AMRAP

“Begin as you mean to go on, and go on as you began.”

                                                              —Charles Spurgeon

There is something pleasurable in physical pain if it’s in the service of something greater. I have long since been a runner and enjoyed the discipline of it, the push and pull of seeing/testing how far I could go.

In the right frame of mind and with proper training, I am unwavering. I am not fast and I do not like to race others (I would never win anyway); I just like to beat myself. I approach the entire endeavor as an illumination of what I’m made of. How far can I push it? Take it? Allow it to go? Where is the breaking point? Can it be a little farther next time?

Of course it can. 

Within the last year or so, however, the only running I do is sprints; otherwise, I exclusively bear weight. Of my own body, dumbbells, kettlebells, hoses, ropes, tires, etc. I have found it immensely challenging, so therefore, gratifying. The fatigue and collapse at the end are almost addicting; a focused mind, a shirt full of sweat, the repetition of the body to the exclusion of all else—I love it, crave it, and need it. 

My favorite of these sessions is an AMRAP—As Many Rounds As Possible of doing the same seven or so requirements. I like it because it is grueling, there is little downtime, and you know exactly what to expect—it’s written clearly on a board, so all you have to do is get to doing it: Engage. Obey. Overcome. Repeat. 

An ethos of “Ain’t no way through it but to do it,” if you will.

I don’t think I’ll ever care enough to become some ripped goddess, though; I like beer and wine and delicious food too much. And I’m not going to sacrifice any of those hedonistic pleasures for choking down protein bars and shakes with lab ingredients I cannot pronounce. That is not enough of a trade-off in my view.

It’s also boring and I don’t like boring. I once sat on a plane next to a man with a neck the size of my waist while he ate shredded chicken (or chickens, by the looks of it) from a plastic container the entire flight. I remember thinking to myself: gross and also, nah. That’s not for me.

But I will continue on and see how far I can push it; that is not boring.