Tuesday, March 27, 2012, Check-In

[muck_a_luck]

Hey, EED community!

Here is your daily check-in post! Hope everyone is having a great day!

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Ad Astra Per Aspera

[smackshack]

So it turns out (warning for gross/awesome x-rays) that crushing a finger between two kettlebells is nature's way of telling you not to stick your fingers between two kettlebells.

Let me back up a bit.

At the beginning of the year I decided that I needed to supplement my crossfit kettlebell classes with some more traditional weight training, which I've been doing in the little fitness room at my job, focusing in particular on pull-ups, core strength, and overhead presses. And I made progress, gradually increasing the size of bells I was willing to attempt in class. (And getting to a point where I could do 6-5-4-3-2-1 unassisted chin-ups, an accomplishment of which I'm pretty proud.)

I also went through a period of mild depression in which I almost convinced myself to quit the KB classes. I won't dwell too much on it here, except to say that I think I had a small breakthrough in terms of understanding an unpleasant personality trait I'll call my inner bully. But I didn't quit and decided instead that even more than working on my physical fitness I needed to work on cultivating a more positive attitude, and the challenging/frustrating context of crossfit seems as good a place for that as any.

It's in this context that I approached last Thursday's KB workout, a ladder of thrusters (using 2 x 20kg bells) and pullups. I hate thrusters, but I psyched myself up: "Just go for it." And about halfway through, when I started to really struggle, my attention lapsed and I failed to control my kettlebells as I lowered them to the ground.

Crunch. (There was cussing. Lots and lots of cussing.)

That night I took a bunch of ibuprofen, and Friday morning I went to the doctor, where I discovered that the middle phalanx of my right index finger was shattered in five pieces or so. Fixing it might need surgery: I have another appointment where we'll talk about that later this week.

But here's the funny thing: my mood is strangely upbeat. It might be partly hysteria, I admit; but I'm determined not to waste the progress I've made over the last year. If I can't lift, I will run. If I can't run, I will walk. If I can't walk, I will crawl. That's how I feel at the moment. I fear surgery and I fear the consequences of letting nature take its course; I fear the possible loss of mobility and dexterity in my dominant hand; I fear the loss of grip strength and the other forms of strength that depend on grip; I fear the loss of time and progress towards my goals; I fear the depression and discouragement looms on my emotional horizon.

But why do I fear these things? Because I love the person I've slowly become over the last fifteen months, and I don't want to lose him. I don't think I've ever felt that as clearly as I do right now. I feel a bit crazy writing that down. It feels like hubris and arrogance.

But maybe that's what I need. Well, except when I'm setting down the kettlebells.