A revered and perpetually bang-on blogger wrote in a semi recent post that I don't make exercise sound very appealing. I used words like "puke" and "hate" a lot, she noted, and it didn't make it very appealing for t the time I retorted silently: "That's what it takes. No pain no gain."
At the time I was going to the gym and labouring through torturous rounds of chest presses, cringing with jelly legs at the prospect of one more calf raise. It got so bad that pop songs blasting over the loudspeakers mesmerized me; they were the same, all the time.
"Did he just say you can call me caesar because I make a caeser?" asked Corey,"Who makes up this asinine drivel?"
Personally, I was occupied with the bad romance of Lady Gaga, and wondering why the bicep-y Nickelback Dude with the yellow mesh shirt refused to ever say hi to us. There is a plethora of things to concentrate on in a community gym, and exercising wasn't one of them for me. Admittedly, I liked what the gym was doing for my body. I had an ass again. I had a mini muscle trying to peek out of my arm. My cellulite seemed to be lessening substancially and I think we've all heard that cellulite can't be exercised away, but I don't know. It can definitely be lessened.
But reduced cellulite and an improved ass weren't enough to keep my misery at bay. Corey was motivated as all hell, and would have kept going cheerfully, but eventually I would have murdered him for his perpetual willingness to ignore the travesties of the gym.
We've happily been going to Crossfit for about a month and a half now -- including the intro technique classes -- and I can happily admit that I was totally, ridiculously wrong. Exercise doesn't have to suck. It doesn't have to be a grind. You don't need to dread it.
I thrive on adrenaline and competition and I look forward to the short, intense Crossfit workouts. I exert the hell out of myself while I'm doing them, and it hurts for sure, but in a kind of awesome way. It's less tired repitition and more holy crap I can't believe my body just did that. I can see enormous changes in my body, but better yet, I can feel my strength growing. I am willingly forgoing cheese and bread just so I can heave myself over bars with a little more ease.
Crossfit is right up my alley, but I'm beginning to think there's something for everyone. Even if you can't afford Crossfit, or don't think it's right for you: there's probably an exercise type that motivates your inner competitor. At our gym, everyone seems to have a mad skill or set of skills: some guys can do kipping pullups ad nauseum, and some of the girls can do double under jump ropes with the ease of licking an ice cream cone. The guys who perservere with the greatest grit and determination are the ones who are cheered on with the most zeal. Effort counts, but so does love of sport.
I think the key is to do what you like, and keep doing it harder and more swiftly. Row a kayak, climb a mountain, skip a rope at an insane pace, bust out some mad burpees in your living room. See what works, and keep doing it, eat fresh, unprocessed foods. I bet you'll be stunned that being fit doesn't have to suck giant fetid donkey balls.
I know I was.
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