Godfather + jump rope = one pissed off Tara

I remember as a kid jumping rope being one of my favorite activities as a child. It was something I could do with other kids as a parallel player. It was something I was pretty darn good at. You know that Cinderella/made a mistake/kissed a snake rhyme where you had to count how many doctors it would take to fix her? I could easily have employed every doctor in the state of Washington, Oregon and probably part of California with my need for 500+ doctors to come and save Cinderella. I could jump rope to my heart’s content and never miss a beat.

Today it brought me to tears.

Here’s a little background info: I’m having my normal Tuesday session with Godfather. I’m quite the eager beaver lately because I am seeing some serious muscle definition and endurance improvement so my 6a session turned into a “holy crap, I can’t sleep past 330a anymore so I’m going to get to the gym by 5a and swim and run before Godfather” session. Those things out of the way and I’m ready to hit it hard. So is he. He’s not messing around anymore. I mean, he wasn’t messing around before it’s just that the ante has been upped and he expects me to step up to the plate as well. Weights are getting heavier, sets are getting longer, movements are getting more complicated. So off we go and part of the workout includes something I used to love as a child: Jump rope.

One minute, non stop. I stop = I start over.

Sounds easy enough if I could transport myself to 1979 when I was 10. Otherwise you can bet it pretty much sucked ass. The first time wasn’t so bad. I managed to get an entire 60 seconds of whipping that rope around after only a few unsuccessful attempts. By the time I had to do it a second time my legs hurt from leg presses, my arms hurt from tricep curls, my core hurt from some crazy ass oblique, mountain climber, crunch combo on the TRX straps and I was out of breath from jumping lunges. The one minute I stop = I start over turned into a twenty minute “I’m never going to fucking get this over with” jump rope extravaganza.

I felt every emotion known to mankind.

And I took them out on Godfather.

He was relentless and it pissed me off. Every time I stumbled with that damn rope I’d hear the click of his stopwatch and pretty much just wanted to rip it out of his hands and smash that thing to pieces. Twenty freaking minutes I jumped that damn rope. At one point I threw it down and stomped off like a child. Except this was a 40 year old child so I said “FUCK” really loud, stomped off and then proceeded to cry in the corner for exactly 10 seconds before I came back and tried again; only to hear the click of that stopwatch after I tripped up a few seconds later (GAH for the love of all that is pure!!!). I laughed hysterically at some point because my shirt was soaked, snot was running out of my nose and all I could think about was how much I’d rather be doing the oblique/mountain climber/crunch series on the TRX (trust me you don’t want to do them).

I asked nicely to move on.

He said no.

I begged.

He said no.

I swore like a sailor.

He said no.

It was the first time I actually thought about just walking out mid session and going home. That’s how pissed off I was. All I had to do was jump that crappy piece of plastic between two handles for 60 seconds. Sixty Lousy  Stinking Seconds.

S I X T Y S E C O N D S.

I’m not used to having someone tell me no I can’t move on. I’m not used to having someone stay cool calm and collected as I rant and rave and stomp my feet like a four year old. I’m not used to someone making me look them in the eyes as they say “I never let my athletes quit” followed by a “Start over. Clear your mind. All you need to do is breath and move”

I finally did that second round of sixty seconds. It took 1200 seconds for me to get through it without tripping up but in the end I did it. Just when I thought that was the end of our session, he said “come on we’ve got arm pulls, curl ups and another round of oblique swings/mountain climbers/crunches to do in seven minutes…oh and another round of jump rope”

The third round I finally gave in after a few attempts of the jump rope. I just couldn’t physically do it. I knew it and didn’t want to walk away feeling like the previous 80 minutes was worth nothing because I couldn’t go another sixty seconds. I felt bad for swearing at him. I felt bad for causing such a ruckus over something so simple. I felt bad for thinking about leaving mid session. I felt bad because even though I did survive another session, I essentially quit without finishing and it weighs heavily on my mind today. I know he would say I didn’t quit. He would say that I worked hard and kept at it until the end. I know that he’s proud of all the work I did today and doesn’t think any less of me for not doing the third round but I feel like I let him down.

I let myself down.

When you come from a lifetime of forcing perfection on yourself in order to feel worthy of being cared for, it’s hard to accept that there are going to be times when we need to just let something go unfinished. It stopped being about not being able to jump the rope for sixty seconds. It became about trusting that no matter what I do in my training sessions and how I feel like I failed, Godfather never sees me as a failure and is always going to let me come back**. It became about knowing I’m the only one obsessing over not finishing the sixty seconds and trusting that he’s probably thinking about adding more weights to my leg presses because I’m getting stronger. It became about leaving the gym and thanking him for our time together instead of feeling like I can’t face him because he thinks less of me for not finishing because it’s not him that’s disappointed in me. It’s me that disappointed in me. I need to learn that not everything needs to be done to perfection. I’m the only one that thinks having someone care about me needs to be earned by not making any mistakes. I need to remember that Cinderella doesn’t need 500 doctors to fix her…

She just needs one Godfather to show her how to fix herself.

**As I was writing this very line, Godfather called to tell me how proud he was of me. I can’t even make that up people. I put the period on the end of that line and my phone rang. Amazing!