy and lifeless. It's going to truely hurt me.

I start my thrusters, 5 and 6 at a time. Each one doesn't feel like an exercise, but a decision. I'm having to talk to myself. Out loud. "One more!" It comes down to my last 6 thrusters and images of the CrossFit mascot, Pukey the Clown, come to mind. I'm getting the irony now - the clown, puking, it's kind of like, "ha-ha you thought this was going to be fun and good, and now look! The funny clown is hurt - he's puking! Joke's on you!" Last one. I bring myself into a low squat and begin to press into my heels. Nothing is happening. I press my lungs down seemingly into my pelvis with my best trumpet cheeks-face and clinch everything I can. In a flash of pain, there's movement, then disbelief - I'm up - and done! Except for the small matter of 30 pull-ups, of which I can do exactly 2.5. Fortunately, in this instance I'm allowed a plywood box to do jumpers from, and I finish off "Jackie" in 19:20. Today, if only briefly, I am my own hero, and it is not even 7am.

At Your Own Risk:
http://www.crossfit.com/