When Corey and I were in Jamaica last summer, we discovered another shared attribute: we're not really team players.
We took off from the pina-colada infested resort and spent a day at Dunn's River Falls and we watched in awe as hordes of tourists paid to hold hands and sing songs and battle up over slimy jungle rocks. Corey and I sidled up the rocks far off to the side.
"That doesn't look like fun at all,"I said.
"Not at all," he replied.
Grimly, we slithered along over the slippery rocks on our own, making our mistakes without the knowledge of a guide, attempting to distance ourselves from the hordes of sing-songers and hand-holders. Not that there's anything wrong with jolly groups. They're just not for us. We like to struggle and slip and fall -- and laugh and arrive at the top -- on our own.
***
During our orientation at Crossfit, Coach Lu talked about stuff like energy input and output and overall strength through varied exercises. It was all fascinating, but I kept dwelling on the Group Classes stuff. I was cool with the prospect of rapid squats and rowing machines and I was even cool with lolloping awkwardly down the street with a giant medicine ball but I wasn't sure I was cool with displaying my chicken arm weakness and penchant for awkward sprawls with an entire class of athletic people. And I wasn't cool with the idea of lifting a heavy bar over my head. And: not cozy with the idea of squatting while holding a heavy bar.
Something would slip, something would bail, and the group witnessing every display of absurdity was about as appealing as snacking on maggots.
But Coach Lu was animated enough -- and I was sick enough of the repetition of shoulder presses at the gym - that we decided to give it a go. I was willing to leave my dignity at home if it meant I'd never have to sit on a sweaty gym machine again. And I could tolerate the group thing, I thought. As long as I didn't have to sing anything. And as long as no one laughed when I bailed.
***
I did bail, hard, during a technique session for a backsquat. The bar went flying and I went down, all Mr. Bean legs and doorknob kneecaps and gangly whiteness. My body wasn't sure whether to puke, moan, or guffaw at my own tangled absurdity and so I clutched the bar and remained splayed, silent. No one laughed, no one sang. Someone ran out for ice, and someone else relayed her story about her own bail under the bar. The group provided some support. The group, actually, was really kind of nice.
I now believe that the group component is the most important part of my dedication to fitness, and arguably the best thing about Crossfit.
I look forward to seeing friends at the gym for every workout. My muscles work harder when fellow Crossfitters tell them they can push it, can do it, can squeeze one more rep in. If you've ever stood in the middle of the room with wilted muscles and an impossible mission to lift a giantly heavy bar -- and if you've ever been yelled at by 5 or 6 people who are convinced you can do it -- then you'll know that those voices are often as powerful as the muscles: perhaps even more.
I've been doing lifting, jumping, running, squatting and pull-upping for almost 4 months now and, due totally to group encouragement, I'm no longer scared to try anything. Within a group that pushes themselves to the limit, there is accumulated power. This is something I never realized before.
***
I refused to go to group yoga or step classes for years because I was sure someone would be appalled by my total lack of coordination, my ridiculous long instability.
The me of two years ago would be amazed at the stuff I'm now attempting. I would have rejected the idea of strength in numbers and power in the voice of a group. My newfound confidence is extending out to my external life: last weekend I attempted a cartwheel with my son under the direction of my graceful, goat-legged partner. I pounded a tetherball and actually managed to connect with the ball. I'm ridiculously excited to do see what I can do next, and it's raising my expectations in all components of life. Where will we go, what will we do, how far will we push this life of ours?
(I like lifting large metai rods made purposefully heavier with black spheres. Who the hell knew? The Coach and my workout partner were both encouraging here, and I discovered to my surprise that there is something awesome about heaving a bar as hard as possible. Like yelling at someone, but without mental consequences. Bonus: no more chicken arms)
(Loud music thumps and the sweat pours and there is no room for overthinking or analyzing or hating because all you are during this stuff is raw, physical human. )
Whenever possible, I secure a spot behind Corey. If I stare at his back and watch him lift way more than I can imagine, it makes my load a little less heavy.)
(I know I talk about Crossfit a lot here. For those of you who can't justify the expense, or are not near a Crossfit, you can do most of the workouts in your home, with minimal equipment. You don't get the golden bonus of group rapport, but you'll still get a damned good workout.)
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