Today was Fight Gone Bad at CrossFit for the WOD. I have managed to finagle my training sessions so that I conveniently miss Fight Gone Bad ever since the first time I did it in June. I must say I'm glad I finally went back for more. Despite having a baby inside, I still lifted more weight than when I first began CrossFit and got a way better score. Last time: 215. This time: 247.
I remember when I began CrossFit I couldn't even shoulder press the 30# bar, had to use little dumbells. Now it feels like torture to only use that bar, when I know I can do so much more. I of course am aware that I am scaling down the weights to protect the tiny baby growing inside me, just waiting to out-thrust me and beat me in deadlifts, but that doesn't make it easier to lift what my rugby-brain tells me are whimpy weights while the rest of the athletes to "real work." Each day I add to my mental list of the things I'll do in August (climb a rope to the top, deadlift my body weight, shoulder press 100#...) and these thoughts get me through the light lifts.
I'm pretty proud of the progress I've made in 6 months. It's pretty wild that my pregnant body is stronger than my flubbery pre-CrossFit self. I love the added motivation my pregnancy gives me to stay fit, like I know that each healthy heart beat helps deliver more oxygenated blood to my womb and sets a precedent for my wee one to lead an active life. Maybe I'll be like Carla Overbeck and have a baby so addicted to working out, I'll have to bring him or her to the gym for naptimes, where the sounds and rhythms of the workouts lull the baby to sleep instead of a singing glow worm.
I'm currently experiencing the euphoria I only get when I've improved myself, met and surpassed a challenge. I hope the baby is enjoying this rush along with me. Today, the Fight went well.