I feel like my second grade self in the moments leading up to my First Penance. I can remember it pretty clearly. During the school day we’d go across the parking lot to church and each take a turn going inside the confessional so we would be familiar with our surrounding–the darkness; the quiet; the screen with the dreaded sliding door that the priest would open. When the day of our Sacrament came along, each of our parents walked us to the confessional to wait in line until one freed up. If you were “lucky,” you’d actually get the little dark confessional, the unlucky were headed for the even more dreaded face-to-face confession room. I had such anxiety over confessing my sins to our Parish priest that I can remember turning to my mom and telling her that I had to pee…no mom, like right now…I need to pee! However, on that day I realized a life lesson—like most things we have been keeping inside, once you start to talk about them openly you realize that the anticipation was much worse than the actual act of addressing the matter.
I’ve had the beginnings of this post in my head for a while…writing and rewriting it during the many solo miles I have spent while training for my marathons. And really it shouldn’t come as a surprise to most people, I have even made a mention or two of it on the blog in passing—you see, I am a Crossfit drop-out…and in fact, I. Am. A. Runner! Gasp! The shock….the horror!! The shame!! Yes, there is in fact “shame” where there shouldn’t be. The fact that I’m almost apologetic of the fact that I am a runner at heart and truly enjoy the many grueling hours of just being out on the road with just me and my own thoughts (or on some days the lack thereof is really kind of sad. The question of why I feel this way is actually wrapped up in my perceptions of what I “should” be doing and social media’s focus on, even what the title of our blog notes–being fit.
Back three-plus years ago, while running with Pam, she told me of an introductory class she took for Crossfit and encouraged me to consider looking into it for strength training once I had started my comeback after having Mr. Man. When I saw a Groupon for a month of Crossfit at a local box right around the birth of Mr. Man in early 2012, I decided to give it a shot and challenge myself to do something that I wasn’t necessarily comfortable with—lifting heavy. During my first On Ramp session the director of the box gave a talk about what fitness was and essentially said that just because you are a runner doesn’t mean you were fit and in all likelihood were not a healthy individual because anyone who did crossfit could run a half marathon with zero training because of how fit they were. Sure they were fit and could likely run a half without training for it specifically, but I took personal offense to that statement. In hindsight I took offense because of the tone in which it was delivered—belittling almost.
All that aside, I did enjoy the new challenge of Crossfit and the accompanying results I was seeing in my strength. Yet, I also felt that I was not connecting with the coaches at the box. When my Groupon ran out I moved locations to a new box that was just opening closer to my house, thanks to the recommendation of my cousin who knew the coach personally. There, I decided to be upfront about the fact that I was a runner and I was using Crossfit as a strength program and not as my sport. My new coach was supportive of that and he found ways to push me to want to do better and press the limits of what I thought was possible while still allowing me to be a runner. He motivated me the way no one had been able to motivate me–while still supporting who I really was. Thanks to the company of my cousin and a close friend who I also WODed with, as well as the motivation from my coach, I was going twice a week and saw great changes I my abilities and my athleticism. The strength and skills portion of the workout were my favorite part of my time there. I secretly dreaded the WODs. If I’m truthful, I found myself anxious about them. I think that was in part because I was starting to see my competitive streak sneak up. Due to a combination of my work schedule and training for my back to back marathons, I found I had greater (self-imposed) limitations than the rest of the people in my group. They were stronger, faster, and fitter than me. I felt like I was wimping out on a Friday morning WOD when I significantly scaled a workout because I knew that I’d be in pretty serious pain if I used a more challenging weight and then went on a 20-mi long run the next day. As my marathon training went on I increasingly cut back my trips to the box because I was afraid of injury (it certainly didn’t help that I whacked a kettle bell into my shin during a morning WOD).
When my coach left our box due to military commitment, I began to lose the fire that kept me going. Not only had I lost my coach, but I also wasn’t seeing my cousin and close friend who I WODed with during the week. I had a suffocating feeling when I was coached by some of the others because they didn’t know my personal goals lied in a marathon PR, not in a Karen PR. I’d get eye rolls for using a Bella bar and not the 45-# bar; I’d be called out because I wasn’t getting my wall ball up to competition standard height. I felt like crying at times, but I never said anything about it and just kept plugging along. The WODs continued to give me anxiety, and the initial ember that was smoldering when I changed boxes began to fade. It was no longer fun. I felt like a failure leaving because it felt like Crossfit was something I should be doing. Everyone else was doing it and enjoying it so it must be me…it must be because I was unwilling to give up my mileage and attend open gym on Saturdays or commit to more than two days a week for workouts.
This post isn’t intended to bash Crossfit. I will take full responsibility for the fact that all of this was my own doing inside my head. Instead of being upfront with the new coaches and telling them what MY goals were and if they didn’t like it to lump it, I suffered in silence and began to feel shame for loving running. I will fully credit my amazing coach (thanks Todd!!) and Crossfit for getting me through my back to back marathon session. Crossfit did amazing things for me. If I’m honest, even though I felt badly about being a runner, it made me feel strong. It gave me confidence. It made me feel like I was capable of almost anything. It allowed me to see that the only thing standing between me and any goal was me. It allowed me to see that discomfort was OK to feel during a workout and that if I pushed passed it, pride lay at the end.
The fact of the matter is, I MISS going to Crossfit. I miss feeling strong. I miss the feeling of accomplishment when I reached a new PR in my deadlift. I miss the feeling of confidence I had when I put on an outfit that showed I actually had decent back muscles thanks to all of the pull-ups I was doing. I miss the calloused hands. I miss the lingo—as silly as it sounds. Now that I’m in North Carolina, I’d like to get back to Crossfit with the sole intent of using it as my strength training. When I do go back, once finances permit, I’d like to focus more on the joy and pride I felt during my heavy lifting portion of class instead of the fear and competitiveness I felt before a metcon. I have even found a box, based on early conversations with one of the Owners, that I think might be a great fit for me only 5-miles away from my house.
DIY plyoboxes for $45 total–even made one for the kiddos
In the meantime, I have been at-home-WODing with The Hubs. I made plyo-boxes for us to use. While I’m not lifting heavy like I would at a box, I am rebuilding the strength and muscle tone I once had simply with $45.00 worth of plywood and my own body weight. There are more than enough simple WODs that can be found online or on Pinterest (check out my pinboard here for some) that you can use without the expense, or in some cases maybe the fear of actually showing up at a box and trying it on your own. Lil One and Mr. Man often join in—using their own mini-plyo-box. My confidence has been coming back and I even look forward to doing 100 modified push-ups after my mid-week runs.
What it boils down to for me is this—I need to look in the mirror each day and like what I see. While I said at the start of this post that I am a runner—and while there is nothing wrong with calling myself a runner, what I really see is an athlete. And I like that. I think in the past I limited myself by assigning a label. I am a runner. I am a swimmer. I am a cyclist. I am a Crossfitter. If we begin to put aside the labels and all call ourselves athletes, instead of putting each other at odds or belittling the physical efforts we are all making, we strengthen our collective commitment to health, wellness, and fitness.
If we begin to put aside the labels and all call ourselves athletes, instead of putting each other at odds or belittling the physical efforts we are all making, we strengthen our collective commitment to health, wellness, and fitness.
We need to change the mindset that certain sports are only made for those who fit the stereotype—don’t be afraid to try something new. Don’t be afraid to say eff convention and set your own goals within a given sport. Don’t let others be the determining factor in your ability or inability to choose an activity and participate in it. By doing this you only hurt yourself—I know I did. I had gained so much strength during my time at Crossfit and in a blink it was gone. It was gone because I allowed myself to become disgruntled and alienated (yes, we alienate ourselves) instead of standing tall and reaffirming what my own personal goal was at the time. It’s a lesson learned. We are only ever limited by what we believe is a barrier—it’s our choice to decide how to deal with that barrier. Do we stop and turn back? Do we burst through it? Or maybe, like myself, we stop, look up after pondering and scale it instead. How will you approach your barrier?
