totally rational (not)

Have you ever had one of those brain farts when you simply CANNOT remember how to spell a word, and the more you think about it, the more bizarre and outlandish every possibility starts to sound? Eventually, you’re convinced that none of them are right and the word probably never existed in the first place. This is the point when you start to look for a synonym or turn to the person sitting nearest you and ask, “Hey, how do you spell ‘bottle’? It can’t possibly be B-A-W-T-E-L, can it?”

My brain has this problem pretty much on a daily basis. Usually, it doesn’t bother me because, although spelling is something I do a lot of, I’m pretty much 264% sure I’m never going to win any spelling bees.

But last night, my brain started playing the same old tricks on me while I was at the box after work. Which I was not okay with. I’m okay with the idea of being bad at athletic stuff too—If you’re as uncoordinated as I am, you pretty much have to count new sports as a success if you don’t drop things and fall over your first time. But I’m so not okay with getting WORSE at this stuff. Especially not when everyone else is watching.

So the WOD last night involved doing five rounds of three different lifts. For each round, you do three reps and then increase the weight. Usually, I have no idea what to do with these because my brain holds on to numbers just about as well as my checking account holds money (aka, NOT WELL). But I know for sure that 95 pounds is the most I can possibly clean. But I CAN clean it, because I’ve done it before

Long story short: failure. But that wasn’t even the worst of it! I did my three reps with 85 pounds. Whatever. That’s easy. But Gary had given us a talk about technique and not cheating and all that jazz before the WOD. And I thought, “You know, that was sloppy. Let me just practice a couple more before I make this really heavy.”

And that’s when my brain had a technique panic. Shutdown. You’re done.

Every time I got the bar to about 18 inches above the ground, the voices in my head told me it was waaaaaayyy too heavy for me to lift. There was no possibility I could haul that 85-pound bar all the way to shoulder height. My voices chose to ignore the totally rational argument that I had just done it THREE TIMES. I know, right?

Ten minutes later: “Are you hurt?” Poor Gary spent a while trying to figure out what my problem was. But it was no use. It was one of those moments when I just couldn’t remember how to spell that everyday word. The more I tried, the more I was convinced that the word didn’t exist anymore, that I simply COULDN’T clean 85 pounds.

Totally rational. That’s me.

I went back and cleaned 95 after the WOD this morning.

So, life lessons in this? Don’t sit next to someone at work who’s going to judge you for asking them stupid spelling questions. It happens.

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