Aloha! How long it’s been!
First off, I am NOT in Hawaii, much to my dismay. I am somewhere with a famous beach, though, and it’s also got its own TV show. Any guesses? I’ll let you sit on that.
Secondly, a thousand apologies to each of you lovely readers out there for suddenly going AWOL. Things have picked up as the semester is drawing to a close, and I’ve been (and still am) scrambling to finish essays, assignments, portfolios, etc. At times, I feel like I’m losing large quantities of muscle mass just from spending 6 hours writing a ‘Pataphysics paper. Ugh. I barely even have time to buy toilet paper, and I have been putting that off for weeks. Good thing I have housemates who need to relieve their bowels, too.
Have you figured it out yet?!
Yup! You got it, folks! I’m in Laguna Hills this weekend getting my Level 1 certification. The much anticipated weekend is finally here!
Not only am I in fancy pansy LAGUNA, CALIFORNIA – a place I never thought I’d ever set foot in – I’m living in a huge mansion, all by myself. No big deal. The best part is not the fully equipped kitchen stocked with expensive, exotic ingredients (Guys. They have a glass box for 15 different types of teas). Nor is it the glowing, cozy fireplace (which, by the way, singed off some of my eyelashes as I lit it. Does insurance cover burnt hair?). NOR is it the MASSIVE trampoline in their backyard (I’m taking that thing to town tomorrow). It’s honestly their huge *ss shower with the jet nozzle. Oh man. Every shower I’ve ever taken has not left me as clean as this one. 10 minutes in this baby and it’s like all sins have been forgiven. Goldilocks ain’t got nothin’ on me.
Anyway. On to more pressing matters (not that you didn’t enjoy my spiel about the life-changing shower experience). Day 1 of the Crossfit course has come to a close and what a day it has been. We registered at 8.30am sharp – what I initially thought was going to be about 20 people turned out to be close to SIXTY. It was an incredibly rich and lengthy 9 hours in the box with total strangers. We even did a WOD at the end together. But you know what? That’s exactly what this sport is about: Community. I barked at this woman for the entire 7 minutes of her WOD, start to finish. At the end of it, she thanked me. Burly dudes and ladies (including the one I yelled at!) were cheering me on as I did my 3 rounds of thrusters and burpees, reminding me to drive my elbows up when I was losing form, or to keep going when I was losing hope. When I was done, I hi-5’ed my supporters, caught my breath, and proceeded to cheer on my fellow WODers. The energy in the room was off the freakin’ charts – I couldn’t even hear the music over the hoarse “COME ON! YOU GOT THIS!“s and “STAY STRONG. DIG DEEP!“s coming from everyone.
That’s what makes Crossfit unique. The camaraderie and sportsmanship is unparalleled to any other sport I’ve ever participated in (and trust me, honey, that list is long). You don’t look at the guy next to you deadlifting thrice his body weight in envy; you look at him in admiration and respect for all the work he has done to get there, in hopes that someday you will, too. Contrastingly, you don’t look at the skinny chick across the gym doing 25lb cleans and smirk in condescension; you walk over and tell her she made a great decision choosing fitness over appearance. It doesn’t matter if you just completed Fran in under 2 minutes – you are never finished until the last person calls ‘time’. There is no room for egos in the box – every athlete, whether you’re a three-time Games champion or a 75 year old grandma, should act with humility because at the end of the day, we all have strengths and weaknesses. We all need help with something, even superwoman Ms. Annie Thorisdottir or the incredible Rich Froning.
We are all there for the same purpose: we all strive towards improving our fitness.
So while you may have just completed a 10,000m row or done 30 unbroken reps of 300lb push jerks, you should still have the energy and muscular ability to smile. And if you can still smile after a WOD, then that means you’re totally capable of dragging yourself over to the athlete 5 feet away from you and tell him that he/she’s kicking some serious *ass.