the dreaded front squat

Why are front squats so scary? Seriously. I dread them. Not the most graceful movement for tall people, at least not for me anyway.

Tonight’s workout started with a 1.5-mile warmup run with the dog, half of the running sandwich; even if it is muggy out there and bugs fly in my eyes and nip at my ankles and there’s some wild, sour aroma that permeates a patch of woods down the road.

A running sandwich is a WOD sandwiched between two runs with the dog—one run to warm up, the other to cool down. It’s a blast to run with the dog, and it gets us out to see the world together.

After the warmup, I somehow pulled off the following:

are we going for a run yet, how bout NOW?Front squat 3-3-3-3-3 reps

Started with the 35lbs. bar. Worked my way up to 70lbs. Having not FS’ed in about a year, I’ll take it. Onward.

Here’s a pic of the dog thinking, oh no, not this shit again.

Tonight we only completed the first slice of the sandwich run.

Some days you get it all, some days you get half.

partner wod with the dog

How do you incorporate your dog into your workout? Sprinkle in some running circuits at the beginning and the end of the WOD: a running sandwich. (Not to be confused with a bologna sandwich in the act of running.) It’s a great way to warm up and cool down, and if you time it right, your dog will look like this at the end.Mav conked

Since today was a rest day at CFHQ, I scrolled through the options until I found this lovely WOD below. I intended to modify it with running bookends, but it started to thunderstorm here, so we only got in one round of running as a warm-up:

5 Rounds for Time:
1-mile run
5 deadlifts
5 burpees

Men: 135 lb.
Women: 95 lb.

The dog isn’t flattened, but he had a good romp. Time to open the windows and let the wind blow.

training miles

This seemed like a good WOD to kick off training again. For one, I could do it RX, even if it would be a slog. Also, the running portion could be a partner WOD, and I have the best partner of all! He has floppy ears and yellow eyes and keeps a pretty steady pace even if he does trot on the diagonal. Like a boss, he’s also mastering terms like Stay and Place and Heel and Walk. It’s just him and me in our little slice of out-of-the-box garage WODs.

WOD 7-14-18WOD complete. Our time: 1:08, not that that matters much. It’s the doing that matters. As it turns out, we ran an extra mile at the end, which just makes us a couple of badasses.

It’s been almost a year now since I started cleaning out the garage and refitting it with CF gear. It’s amazing what can collect in a garage: dusty bug zappers, rusty trailer hitches, and castaway cans of leftover paint. Last summer the local dump had a hazardous waste disposal day. The mile-long line of cars on that sunny Saturday morning started lining up long before the gates opened. I drove along the queue until it finally came to an end, turned my nose around and pulled in to claim my spot, thinking, I can wait for as long as it takes. I had nowhere else to go, and there was no way in hell the soured antifreeze and curdled engine oil and other unidentifiable garage-type liquids stacked in the bins in the trunk of my car would be coming back home with me.

It’s amazing how something so simple as hazardous waste disposal day at the local dump can change your perspective. It was a catalyst, the beginning of something new for me. The garage felt cleaner, smelled fresher. Then I hung new curtains, put down a throw carpet and cleared away what I could from the floor. What I couldn’t store in the shed or hang on a nail on the wall, I tried to sell or giveaway. Some people’s junk can indeed be someone else’s treasure. Okay by me.

It was as if I felt like I could not start training again until I cleared out the half-used and forgotten piles of… stuff. It’s all stuff. Just stuff. So much stuff. I do not do well with clutter. My ideal space would be modern, open, white and gray walls and clean lines, minimal wall hangings if at all. White plates, red coffee pot, navy blue sheets. We need so little to live well.

It’s officially 12 weeks until the half-marathon.

Now the dog sleeps and soon so will I.