I’ve joined a fantastic critique group in the hopes of bettering myself and my writing. As it is going to require not only focusing – at a consistent clip – on my latest project (book three), I will also be reviewing the wonderful tales from the three other members each month. I’m very excited about the endeavor and hope to spend more time perfecting the chapter book I’m working on.
Book three started as a picture book idea but seemed to require more words to be fully told. It has grown into a chapter book; yet, I’m weaving in a bit more. A rather important bit, but – I believe – the final bit. I hope to have it together by the spring of next year.
I’m also in about month three of my Crossfit adventure. It is incredibly hard but awesomely rewarding. In a few surprising ways I can do more than I expected, in other ways (especially the grueling workout-of-the-day), I can’t. I have not truly and fully gotten through one WOD. Oh, I “make it” through the hour. I’m huffing & puffing like a freight train and about ready to fall over but I do last the hour. It is more of a Tasmanian devil in a china shop crashing finish. Nothing in the store is left whole.
The Crossfit family is quite supportive. During the actual torture (workout) when you are the last one standing (doing the WOD), those that finished before you (a.k.a. everyone else) gather their finished & proud wagon around you cheering and clapping you to your clumsy, almost-dead finish. I suppose the circling of the wagons theory states no one can possibly quit EARLY when surrounded.
Now, a part of me is deeply touched by their support and encouragement. It is not really something I’ve felt…ever. It tells me that maybe, just maybe, I won’t just drop on that 45th burpee to never get up again because they are lifting me up with their claps and cheers. But that cynical, almost-dead lumbering mass of me is cussing each and every one of them out in my head for being the evil, sadistic group that they are. I would do it out loud if I could just catch. (gasp) my.(gasp) breath. (gasp)
Not being able to breathe, I do try to give them each the evil eye, although the wagons are circled, some how they always seem to be behind me and the evil eye falls flat on the rowing machine. Which leads me to believe maybe they are having a laugh remembering when they were the NEW one inside the circle gasping while throwing curses telepathically. I don’t know.
Still, I feel darned pleased with myself after regaining my composure. I want to go back again. I want to be able to say “I do Crossfit.” I want to be a warrior. I want to hit 50 in the best shape of my life. I feel that Crossfit is the key. A course of exercise I feel capable of doing. That I enjoy and feel immediate benefits from. A community where a strong body is encouraged and celebrated for both men and women. A community that works as a whole encouraging each other instead of breaking others down. So, I am glad I kept the curses in my head. I am setting my sights on becoming one of the circling wagons. I want to be there cheering and clapping other folks starting their Crossfit journey!
As exciting as that decision is, it’ll take some time. My wagon is still being built. I need wheels, sideboards, some horses, and something to hitch them to, before I can become a circling wagon…but check back with me in a year. It may take me that long to reach the outside, if I survive!