Double unders, double unders, wherefore art thou double unders?
They have me whipped. I have slashes on my toes. The new Rx Rope is doing its job: getting me in line with stern punishment of welts and bruises. It was my first time using it, and my first time jumping since la blessure.
Ahhh yes, the injury. It seemed to be doing well. I walked my VivoBarefoots into breaking within their first month, then got the okay from Rose to start running: five minutes every day. If it hurts, I stop. I promised.
So I’ve been running: with the boom, down the street; short 200s during WODs (fast of course so I stay within my time prescriptions); and today, two 400s. And 50 double under attempts. My posterior tibial tendon was keeping quiet thoughout this experiment, until I drove home from Trident. Then that familiar ache returned, so I slapped on some Dimmak herbs, wrapped it up tight, and have entered a state of constant prayer that I haven’t put myself back a month by stupidly jumping with vigor and enthusiasm.
Vigor and enthusiasm are not qualities that promote good double unders. Nay, these require patience, serenity, and an otherwise stoic demeanor. MW said it best: “don’t get excited.” In love and war and double unders, haste is poison.
The rope trapped me today. Boom’s traps her everyday. Her red leash has been around since the first day we met her. One would think she’d despair at her stolen freedom. But she always has a smile on that sweet face of hers.
It’s something I too must learn: to make the best of the chains of necessity, until I am strong enough and smart enough to break them. What are my chains? I’ve wrapped myself in so many, and society (that grown up thrown up world) locks me into more. But I will have freedom, just you wait.
WOD: 50 double unders, 50 abmat situps, 21 deadlifts #125, 7 wall walks, 400 m sprint, 10:41. max ring rows after run = 10.
mcat: acids and bases.