Saturday, October 30, 2010

Sunday 31 October 2010

This is by Elizabeth Darsh, On her facebook page: CrossFit Lisbeth Do we complain too much as a community? Do we posture too much about the WOD, about our pain, about our efforts? Do we give our exercise far more importance than it deserves?

“Holy hell, 150 wall-ball?

“What? Run a mile, do all that stuff, and run another mile?”

“Another hero WOD? You guys are killing me!”

The reason I ask is that some people don’t posture at all in this life. You have them in your affiliate. They show up, they do work, they listen and smile, and they go home. Few words about the workout, no fanfare, just work. They’re friendly, but they’re grounded. When a new Hero WOD shows up, they do it proudly — and silently remember that someone out there gave their life for their country — and all we’re asked to do is one workout to honor that sacrifice. Kind of silly to complain about that, huh?

I have an ex-husband like that. He recently pulled a man from a burning carliterally saved his life – and then went to work and told no one about it. The story would have remained a secret (except to one bystander and a cop) if his co-worker hadn’t noticed him cleaning up in the bathroom and asked what happened. Then the story emerged including the stuck window, the smashing of glass, the rescuing of a very large man, and the flames. Amazing.

Could you do that? Would you do that? That’s real life right there. And this is the gym. We get so used to our “sacrifice” in the gym that we begin to mistake it for real life.

The gym is not real life. It’s your prep for real life. Remember that. One place is the practice field and the other is the real game. What we learn from CrossFit should make us more ready to take on the challenges of life, to be strong, to break a window with a laptop and pull a man to safety.

As much as we love CrossFit, it’s imperative to remember that there is life, and there is CrossFit — there is even this CrossFit life. But if you think you’re living The Life CrossFit, then you need to do 20 burpees and get the blood flowing to your brain again.

So, show up. Quityerbitching. Do the WOD. Revel in the effort and the pain and the joy and the accomplishment and the community. And then go back through the doors to real life. And pull that man from the burning car because maybe, just maybe, CrossFit gave you the strength and the fortitude to save someone other than yourself.

I’ll see you at the gym.