So, I joined a CrossFit gym, and my motto for my gym is Physically Strong, Mentally Tough.
I'm not really either of those things, so some days that makes for a hard day.
Last night was one of those days.
We started with a front squat. I suck at those. My technique was bad for the first 4 or 5 sets. By then my wrists were KILLING me. Finally got the hand/arm position right, and I had a hell of a time getting my butt to the ball. I try not to bitch, even to myself, about exercises I don't like, you know positive attitude and crap like that, but I flat out DISLIKE front squats. We get to do more today. yay.
Some days we run. Outside at night. In the winter. Where it's cold (HUSH UP! It does, too, get cold down here!). The first time I did this I was a little winded afterward. The second time I was starting to breathe really hard, almost a wheeze but not quite. The third I started to wheeze at the end, and then when we did the second half of our work out I started to outright wheeze. I had to sit down for a few minutes, and then I finished the program.
Last night we were supposed to do 2 laps, 8 times, with 90 seconds between the 2 lap set. I did the first lap ok, but by the time I was done with the second lap I had a hard deep wheeze. It was sort of starting to hurt. So I sat out the 2nd set, then the 3rd set I ran the first lap and walked the second. But by then Christian had quit timing me, which meant I could do what I wanted, but it wouldn't be counted. So, I did 4 more sets, run first lap walk second lap. Give it a minute or so, then again.
About halfway through the second crappy set, with the guys outstripping me by huge lengths, and the other lady doing well herself, I really wanted to cry. I felt weak and pathetic and really quite like an idiot. But I pulled together, and convinced myself I could cry later in my car. Because the only thing that would make me look even more pathetically weak would have been to cry about it.
And then I had to stop and get gas on the way home. So I couldn't cry until I was done getting gas. And by the time I got home I had moved past the point of needing to cry. Except then I was in an exceptionally shitty mood for the rest of the night. And even today, too. I should probably have given in and cried, I would have been rid of the emotion and moved on. But I was trying the whole mentally tough thing. It worked, but I'm not sure the 2 days of being in a shitty mood was worth it.