I am in training limbo.
I finished the Let’sGetCrazy Insanity challenge group and went straight into training for the Runner’s World Hat Trick. Now my FiredUp challenge group doesn’t begin until for another 6 days.
So I am left to my own devices.
Of course, those devices are pretty kickass. But that goes without saying.
I’ve been doing the daily CrossFit Mama’s WOD and today I followed that up with a little yoga and foam roller work. The easiest part of the workout was CM’s. So my muscles were a little tight…
Here’s where I slack when I go without programs: stretching. Post-Insanity, I was running and doing CM’s six days a week with nary a stretch, warm-up, or cool down. I was a naughty, naughty FitGal. Now my workout karma is rearing its sweaty little head.
I could not touch the floor during my standing forward bend. I could not sink fully into triangle pose. I was unable to completely raise my arms in chair pose.
I am so ashamed. That’s not post-workout flush; that’s red-faced shame.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Normally, my foam roller is my personal masseuse and an extreme bright spot in my workout world. Today, however, my masseuse morphed into a rather enthusiastic dominatrix, causing my quads to scream in pain. I knew they were sore after the races; I knew I wasn’t fully recovered from all that distance. I did not know they were tighter than Sandra Dee’s ho pants. I actually grunted and did shallow I’m-in-labor breaths for each roll. Tears sprung to my eyes. If my roller and I had established a safe word, I would’ve whimpered it repeatedly. I’ve never been so happy to reach the relaxation segment of my foam roller session. (Although relaxation is difficult to attain when the Babe announces his presence by assaulting my sense of smell. “Teen-ty, Mom.”)