Coach's voice sounds a little gravelly; last night's group must have been fun. Almost in a state of suspended animation, you check the blackboard for the eleventh time, knowing that the workout must be imprinted in your head long before the clock starts. Once Coach starts that countdown, there's no more room for processing in that beating skull, only these: survive. drop the weight. hands on the bar. one at a time. go again. move!
There's no time, today, to remember that nervous person you used to be. The one who drove down Industrial Court 'B' three times before walking in. That dude, in jeans that didn't quite fit right, who had to suck in his gut for the whole first class; or that chick who thought that 'skinny' was the goal here. Friendless, a stranger on the Moon, you somehow got through that first group. Afterward, at the water cooler, you met Anna. And Philsy, and PJ, and RichandNancy (one word) and Carolle and all the rest. Soon, Leanne had talked you into her Paleo challenge (you recall thinking it had something to do with dinosaurs....)
Gradually, those jeans loosened. You started caring about your Fran time. You signed up for Murph in March (oh, how that hurt, but how you loved ranting about it to your friends at work!) You did BaseLine Week in May, every day at lunch with Clint, Brent, and Glen. Someday, you said, you'd hang with those guys for real....
And then, when a member of the Catalyst family needed help, you were there. You ran for them; you shouldered a small part of their burden, because you knew they'd be right beside you, too, if necessary. You did stuff at 2am that you never thought you'd do...well, never ever.
And when the Games rolled around, like they do every September, you answered. You wrote down your name before you could chicken out. You showed up, shivering nervously all over again, as ready as you'd ever be. By 2pm, you had realized that you'd lunged or skipped or burpee'd across some line back there somewhere, and there was no turning around. You'd become one of them: the Kool-Aid was long drunk. The 'refresh' button on your browser was worn down. You'd uttered the phrase, "too sick to go to work, but not too sick to do the WOD." Coop had mentioned you a few times in blog posts. You'd added other CrossFitters you've never actually met to your facebook friends list.
And now, today, at one minute to twelve, you're back at the Park. You're no longer "exercising" or even "working out." Now you're training. You're using the WOD to prepare; no longer for that next belt loop, but just because it's there. Because Deadlifts had the audacity to paste themselves to the chalkboard this morning, and damn it, you can taste 350. That record board has been waiting for your initials for too long. Coop wants a good picture? Today's the day he'll get it, by God, and he can use it for his Christmas cards. There's a newbie in the group, and you'll get them a glass of water when it's all over, but right now Coach is fiddling with the time clock and you've gotta get your heart rate under control and you need a piece of chalk and Donna's warming up with your max and the 7am Group hit really, really high numbers and can I handle this? and he's starting the countdown and it's too late to do anything but go and the bar's in my hands........
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