I’ve only attempted the Filthy Fifty one other time, and didn’t finish before our 30-minute cutoff. Today, after FIVE hours of skiing (on the blues, of course, Lisa!) I said to That Ripped Guy of Mine(TM): “If it’s a long metcon, I’m not doing it,” … because I’m going to drive the 25 minutes to Roaring Fork CrossFit to NOT do a workout …
Right.
As I drive up, through the window I see a very exhausted man doing burpees. Strike one. Hate. The. Burpees.
Talk to mom on the phone for ten minutes (I’m there early for once!). Exhausted man is doing something else now. But still going. Strike two.
Get out of my car, Thad pushes out the door and lets out a whoop. “FILTHY FIFTY!” he yells when he sees me.
Um, Strike Three. I’m out.
I say as much, and Thad threatens to write DNF on the board next to my name.
I’m obviously not leaving, not because Thad threatens this, but because as CrossFitters it doesn’t really matter what we say before the workout, we’re still going to do it, because we love it, because we can, and because it’s always a challenge.
So I do it. For the uninitiated:
Filthy Fifty, for time:
50 Box jump, 24 inch box (20-inch)
50 Jumping pull-ups
50 Kettlebell swings, 1 pood
Walking Lunge, 50 steps
50 Knees to elbows
50 Push press, 45 pounds (35# women)
50 Back extensions
50 Wall ball shots, 20 pound ball (14#)
50 Burpees (vomit)
50 Double undersMy time: 29:40
That, my friends, is good enough to put me under the 30 minute cap. It’s not as good as stellar Roaring-Forker Jon’s freakin amazing 20-minute flat Filthy Fifty, but it was my goal, and I met it. I have to admit, I wavered on the burpees. They took me SEVEN MINUTES. You’ll recall that 100 took me just 10 minutes. Think how great I would have been if I’d have just conquered the burpees …
… but then, I was mentally tired. My new longer skis and shorter boots resulted in sharper turns which meant I FELL A LOT skiing today (strawberry on right hip to prove it … not an ambi-turner). I skied almost all blues and even went to the very tippy-top of Aspen Highlands, where the view is AMAZING and then I had a mild bout of anxiety where I thought I might fall off the mountain if I couldn’t make the turn properly (That Ripped Guy of Mine(TM) likes to call these ‘Nali Moments’ … if you know my bipolar but highly lovable dog, you know why). So, you see, skiing down the catwalk just after that moment was my mental triumph of the day, and I just couldn’t be bothered with that damn Filthy Fifty.
To ski more tomorrow, then home to Austin!