This is what happens when double unders die in the middle of a WOD
and the Thrusters, even at 35 pounds, are done really quickly.
Tonight is Fight Gone Bad. I haven’t done it in months. The last time I did, I broke an ankle.
Yeah, it certainly did.
I think it’s pretty clear that I don’t like DNFing but I had no reason to do so until two minutes before FGB was finished that I totally experienced the brain-splitting agony of a DNF.
I saw in the morning that Coach had done and PRed on Fight Gone Bad, so I really hoped that we were doing it. I was stoked, to say the least. I sent Boyfriend a text with a big smiley face and anticipated the end of the day.
During warmups, I grabbed my jump rope and started doing single unders during one of my favorite Dubstep songs: “Zombies ate my neighbors” by Schoolboy. I jumped to the beat and every now and then tried doing a double under. On the fourth or so try, the rope didn’t smack my shins and I looked down to see the rope was still moving. I had just gotten a double under. I immediately burst into a crazy-person laugh before announcing it finally happened! Then I kept going. A few single unders and I’d have the double under. I tried stringing them together but I figured it was about actually doing them, not getting many together.
We warmed up with a skill of Turkish Getups, something I don’t think I’m very good at, but I managed to get 5 done without dropping the little 10 pound bell on my head so I viewed it as a win.
The strength was a bit of a let down to me. It was 7 sets of 2 hang power cleans into a push jerk. I knew my normal power clean was something upwards of 100 pounds, so I figured it’d be OK. I got up to 85 pounds in the fifth set and got one but couldn’t get the bar up before I bailed. This occurred for another two rounds and I could only get one clean out of the high hang position. It pissed me off after the third time. I yelled out and kept trying to shake out my shoulders but the stupid bar just wouldn’t go up. I settled there but it was still on my mind.
We had a few minutes to set up for the WOD and we were told to use a bar for the Sumo-Deadlift Hi-Pulls and a different bar on the other side of the gym for the Push Press. I set them both up at 35 since I don’t know what my SDHP is, and I figured I’d be gassed from everything else and I went along my business.
After about 15 SDHP I couldn’t really feel my shoulders. I did box jumps on five 45 pound plates, Did wall balls with a 10 pound ball and got about 10 calories rowed in each round.
It was the third round that it all went down: The SDHP went fine, I got 15 that round and moved onto the box jumps where I got another 13, went back to the push press and got up to 45 total reps. At the rotation I headed to the rower. I’m sure it was all very graceful and everything as it happened. I’m making my way to the rower and all of a sudden my foot decided to stop supporting me and it rolled under me and I went down in a mass of flailing arms and ridiculous expressions. I yelled out an “OW!” and banged my fists on the mat (to show that mat-bastard just how angry I was with it) and coach made his way over to me, helped me onto a plyo box and told me to stay there for a few minutes. I cradled my idiot ankle for a good five minutes while the rest of the people there made it through the WOD Without injury and, after removing my shoe, I hobbled over to the front of the box to my stuff.
I told Coach my reps and was sad to say my total was 178, which would have definitely been over 200 had I not killed myself. I massaged the ankle a bit and traced the alphabet before putting my shoe on and hobbled out of the building. I stopped at Walgreens, bought an ACE bandage and some one-time use ice packs and made my way to knit night where I put my foot up on a stool and iced it for an hour or so. I hobbled home around 9:30 and had to face the THREE FLIGHTS OF STAIRS in my apartment to get from my car to my bed. Not cool.
I got into the apartment, got up to bed and started a load of laundry before removing the ace bandage to replace it with the good cloth one in my medicine cabinet. I slept so hard and good thanks to the three advil I popped. I woke up at 6:30, took off the ace bandage and tried to gingerly stand with the foot.
Probably a bad idea. I dragged the foot behind me into the bathroom and narrowly made it into the shower without falling over. Hot water made it feel better and I was feeling a little more dextrous after that. I applied two strips of KT Tape (because it’s all I had) and wrapped the ace bandage around me again. I found a crappy old pair of ballet flats and slid into them even though they don’t match my outfit; they fit my giant foot, so I went with it.
Three flights of stairs taken one step at a time and I was in my car on my way to work. The ice pack was on my desk and my foot was on it. I didn’t care how unprofessional it was; if someone said anything to me, I’d show them the giant club I have for a foot and they’d be able to walk away.
So I guess the fight really did go bad… I called the chiropractor and hope to have an appointment in the next couple days and I’m thinking a modwod is in order for later this week to avoid the ankle, but still give me a good workout.
The three advil I took earlier today have kicked in. Excuse me while I go get the ice pack.