Damn Fran! Where is the Love?

I suppose we all have a love-hate relationship with CrossFit that runs (or hill sprints) something like this:
 

18h00 – In my car on the way to CrossFit. Feeling like a champion because I’m out here battling traffic instead of home vegging on the couch. I’ve got Eminem playing via YouTube. Theoretically he’s singing “you’ve got to lose yourself in the music, the moment …” but on my Blackberry’s damaged speaker it sounds suspiciously like “I love you, you love me.”  

(Ever heard about those experiments the CIA supposedly did with LSD and mind control in the 60s? Well in the 90s they finally got it right in a way that didn’t predispose people to jumping off buildings or dancing naked in parks. Ask any parent and they’ll confirm that once you’ve heard the purple dinosaur’s theme song it becomes the default track playing in your head at all times.)

I love CrossFit. CrossFit loves me.

18h05 – Leap out of the car and fling phone of my lap and across car park. Wonder if the speaker will start working now. Wearing my “I’d rather wear Chalk than Lipstick” vest and have my new  skipping rope looped over my shoulder like Wonder Woman’s lasso. Looking super prepared. Feel like a super hero. CrossFit definitely loves me!

18h10 – Walk into the box. A whiff of sweat, and Barney is replaced by bar staff singing the theme song from Cheers. I’m waving and hugging people to a warm voice in my head crooning that this is the place where “everybody knows your name and they’re always glad you came.” Love these CrossFit people!

18h25 – Warmup underway. What the fuck? Burpees before the WOD even starts? Well I’m just not doing them! Ok I’m doing them but under duress.  And I’m walking them. And I’m doing 8 instead of 10. Frikking hate burpees!

18h30 – Strength component is deadlifts. I swear the motes of chalk drifting above my bar are glitter and I’m sure I hear a unicorn neighing sweetly somewhere behind me.  I love deadlifts! Even more than unicorns.

18h50 – And we WOD! Deadlifts; wallballs and skipping. Yes! Going to pump out those reps. And then do it again … faster. Awesome copy line. I’m super creative. Someone should make that a slogan. Or a T-shirt. Or at least a brand name. Put it on a skipping rope. Feel deliriously happy at the thought of my brilliance. Damn I love CrossFit!

19h00 – Someone killed Barney and replaced the Cheers music with Pantera’s “FUCKING HOSTILE” underscored with nails on a blackboard. My brain is screaming at my body to stop and my body is passing the blame for this self-imposed torture back to my brain. While they’re arguing it out I’m frantically wondering if I could saw off a lesser-used body part with my Again Faster skipping rope (damn they stole my idea) thereby, at the very least, earning myself time in the blood bin. Hate CrossFit!

19h01 – Remembered that the CrossFit name for “blood bin” is “box”.  I think I’m dying. I think my lungs are filled with blood. And the bar has gone all Godfather on my ass and is trying to kneecap me. I can’t breathe. Wonder if anyone will notice if I have a heart attack. Maybe they’ll all cheer for me because it means they get to stop while we wait for the ambulance. Fucking hate CrossFit!

19h10 – You’re making me run to cool me down? For real? Barney got to you didn’t he? I hate, hate, hate fucking hate CrossFit and as soon as I get feeling back in my legs I’m leaving and never coming back.

19h20 – On the road home. The sun is lolling peacefully in a purple and pink meadow of delight. My windows are down and the breeze is gently kissing the sweat off my cheeks and shoulders as the happy sounds of John Denver bubble up around me. Life is sweet. *blissful sigh* I love CrossFit.

I hate you so much right now 

Yes, that’s how it usually goes. But some time last year that all changed for me. Suddenly it was all: Hate CrossFit! Fucking hate CrossFit! CrossFit sucks. Hey CrossFit … yo Mamma’s a Zumba instructress.

This thing that made me feel so good was making me feel so bad. Bad about myself. Bringing Paleo into our already tumultuous relationship only made it worse. Suddenly CrossFit was somehow present in my life all the time, looking over my shoulder. The inevitable disapproval sapped the joy out of my weekend pizza binge. Cupcakes became a forbidden fruit. Too many things had “look but don’t touch” stamped on them.

Inside the box things were even worse. A badly executed snatch balance took out my knee. A vicious box with a grudge took out a chunk of my shin. Weak squats and an inability to invert without crying took out the last of my courage and desire to train.

I don’t know exactly what changed or why. But suddenly there was more pressure than enjoyment. I looked around at the other CorssFitters and I started seeing a little too much judgement for each other and a little too little love. Maybe this is just part of the process of any relationship; when blind passion gives way slowly to the reality that the love of your life is far from perfect and actually full of flaws. And that it isn’t all moonshine and barbells.

It’s not you it’s me

And so I decided that CrossFit and I needed a little break. I needed space. I needed to indulge in other passions with other people. For a while I forgot all about CrossFit and spent a some one-on-one time with Olympic Lifting. Oh the fun we’ve had exploring all the things that bring us closer together: shrugs and jumping and squatting. What can I say? I didn’t go looking for it. It just happened; I lost my heart to Olympic Lifting.

Baby come back 

That’s how it’s been for me this year. Then this week I went back to CrossFit. Just for a quick tumble (or skip) you understand. And suddenly there I was, squatting and throwing and hoping I didn’t throw up and everything felt so much better than before. They say the body remembers; well mine didn’t remember it all feeling this good. 

So there I was! Getting hugs from the “old” people and nervous greetings from newbies and playful quips from Marcus about how he’d show me his thruster if I’d show him my snatch. And suddenIy that familiar glow was back and I realised that it had happened: I’d fallen hopelessly in love all over again.

Just for the record, I’m still involved in Olympic Lifting. I’m a free spirit and CrossFit seems to espouse this kind of polygamy. I have a lot of love to give and lots of space for fresh calouses.

I guess it’s true; absence makes the heart grow fonder and the skinned shins better.

I love CrossFit. And CrossFit loves me. Except of course between 6.15 and 7.15 pm weekdays and first thing on a Saturday morning. Then we totally frikking hate each other!