Crossfit Crazed

How do you know if someone does Crossfit?
-Because they talk about it all the damn time.

I should apologize to my friends as I am becoming one of those crazed Crossfit addicts. I decided to join a local Crossfit recently to help propel myself back into the world of exercise, may sound weird coming from someone who trains/coaches for a living. Nonetheless I decided that it was time to end my depressed, six-month hiataus that had led me down a road to weak arms and "chicken legs." (NEVER in my life has someone said this to me, when they did I didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or insult). I decided that I needed something to be a part of again, without racing I kind of felt lost and I thought joining other people who seemed to be as crazed as I could be would be a great idea!

I found a "box" as they are called that I decided I would be calling home and I was hooked before I even set my foot in the door. I walked in, not really knowing what to expect, I guess I should have. I've seen those Crossfit games where the contestants have muscles bulging out of their earlobes...and here was no different. I looked around and everyone was built! Shoulders, legs, arms, abs...and in that moment I wanted to run, run away screaming like a scared child. What the hell had I decided to sign-up for?

We (being the other frightened souls who had decided to give it a try) were warmly greeted by the owner's wife. We were taken through the ideology, their view on things such as form, workouts, and even welcoming the people, like myself, who were defiantly out of shape. We were then taken through a "mini" workout, of course my over-competitive nature and drive to win kicked in and I was bound and determined to "win" this thing...even though there is no winning! Ha. In the six minutes that it took me to complete the workout I was gasping for air, dripping sweat, and cursing myself for letting my fitness get that bad, but no turning back.

It has been almost a month since I joined. The very first week I could barely walk, had to lean over to brush my teeth, and I'm pretty sure at one point I took a nap on the floor because I couldn't get up. I still have yet to learn anyone's name, except for the same trainer who leads the morning sessions. But one thing that I have noticed is that no matter whether you finish first or last people are cheering you on, pushing you to do better. The cheers ALWAYS get louder for the last person who is finishing up. Now if that doesn't scream family or community to you then I don't know what does. I even had a fellow Crossfitter (I don't know his name) pause in the middle of his workout to come over and explain to me where the barbell needed to be placed for cleans, front lunges, etc. helping me to get better results (and not pop the bar up into my face or end up dropping it on my femur). So thank you to whoever you are.

I feel like I am beginning to be a part of something again. Although I can't do a muscle-up or toes to bar, or even lift as much weight as I used to, I am still accepted into their community. I notice and feel myself getting stronger every day, and I can see those abs lines starting to appear! Just in time for Spring Break...which I will spend working, but who cares.

They don't lie when they say that Crossfit is an addictive cult atmosphere, but I'd say it's a positive one helping people to only better their lives.

The End of What Was

It’s 11:45pm on New Year’s Eve. The Bourne Ultimatum is on pause on the  TV in the background and my phone is buzzing non-stop with “Happy New Year” texts. I’ve been reflecting all day on the events of 2012. Thinking back, many of them I would like to forget. This year has seen more tears than smiles, heard more cries than laughs, and has been one of utter heartbreak.

In case you haven’t noticed, that is for the few who actually read my blog, I’ve been MIA for the last few months, okay like several months. This blog was supposed to be about my journey as an athlete, an off-road triathlete, one who was going to go places and do great things. The training, the racing, the competition and everything that comes along with that. It was a blog to take you (anyone interested in reading) along on the journey with me. I’ve been MIA because I am no longer a triathlete, no longer a mountain biker, and no longer an athlete.

Too many crazy stunts and perhaps too much carelessness lead me to being diagnosed with post-concussive syndrome, as one doctor put it or a TBI (traumatic brain injury), according to another…such ugly words aren’t they? Either way you word it, it still means exactly the same thing. No more biking. Not exactly what a 23 year-old aspiring XTERRA Champion wants to hear, and with that my racing/riding career was over. Almost as quickly as the day it started [This is the first time that I have been able to type/say this out loud without bursting into tears]. I lost a major part of myself the day that my doctor told me that I needed to decide what I wanted out of life. I chose for the sake of my health, that my brain was more important. Luckily my injury is mild, I forget things easier than I used too and if I read something – forget it. I won’t really be able to tell you much what it’s about. Might not sound like a big deal to you, but it’s a huge game changer for me. I’ve been super hesitant to share this with anyone because I don’t want anyone’s pity, sympathy, or judgments. But I am a strong enough person to overcome this and to thrive with it. I think I’ve finally come to a point where I’m okay to share this now. It is now a part of who I am and it makes me ME, so I better start embracing it.

An event like this makes you question a lot of things, like decisions that were made, sacrifices, relationships and friendships that were missed out on. I keep coming back to the question, was it worth it? And my honest to God answer most days is “YES it was worth it.” Through racing I was blessed with so many friends, amazing experiences, and I got to race/ride in some of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. While my “career” wasn’t as long as I had hoped for, I finally decided it was time to stop mourning the loss of it and celebrate what I got to enjoy from it. For it was when I was on my bike that was when I was truly my happiest.

I’m not going to lie and say that I have 100% accepted what has happened. I still cry myself to sleep some nights and I still find my attention being drawn to a passing cyclist, or my longing to have the wind and dust in my face going down a descent. That is a part of me that I am not quite willing to give up yet, a part of me that might just always be there.

Right now I am just Jess. I have no identifier or title. Merely a culmination of my past experiences stitched together to give you the person that I am today.

A person whose role has changed from athlete to cheerleader (we need to find a new title for this – I can’t picture myself as such…”superfan”maybe? I mean, I do own a cape for goodness sake) to support my friends. A person who loves what she does, training and beating the ever-living crap out of people, only to make them into stronger athletes (I get a little too much joy out of this…but it’s for the client’s benefit. I PROMISE).  A person who cares too much about people and wants to help everyone. I try to play it off like I don’t care sometimes, but I do. Ha. A person who is over the moon to hopefully be starting grad school next summer…that way I can learn how to even more accurately beat up on my athletes (I’m sure they are just elated about that, if you didn’t catch the sarcasm in that…you should’ve). And a person who is slowly but surely finding her way back to the big man upstairs and embracing the woman who she is becoming.