Burpees = Death

It isn't all that often I sit down and whine. Well...not too often...I mean, I don't do it every day. Seriously. I don't. Really. OK...maybe sort of often.

Damn. I hate this self-awareness crap. I prefer to be blissfully unaware of my faults. Same way I prefer to be blissfully unaware of the number of calories in a Snickers bar; but, I digress.

My original point was to whine...let's get on with it...

Those of you who know me are aware of the fact that I have really, really bad knees. Knees that make it abundantly clear the level of disdain they possess for the weight and girth of the ass they are required to support each time I heft myself from a seated position. Knees that have been through one surgery each and possess scars and screws and, if that wasn't quite enough thankyouverymuch, are arthritic. Oh yeah - and for the record - I am only 35. And have arthritis. 35. Arthritis.

Yeah. It sucks.

Anyway, last night I finally made it back to tae-kwon-do and Crossfit after two weeks away. I would think Matt, our fabulous instructor, would take it easy on me and ease me back into things. I would think wrong. Frankly? I think he decided torture was an appropriate way to ensure I think twice the next time I decide to go out of town for work. Or get sick. You know what? I am most certainly thinking. I am sure my new boss will understand when I tell her I can't fly down to San Jose because Matt will take it out of my hide in sweat as soon as I return. Right? Stephanie?

Anyway, here is the Crossfit workout from last night. Don't let the simplicity fool you. It sucks ass. HARD.

21 - 15 - 9
(I do believe the numbers are arbitrary and selected just for maximum frustration. Have you ever tried to stop counting at an odd number when your brain isn't working due to lack of oxygen? Harder. Than. You. Think.)

So - you do 21 chin-ups, 21 burpees (here is a link for those of you who are wondering what in Hades a burpee is) and 21 of these things where you throw a medicine ball at the wall with one arm from several feet away. It has a name, but I'll be damned if I can remember it. If you survive doing that you start over and do it again 15 times and then 9 times.

What does all this have to do with the whining and the knees? Well, it is the reason I was both unable to walk and unable to sleep last night. My knees were ON FIRE thanks to those burpees. Eric offered to buy me a motorized scooter. I was thisclose to finding an infomercial for the Little Rascal and taking him up on it. Instead I took a poorly timed sleeping pill and went to bed. I am so groggy today that I could feed coffee directly into a vein and I would still be half asleep.

On a more serious note -- I am having a hell of a time staying motivated to work out. All I seem to get is pain. I have more muscle than I have had in years, but my weight isn't going down and that was the whole point because I have to get weight off to get my knees to quit with all the bitching. I am not wearing smaller clothes. I still don't look good naked. Seriously? Bulimia is starting to look appealing.