Today, my wife and I completed the OTB Minimalist version of the Filthy Fifty. It’s the CrossFit equivalent of a murder by 10,000 paper cuts. No one movement is meant to be awful, but if you do it fifty times, you’re bound to feel filthy and likely contract a disease of the will.
It’s so fun. You should totes try this one.
Before I jump into the workout. Here’s a bit of an update on how my January went.
- I’m going to hit almost 900 burpees for the first month of the year. Keeping me on track for 10,000 in 2020. #NormalizeBurpees2020 is real, yo.
- My daughters started their 2020 with some pretty painful emotional issues. Which means their dad also suffered some pretty painful emotional issues. If you’re a parent, you know this already. But let me just say there is nothing that can make you more hateful and dangerous than someone crossing your kid. Real talk, at this point – I’ll physically assault you if you make my girls cry.
- The baby has an ear infection and is teething. Scientifically speaking, that’s known as Sleep Deprivation. Dada is still struggling to catch up.
- Our kitchen flooded. Insurance is dragging their feet. So now, we have a torn out kitchen and a very nervous feeling about the future of our home.
January is always a bit of a tough month. The post-holiday blues mixed with the winter struggles mixed with seasonal depression, mixed with the upcoming tax season… and pepper in some ugly weather… it all can be a bit draining.
So yeah, this is the first time I’ve worked out in a week. My workout space has been overtaken, my body is craving nothing but sugar and pizza, and my mind just wants to sleep because a tiny version of myself keeps crying directly in my face until he falls asleep.
I needed to workout. My body craved exercise.
But maybe not this exercise.
My performance in the Filthy Fifty was abysmal.
But I did it. It’s over with. I finished the race and saw no one else at the finish line.
Except Joanie. She was there too. Near tears. Toppled over the on the ground.
Oh, and the baby. He was there. Crying the entire time. Fake cries.
50 Reps For Each of the following movements:
Object Jump Overs
Jump to Touch A Target
Kettlebell Swings, featuring Barnie
DB Push Press, 25 lbs
Good Mornings, 25 lbs.
Thrusters, 25 lbs.
Ah, screw it. Let’s just get to it. Ain’t nothing to it, but to do it.
3… 2… 1… Go!
Object Jump Over
Today, I’m not jumping over anything special. Or high. The last time I did one of these workouts, i jumped over a big flower pot. Today, I laid a pen on the ground and decided that’s about as high as I’m willing to go. So yeah, I boing-boing’d my way through the first movement FAST.
Jump to Touch a Target
For being such an explosive athlete, I’m not in the mood to jump. The baby has now noticed that I’m not paying attention to him. So he’s screaming at me. My answer? Turn up the music. Joanie picked a radio station that sounds like we just walked into a strip club. I don’t know if I should keep jumping or twerk, honestly.
Sidebar: If I could twerk, I would have replaced twerking with burpees and #NormalizeTwerking2020.
Barney is my friend. I’m swinging my KB up and pulling it down. That’s how you do these things fast, kids. I do my first 30 reps unbroken. Take a breath. And then take 15 seconds more of breaths. Then I get 20 reps unbroken. Because I’m a beast.
Aran is still crying. The volume has been risen again.
Nope, skipping lunges. Don’t want to do them yet. I’ll come back in a few movements.
I’ll use Joanie as an excuse, since she’s doing one of the movements in the area I intended on doing lunges. But really, I just don’t wanna lunge. I’m three movements into the Filthy Fifty and I don’t want to ruin it before I start.
Remember when I said all I want to eat is sugar and pizza? Well, my stomach is rather large right now. Like, if it’s normally a 5… then the last 2 weeks has made it a 9. And guess what… it’s normally at a 9. So… yeah. Tuck Ups are really hard.
My rep scheme goes as followed: 15-10-10-7-8- 3-4-3
Two 25 lb dumbbells are heavy, but not until you’re fatigued. Thus far, no movement has been shoulder exhaustive. So, I got juice. The first 35 reps were unbroken. And then the baby screamed and choked on his own screaming. Which made him scream/cry more. I set the weights down gently, looked at him, and bold face told him, “You’re my 5th favorite child right now.”
Ahem, I have 4 children.
So Aran, if you’re reading this. Dada shouldn’t have reacted that way. I know it’s just because you wanted attention and to pull my chest hair out and stick your hand in my mouth.
This is a movement not built for speed. It’s a slow burn. Never intended as a sprint, otherwise you can’t get the real depth and pull in your hammies.
Sidebar: My computer autocorrected “hammies” to “mammies.” And that’s probably more accurate.
My rep breakdown here: 12-12-10-6-10.
Oh fine, I’ll do them!
Forward lunges hurt my knees more than lunges where I’m stepping backwards. So, I’m going to save my knees and perform my lunges the way I wanna do them. No one can pressure me.
Joanie actually does curtsey lunges. It’s adorable. She’s so cute sometimes.
All the time. She’s cute all the time. Even when she has something in her teeth or spills tomato soup down her shirt.
Sorry, anyways, I struggle through the lunges. My body has hit the wall. And we haven’t even gotten to burpees. All aboard the struggle bus. Population one.
Actually, population two and a half. Joanie and Aran are definitely here with me.
I double checked before the workout, but this is meant to be done with 1 dumbbell, not two. Thank you, Tamara Esmerelda Barber, aka Taz. This workout might have actually caused a mental breakdown if it required two DBs in this portion.
Instead, I was able to crank out 15 reps, 10 reps, 15 reps, and finish with 10 more reps. I put the Filthy in those Fifty.
I want to do a Burpee power hour tomorrow. 3 burpees per minute. 1 hour.
Why? Because I’m a really stupid man.
These 50 reps shouldn’t be THAT bad, but they’re THAT bad. I got the first 15 reps unbroken, but now I’m flopping off the ground like a freaking fish outta water. I look like Im bacon on the stove.
Joanie says something to me at rep 41. For all I know, she might have said she was filing for divorce and burning our house down in the morning. I’m too busy wiping the drool off my face and trying to zone out the baby making a noise similar to a wounded Hyena.
No rope today. Instead, I jump in the air and pat my legs twice during each jump.
Nothing fancy. Nothing strong. It’s a hard close to a hard workout. The filthy fifty stole my heart.
But I finished.