I wanted to quit 50 times

I wanted to quit 50 times. It was a long WOD, really it was two WODs in one, and I was tired. I’d gone through the first one fine but the second was tougher than I anticipated. My arms were sore and failing and I’d lost my wind. I just wanted to stop. Enough already, I’ve done a lot. Why do more? What am I gaining here?

The coach was right beside me, encouraging me to pick up the bar. Not yelling, screaming, or demanding that I do it, but calmly telling me with confident expectation what, deep down, I knew I needed to do. I’d pick up the bar and get another rep or two, and then I’d drop it again as thoughts of quitting continued to race through my mind. But the coach was there as well, gently but persistently instructing me to grab a hold of the bar and lift it once more.

As I listened to the war of words in my head I realized the battle wasn’t between the bar and I, it was between me and I. When I dropped the bar, was it my muscles or my mind that was telling me to stop, to give up, to quit? I still had the strength to do it, but did I have the will? Did I believe I could do it?

It’s one thing to fail in the attempt, after all not every intention is successfully executed. But it’s quite another thing to not even make the attempt. I wasn’t failing to achieve success; I was succeeding to achieve failure. Or put another way, I was defeating myself before I’d actually been defeated.

My lack of confidence in myself and my abilities made me want to give up and surrender. My coach’s confidence never wavered however, and my doubt began to turn on itself. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I can actually do this after all. I set aside the self doubt and picked up the bar again. I heard the coach’s voice beside me, “You can do this.” I pushed through the discomfort, “Yes, I really can do this.” I told myself, and rep by rep finally finished.

Completing the WOD was a mixture of relief and joy. I was glad to be done, but I was even happier that I made it to the end. I hadn’t quit, even though I had wanted to so many times. If not for the persistent support of my coach, I know I wouldn’t have finished. I used his confidence when I didn’t have any of my own. I finished, not because I wanted to but because I felt like I would have been letting him down if I had – insulting his faith in me.

I wanted to quit 50 times, but 50 times I kept going. I pushed past a barrier that I had placed in my own way that defined and limited what I could do. I’ve developed some physical toughness since I began Crossfit, but I now need to develop some mental toughness as well.

I need to let failure find me, rather than me looking for it. It’s all too easy to find or create failure, better to go forth and look for success instead.

2 Years of Crossfit

March 20, 2012 – the first day of Spring and my 2 year Crossfit anniversary. When I walked into the box tonight, it was appropriate that the first person I saw was Donkey – after all, she was the one who introduced me to Crossfit. I’ve known her for years, and over dinner one night she told me about this new thing she was doing called Crossfit. I could see the physical changes she’d experienced right in front of me and was impressed. At the time I was 44 yrs old, and feeling stuck in my fitness routine, not getting worse but not improving either. Clearly, the globo gym wasn’t cutting it. I also had 30 lbs. or so that I wanted to lose and couldn’t. Could Crossfit be what I was looking for? After a lot of thinking about it, I finally took the plunge and drove the hour from my home in NJ to King of Prussia.

I still have very clear memories of that first workout: it was a Saturday morning, Nikki Sieller was the coach, and after couple of pushups, some box jumps and a quick 200M run to warm up I felt spent. “Really, that’s just the warm-up?” I asked. “Yup!” I was told. Oh my, I thought, I’m in trouble. The WOD was a 21-15-9 of burpee pullups and 200M Farmers’ Carrys. Somehow I soldiered through the first 2 rounds (scaling massively) but just didn’t have it in me to even attempt the round of 9. I’d never worked out so hard in my life. I was completely wiped out. When I finally got home, being able to lie down on my bed was sheer ecstasy. I couldn’t believe just how good it felt just to simply lie down. Strangely, as exhausted as I was, I also felt somewhat exhilarated. A bit like surviving a near-death experience perhaps?

I was sore for days afterwards, but I also felt a bit taller and stood a little straighter. Wow, I survived that, I thought, if I can do that what else can I do? So I signed up for Foundations, and then got a punch card and started coming as often as I could. At first it was infrequently, I was more out of shape than I realized and it often took me days to recover from a workout. But each class brought a little more improvement, and it began to take less and less time to recover.

Another huge change that took place early on was switching my eating habits and adopting a mostly Paleo Diet. I started to see the weight drop off, I felt better, had more energy and the mid-afternoon fade I’d known for years disappeared. Plus, carrying around less weight made workouts easier.

I found I was doing more and harder work in the box than I would ever think of doing at my local globo gym. There’s something about how everyone pulls for you and cheers you on that brings out the best in you. I remember struggling through my first Filthy Fifty. Being older and slower, the rest of the class had finished ahead of me but, tired as I was, I didn’t want to give up and kept going by myself there in the corner of the box. A couple of people realized I hadn’t finished yet and came over to cheer me on. If they hadn’t I don’t know if I would have made it. With their support I was able to push through to the end, they even kept the time for me after the timer on the wall was reset for the next class. That sort of camaraderie and support isn’t an isolated thing at KoP. It has helped me become a better athlete and it keeps me coming back for more. I hope I’ve been able to give as much as I’ve received.

People ask me why I drive an hour to get to KoP. “You live in Jersey? Aren’t there other boxes closer to home?” they ask. There are 2 simple reasons: the coaches and the community.

The quality of the coaches at KoP is unmatched; every one of them is excellent. One of my primary concerns in joining was whether I’d be safe and learn to do the movements correctly to avoid injury. I know they’ve got my back and will ensure I’m doing it right, and I appreciate every correction I get. After 2 years, I’ve never gotten hurt – that’s a result of good coaching and me listening to that good coaching.

Just as important is the quality of the community at KoP: the open, friendly, supportive atmosphere made me feel right at home from the start, even though I wasn’t a “regular” and only showed up once in a while. That spirit in the gym flows down from the top and Aimee and Jason deserve credit for that. I’ve visited other boxes and often it’s not mentioned that I’m a visitor, and the regulars there, who clearly don’t know me, don’t bother to even say hello or welcome. That “silly” practice we have of calling out people who don’t know the names of the other people in class with them? It’s not silly. It’s important and we should all do it. After all, how can you cheer for someone or urge them on if you don’t know their name?

So, some things have changed in the 2 years since I first walked through the door: I’m 30 lbs. lighter, but have much more muscle mass and much less body fat; my resting pulse and blood pressure are both lower; my energy level is up; the 200M run that winded me then seems like such a short distance now; weights that challenged me (or were impossible) now feel light; I’ve met a fantastic group of people and at 46 I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life.

I’ll give myself some credit for working hard, but thank you Crossfit KoP for your support in making it possible. And thanks Donkey for getting me started.

First Post

Blackwell House on Blackwell's Island.

Now known as Roosevelt Island, this small island in the East River was once owned by my ancestors and was called Blackwell's Island.

To learn more about the history of Blackwell's Island go to:
Wikipedia or Roosevelt Island Historical Society