The Beauty of All of It

Barbie on Crack.

8 box jumps
8 10 kg kettlebell sumo dead lift high pull
8 walking lunge with kettle bell (10 kg).
AMRAP 8 mins.

I was no barbie. Let me rephrase that. I was NO barbie. And I definitely needed more crack. This was my tired rant after last Saturday's WOD.

I scored 4. As in four pathetic reps in the 8 minutes.

And it seemed not a part of my body was not shaking right after.

A day after, my right arm ached. Two days after the left arm ached. Ached as in thank God for warm compresses and lacrosse ball massages and good old Salonpas (Methyl Salicylate l-Menthol Tocopherol acetate dl-camphor) patches. The cashier at the convenience store asked, "Unsa na ang naa sa imong bukton, ma'am?" (What's that thing on your arm?) I whispered, "I'm not 18 anymore. And this is what happens when you push your 33 year old body to do things you wished you would have done when you were 18." The cashier laughed.  I laughed too.

Because laughter is the best medicine. For bodily aches and psychological aches a.k.a pride.

And why was I at the convenience store? Apart from doing mama duties buying supplies for the boys, I was hoarding additional Salon pas patches. I am laughing as I am typing this.

It's Thursday now. No workouts since Saturday's WOD. Because I needed to recover. Because the body needs time to bounce back. Because there is a time for pushing oneself to the limits and a time for resting. Because one needs to reflect, to mull over, to simmer. Because one needs to be able to pull back, step outside the picture so one can see better. With fresh new eyes. With a renewed sense of determination. A clearer perspective. Because one needs to breathe in all that is good and bad and painful and let out one deep breath to expel all as well. So that one can be reminded of what is important. What is real. What is not. Sift. Re-sift. And grasp only what matters.

I admit. When the pain in both my arms still didn't subside three days after, I was scared. Scared that my body just gave up. And that that was it. Scared that I wasn't made for this. But it did yesterday. My body just needed time.

There is a time for everything. No need to rush. All things come when one is ready.

There is beauty in the breaking, in the undoing, in the mending. All the more in the waiting.

Immerse. Pull back. Sift. Re-sift. Repeat.

When does it stop? It doesn't. That's the beauty of all of it.