I don’t usually get mad at myself. I’m not the kind of person that follows sports or athletes. Rarely do I honestly want to walk away.
Today it was all of those things.
Last night I felt like I was finally getting my groove back physically. I knew I could crush today’s WOD since I’ve done it before. Yet 10 reps into my hanging knees raises my eyes were hot with tears as I realized my abs were still on a hiatus. The week before my celiacs kept me out of the gym for a full week. Without keeping up on my ab workouts my diastisi recti slacked and I suddenly felt like I was back at square one.
I’m not gonna lie, I was mad. Mad at myself. Mad at my body. Mad at the situation. Mad that I was mad. This crap was getting old and all I wanted was to do what I knew I used to be able to do for one workout.
On my last 400m run I was thinking about CrossFit athlete @amandajbarnhart who made it all the way to the games this year only to twist her ankle in event 3 that morning. Her words ringing in my ears. “I had moments of tears, I had moments of anger, and honestly I had moments where I just wanted to give up because I was so sick of “dealing with it.” BOOM. That’s why I was mad.
I’m tired of dealing with it. Sick of watching everything I eat, reading all the ingredients and then living through so much pain when there’s an accidental exposure. Sick of knowing I used to be able to knock out hundreds of sit-ups and now I can’t even do one because the space is still too big. Sick of never being allowed to slack in my core workouts because otherwise it’s ten steps back. I’m 6 years into my diagnosis and 2 years post second kid and today I was just sick of dealing with it.
But then my mind wandered to the remainder of her competition. She simply got back up, let the medics wrap up here ankle and took care of business. In the end she took seventh. SEVENTH. In the world. WITH A BUM ANKLE.
Let’s face the truth of our emotions instead of hiding them, let it out instead of keep it in, take a breath and try again tomorrow. Our obstacles do not define us. Rather the amount of times we keep coming back does. So here’s to starting again tomorrow.