"Why am I doing this?!"
The answer is simple, but it's one that I have to be reminded of often.
Because I have to. Because I can't afford to fail. Because it's what is going to save me.
It may seem a bit melodramatic, but it's my truth. It's why I take it so seriously.
It's probably taken me all of the last three years to really focus in on that truth and to fully understand the answer to why I'm doing what I do. It's taken all those other questions and many frustrating hours in the gym to get my head back to where it was on day one. Back to the big "why" of it all.
CrossFit is many things to many people, and I'd be willing to bet that while most people fall into similar categories they all answer their own "why" a little differently. For a small few - owners, coaches, pro athletes - CrossFit is a career. For others it's a means to another athletic end - those using CrossFit to enhance their game in some other sport. Some people are chasing the feeling they had competing and training in high school or college. Some do CrossFit to get stronger and healthier for their jobs or so they can take better care of their families. Some show up at the gym with the primary goal of just looking better naked. For still others it's a hobby, stress relief, social hour, time away from real life, an escape... The answers are endless and all completely valid. That's what's so great about the community and what draws people in. That this one training methodology can mean so many things to so many different kinds of people. That it can help all these people reach all those different goals.
For me CrossFit isn't a hobby and it's not something I'm doing for fun - even though it's become something that I love to do. CrossFit is a treatment plan. It's the path I chose - over medicine, over surgery - to treat my diagnosis of type 2 diabetes and morbid obesity. "Morbid" being the keyword there - a word that has its roots in the Latin words for death and disease. That's what I'm fighting against. I'm doing what I'm doing so I don't have to worry that I'm going to die early.
For lack of a better analogy, when I joined CrossFit I basically checked myself into an obesity rehab program. There are all kinds of rehabilitation programs, not just the ones for drug and alcohol - I spent a month in an orthopedic rehab center after my accident. Rehab is hard work. Most people don't go to rehab for fun, because there really isn't much fun to be had. They go to get better. To fix a problem.
Looking back on my last rehab experience there was a lot of pain and frustration and tears and soul searching... CrossFit rehab has been fairly similar. When I first went to the ortho rehab I had just gotten out of the hospital, I was stuck in bed, I couldn't sit up, I was barely able to eat and keep food down. I was a mess. The second time I was there I came in completely dependent on others for everything, but I had just been cleared to sit up and bear weight on one leg. After two weeks of hard work I could get in and out of a wheelchair and a bed, I could dress myself, take a shower, use a regular bathroom, and stand for very short periods of time. 6 months later I was basically back to being a somewhat normally functioning, self-sufficient adult.
If I look at my three year CrossFit journey in that same way it's really not so different. This past weekend Brickhouse celebrated our 5th Anniversary (and I my 3rd) with a workout that took us all over town to the first two training locations. It was a great way for all of us to look back on where we started both as individuals and as a community. I was worried going in because the workout included over a mile of running and it's still really difficult for me. It hit me on the run that even though I was struggling and had to walk most of it, I was still able to run short distances and that little bit was more than I could do three years ago. I doubt I could have even walked the course when I started.
When we made it back to the location where I started training a wave of memories came rushing back. In sharing those with my coaches it became even more clear that I'm on the right path with the right people. I'm not the same scared girl that first walked into that brick building three years ago. I'm not afraid anymore that I'm going to die early because I have a plan and and a team behind me and I'm fighting. Yes, I may not be able to run a marathon or lift as heavy as I want to... but I can walk over a mile without pain and I can get up off the ground without a convoluted set-up of plates and rings and the help of two other people. My burpees may not be fast or efficient but I can do them on the ground and not using a bench.
When I joined Brickhouse three years ago it wasn't to make friends and have fun and be competitive. It wasn't because I was bored and needed a hobby. It wasn't with some grand vision of having a fabulously chiseled body. I knew I had to do something to change my life. To save my life. I didn't know if I could even make it through the first month and it blows my mind that I've stuck with it and trained consistently for three years now. It makes me really proud of myself and the choices I've made.
I'm forever grateful to my coach and teammates for the support, encouragement, and inspiration. For understanding and helping me answer my "why" and being there to remind me when I get distracted. For keeping me focused on the things that will help me reach my goal and making sure that everything I do has a purpose to that end. It means more to me than I can ever fully express.
*Photos by Liz Bateson - Brickhouse Media Team
