That's what I'm calling it.
My recent deep dive toward self-immolation.
GI Jane is 100 burpee-pull ups for time
Randy is a hero WOD to honor a fallen LA SWAT sergeant, 75lb power snatch at 75lbs.
Today I did 10 rounds, for time, of 7 power snatches at 75lbs and 10 burpee pull ups, finished by the missing 5 power snatches.
Small rip on one hand from the very slick and shiney bars.
Many small tears in lungs and soul, from the crushing feeling in my lungs and legs as I ground through all ten sets. My mind resisted so much, I kept wanting to change it to 7 rounds, or amrap in 10 minutes, or anything but what I set out to do. Before I knoew it I had pressed on. The bar called a siren's song which felt like home, lifting my up after every time I dropped into the burpee. In my mind's eye getting over the bar meant getting 'home' to where I belong.
Felling like up and over the bar is home, now that is a sickness. For that twenty minutes it was home. Throwing myself under one bar, pulling myself up and over another. Nothing mattered but the bar. Get under it, stand! Get on it, pull! drop! again!
CrossFit is gonna kill me, but it has saved my life.