Most people who join cults aren’t necessarily crazy to begin with. They’re just searching for something. Seeking fulfillment for a hole in their happiness. They get recruited by people with a cause. They detect passion, and after enough persistence that passion becomes a little bit contagious. Outsiders view cults as a bunch of crazies. They see obsession and loose screws. And they are usually right. When a cult begins serving shady tasting Koolaid at their gatherings, you better believe its time to separate yourself. But there is one cult I believe in. One I belong to. And I wholeheartedly preach its gospel. It’s the CrossFit Cult.
About 3 years ago, I heard about this crazy fitness movement called CrossFit. The leaders were gun-toting (think arms), six-pack rocking (not beer), badasses. The girls were healthy and hot. The men were strong and lean. It seemed like a VIP crew of fitness crazies that did things that seemed a bit extreme for my taste. Who would willingly climb 16 foot ropes, and prop hundreds of pounds above their head? Who would choose to do push-ups out of a handstand, and hang from a bar continuously attempting to touch their toes to the very place their hands held tightly? Madness. But then the passionate followers got to me. I had a hole that needed filling…and perhaps some snatches, jerking, and squats could do just that. I joined the cult.
I’m not a priss. But I was a little shocked when I arrived for my first Crossfit experience to find a dirty warehouse with a concrete floor, some bar bells, and a stereo. But it rocked my world. The movements were never wasteful. They engaged every inch of you from your core to your extremities. The workouts were tough, but adaptable to individual abilities. I was a beginner, as were many others, and I could scale anything just enough to get a super intense workout just like the big kids…without having to skip half the skills because I wasn’t physically capable. And the people were supportive. We were a team, all with the same goal; health and personal betterment.
I soon adapted to the language. The box was not a box. Or a female body part. It was the gym. A WOD was not a blast of baby batter, rather, a workout of the day. I cleaned before I jerked, and jerked before I ever touched a snatch. Snatches are complicated. I played with balls and bells, then moved up to bigger balls and bells. I practiced posterior chain engagement and proper grip endlessly. It all sounds like a dirty bit of fun. And it was. CrossFit fun. Soon enough, discussing weights and reps and times became an integral part of my day.
Next I managed to decipher the dress code. Nobody in CrossFit cares about matching attire, curled ponytails, and hoop earrings. At the gym, you apply chalk, not mascara. The men with pythons developed from excessive dumbell curls were always in for a run awakening, and the pretty princesses turned to beef-eating badass b*tches. At the box, there are just a few guidelines to adhere to. Flat-soled shoes; better for lifting. Knee high socks; to save the skin on your leg from rope climbs and bar bells. A good sports bras (or for guys, some compression shorts); sh*ts gonna be moving all over the place. Black shorts or tights…a personal preference to camouflage any butt sweat or pee (from jump-roping – those who beared children may understand). A headband of sorts; if you finish and your hair is cute you didn’t work hard enough, so hold those locks back. And a water bottle. With water. CrossFit turns jump ropes into prized possessions, and party animals into fish oil shot-takers.
As far as the nutrition goes…lets just say I’m still working on that. For me, it’s the most difficult step, but I’m a work in progress. I relapse regularly, but most addicts fail before they succeed. I think the next 8 weeks is my time to shine. Think meat and veggies, nuts and seeds, little startch, and no sugar. This can be rough on a sugar addict. But it’ll leave you feeling oh-so-good. Trust me.
Regardless of obstacles, I still crave my fix. I can’t go more than a few days without my beloved CrossFit. Which is why I opened my very own with some dear friends and my hubby. Now we are cult leaders. And it’s my firm belief that this cult is where it’s at. We might be a little crazy, but in the most productive and positive way. CrossFit encourages community, hard work, and self-improvement. Quickly, you’ll see a difference in self-esteem, fitness level, and body composition. And the bottom line…CrossFit is a cult preaching and practicing living a healthy lifestyle. And it redefines health so the masses can acheive it. So join us, cause this cult is worldwide my friends. You may end up on the floor unable to move for a moment, but it won’t be from the Koolaid. Just the end of a WOD.