Adventures of a Crossfit Virgin

On the weekend, I tried something different for my workout.   

I ventured into the world of Crossfit.

I’ve seen glimpses of Crossfit in magazines and blogs.  There’s something fascinating about it to me.  You can read about Crossfit here and probably a thousand other places on-line. There’s lots of videos out there too. 

Crossfit gyms are sparse, open, and often look like garages, with the door up and air blowing through.  People swing on pull-up bars.  They do clean-and-jerks.*  They swing kettle-balls.  Jump on boxes.  Flip tractor tires.  And a bunch of other moves.   There is a different workout every day, typically made up of three drills repeated in a fast and intense circuit.  The total workout is designed to be finished in about 25-30 minutes.  Then you’re done.  Like you find yourself heaving on the floor in a pool of your own sweat.  That kind of done.  

I like the idea of more full-body movement.  I like the idea of the circuit.  I like the idea of new, fresh, varied, and intense.  And more and more, I like the idea of functional fitness and strength.  So I was pretty excited to go with my friend Sandy to a class.  

The workout of the day went like this.     

- 15 “knees to elbows”

- 200 metre sprint

- 15 medicine ball clean and jerks*

- repeat seven times fast; 2 minute rest in-between.

And with the words “knees to elbows”, I came face-to-face with my workout nemesis: the pull up bar. 

There is something about the pull-up – and that bar – that scares me.  This is not new.  I’ve been struggling with pull-ups since I started working out.  And by struggling I mean, I can’t do ‘em.      

To be clear, this is what a ‘knee to elbow’ move is.

Looks pretty straightforward, right?  

Uh, this was pretty much me doing ‘knees to elbows’.

My God, it was ugly.  I found myself swinging around like a crazed orangutan.  My legs were in positions I typically reserve for childbirth.  I feel deeply sorry for the people who had to witness it.  I wish I could have warned them just how ugly it was going to get.  The nightmares they must be having. Sweet mercy, the nightmares.

But monkey flailing aside, I persevered.  I never did actually touch a knee to an elbow.  I never did a full 15 in a row without a break.  But I did them the best I could. My body defied my brain as it screamed ”YOU CAN’T DO THESE, REMEMBER?!”  Then I sprinted.  Then I squatted.  Then I did it all over again.  Seven times.  

By the third circuit, the palm of my left hand was bleeding.  By the end of seven, I’d wrenched my shoulder.  When I was done, I felt like I’d really worked.  Like really worked out.  Believe me, every muscle in my upper body still feels it today. 

So…Crossfit.  It was hard.  It was ugly.  It hurt.  But on a deeper level I kind of enjoyed it.  Because, I think, I pushed a boundary.  I did something new.  I faced a fear. 

Would I do it again?  I think so.  There was something primal and fun about it.  And I think there’s something there I could incorporate into home workouts. 

But I think I’ll slow down and focus on learning the techniques.  More form.  More focus.  Less crazed monkey. 

Believe me, nobody needs to see any more of that.

*I do not actually know what ’clean and jerk’ means.  But I feel cool throwing the term around