Balls of Steel. Hearts of Platinum.

Chalk dust makes you beautiful

What’s the most beautiful moment you can imagine at a gym? That second when the WOD heats up and the boys all decide their abs needs a little fresh air? Or maybe something with a touch of fantasy; say an hour alone in the box with a group of CossFit chicks, a comet hurtling towards Earth, and the realisation that none of them want to die virgins?

The most exquisitely beautiful moment I’ve experienced did indeed involve a group of incredible CrossFit girls … and a room full of shirtless men. It happened unexpectedly at CrossFit Platinum, when Beatrix was doing her final WOD of the 2012 games: in between thrusters and pull-ups Susan, quietly, calmly and caringly, rubbed chalk dust on her own hands, took Beatrix’s hands and then smoothed the dust over her palms. It was the smallest, simplest action; and at the same time; the most powerful and outstanding example I’ve ever seen of what makes CrossFit a sport of the heart, not just the body.

 As the two of them stood there, suspended in a haze of chalk dust while around me athletes grunted and judges shouted encouragement and competitors cheered; I realised that there are my people, every one, and I’m so incredibly proud that they are.

 Whoo hoo; 3 whole reps! 

Pfft; I didn’t need chalk during my final WOD. That’s because, unlike Wonder Woman who got 70 something reps, I got 3. I can’t do pull-ups so I was basically out after my 3 thrusters. But if cheering could have carried me up, chest to bar, I’d have done 3000. My little judge, Candice, got me to try every possible starting position and hand hold, hoping to help me get at least one rep out. “Try it with your hands wide. Ok try it with your hands closer together. Now try it with your palms away from you. Maybe try muscle it up. Right, no, then try swinging.” Candice negotiated techniques, Lisa tried some last minute kipping coaching, and Rheana (who does pull-ups as if her arms are piston driven) just screamed. I didn’t get any pull-ups, but I didn’t give up on the WOD until time ran out … and those amazing ladies didn’t give up on me.

It’s a beautiful thing; the fact that the people I train with believe I’m capable of so much. No, they’re not delusional. They know I’m not like Cindy and Christa; not only can those two move furniture and carry heavy stuff without the help of their boyfriends; they can do it with their boyfriends napping on top. Rather, it’s a case of knowing that we can achieve more together than we can on our own and that the weights or reps we’ll manage alone at Virgin will never come close to the amount we’ll do with our “family” cheering us on.

Even when the score sheet provides absolute, indisputable proof that I am – to use Emily’s word – sucky, they treat me as if I’m at the top of the leadeboard. I’m not; just in case you’re wondering. I am in fact 74^th; which would be awesome if not for the fact that there are only 75 women on it. Yet after every single one of my WODs Thabiet’s come to pat me on the shoulder and say congratulations. After every one! Not because I’ve broken any records, but I guess because he knows I’ve broken my own threshold for pain … and if I’m honest, for humiliation.

Run Forest, run

 It’s strange how there in our gym, pumping iron, pounding the pavement and throwing our bodies over ropes and under bars, surrounded by screams and grunting and occasionally swearing; in these many small gestures, you can feel the love. No one’s ever training that hard that they can’t take a moment to push you. Unless you’ve been there it probably doesn’t make sense, but when it feels as if someone’s deboned your legs while you’re doing yet another 400m run (no, Julian has no sense of restraint when it comes to cardio) and Neil tells you to stop walking and start running, your legs somehow start working again.  When you know you can’t do more than a ladies’ pushup and Craig Ninja puts 5KG on your pack and tells you to go for 10 strict ones; incredibly you’re suddenly She Hulk.

Even more incredible is the fact that it’s not a case of the brilliant athletes trying to get us special-needs ones to do better. More often than not it’s just a case of two regular people making one incredible team. Like Win and I. Gaelen and I have an unfulfilled plan to make ourselves T-shirts; hers will say Win and mine will say Ner. That way, when we’re together, we’ll each be a WinNer. It’s not as funny as you would think. (Or maybe it’s not as funny as I would think.) But that’s exactly what it’s like when we train together. Our lifts get heavier. Our cardio gets faster. Our endurance goes a few levels higher. When I wanted to drop out of the Open because I’d never done a snatch until the day it was announced as the WOD, Gaelen kicked my ass and made sure I dragged it over to the gym. On days I feel like browsing the sweet isles at Woolies instead of doing push-ups, I go to CrossFit because my partner in pain is there.

Sister act

It’s a sadness for me that out there in the rest of the world, “sisterhood” is just a gender-correct tri-syllable. The older I get the more I wonder what happened to the days when women would hold the ladder of success while a sister climbed up instead of snapping pics, hoping she’ll be going commando so they can post it to YouTube. Here at CrossFit though sisterhood is alive and well and the sisters are kicking ass!

Our fellow CrossFitters are more than a bunch of people with scraped shins, bruised hips and a penchant for chalk; they’re our family. We find more than fitness at our boxes; we find a sense of belonging. Our gym is more than kettlebells and skipping ropes. Our gym is Lisa sipping coffee and hanging out when she’s not training us and reminding us that being a mom doesn’t mean giving up your sexiness and being a weight-lifting power athlete doesn’t mean giving up your femininity. It’s Neil’s daughter catching rainwater from the gutter on her tongue. It’s Craig Ninja keeping his pepper spray sheathed and really shining as a coach. And of course it’s Julian; who laughs like a child, with absolute, bubbly abandon and who looks as proud of his peppermint tart as of his Open scores and who saturates CrossFit Platinum from the mats to the rafters with warmth and energy.

It’s all these things that make me feel that I’m not simply going to a gym; they make me feel like I’m coming home.

Do I really know you?

On Saturday I was telling Caro that I keep marrying off people who aren’t even involved and that maybe I don’t know my fellow CrossFitters at all. But now that I think about it I realise that’s not quite true. I don’t know where they live or what books they read or – apparently – whether they’re single or not, but I know that Bronwyn is as generous with her sweetness and laughter as her banana bread; she’s the first girl at CrossFit platinum who came to introduce herself to me and who asked if we could warm up together.

I know Caro knows how to transplant blackberries and that she doesn’t think it’s a waste of time to come in (when she could be home on her couch) just to cheer on 3 people WODing. I know Craig Blue-Shoes isn’t related to Thor and that he speaks very quietly for such a big guy. I know Paul can tell people he’s eating crocodile in a way that makes them believe him, but this “rough ‘n tough” block of muscle is soft enough take time out of his WOD to train with a 14 year old boy.

I know Marion made me feel as famous as JK Rowling because she knew my name and told me she liked my writing the first time we met; without her and Farhana and everyone else’s enthusiasm I’d never have had the confidence to carry on with these blogs.

Been there, got the T shirt

 It’s all these people who I’ve gotten to know and loads of people who I haven’t who keep me coming back again, week after week. It’s all of them who make me proud to wear a vest with our name on, because I’m proud to tell the world that I’m part of this phenomenal family.

Whew; I’ve been wanting to write a blog just for all of you for a while, but I didn’t think I knew you well enough. I guess I was wrong; I know the most important thing about all of you: a lot of people have hearts of gold, but only we have hearts of Platinum.