Spartan Crossfit Wimp to Spartan 8 from Peter Murphy on Vimeo.
So after having done Fight Gone Bad on Friday, I needed a walker on Saturday and Sunday. I also had heartburn all weekend. (Fight Gone Bad will age you from the inside out, apparently.) Come Monday, I was still sore, but the heartburn had subsided, and I no longer needed to grab onto things and grunt to get out of my seat. This pleased me. When I had to go back to CFSB, I thought Shane might show a little mercy, seeing as how I was brave enough to venture out of my apartment without the walker (complete with tennis balls on the back two legs). When I got the gym and saw my workout, I thought he would yield for one day and let me recover. The workout itself didn’t look too hard. WRONG! It turns out that he did not, in fact, show any mercy, and he is a devious, giant trainer.
The workout, as I explain in the video, was a 400 m run followed by 30 kettlebell swings. I did this 3 times with an insane amount of rest in between sets: 3 minutes. That was just enough time for my heart rate to stabilize and for the lactic acid to build up and scorch my shot-putter leg muscles. I discovered that once you’ve come to a resting place, it’s quite difficult to start up again. I still maintain that it would have been easier for me to take 15 to 30 seconds in between sets, but alack, alack, that was not the case. For reasons I cannot imagine, with this workout, I got as nauseous as I did during FGB. I’m sure the weekend o’ heartburn didn’t help matters. Still, I internally acknowledged the real possibility that I would projectile vomit, and during my last rest period, I tried to figure out how best to aim it at Shane. Once I had finished that workout, Shaneiqua declared it “Burpee Time.” 45 burpees. Awesome. The session with Shane was complete torture, but once the endorphins kicked in life was “oh so sweet!” So that was the workout, but onto the video.
As I watched this video later, I realized that I flitted in between burpee stations. FLITTED, like a happy little fairy. Happy little fairies don’t do burpees. They drink wine and eat salad and sprinkle fairy dust on unsuspecting children while following around Peter Pan as if he were Matt Damon. They giggle and play and love. I was not that creature. I’m not sure what creature I was, but it does look like I robbed the Easter Bunny of his workout clothes. Powder pink shorts and a mens white undershirt. I look like a Peep. Atrocious. And to make matters worse, I have my hair in a little bunny-bun while I flit from one burpee station to the other. And to make matters doubly worse, my shirt is tied in the back because it was too baggy. I was wearing the nineties, but backwards. Sometimes I want to smack myself and say “Maurya Christine Scanlon, you know they film this, right? And you KNOW you don’t have a wardrobe person? And a little makeup wouldn’t kill you. Just sayin’.”
I have nothing to say about the slow-motion vomit blooper other than, I disgust myself, and Murph is on my list.