“I’ve lost more friends to CrossFit.”
A woman said this to me on the trail the other day, like CrossFit was a disease that took people when they were far too young. Except she didn’t mean it that way, in the finality of the moment. But there was a sadness in her voice, a melancholy ache like she was missing something she had never seen, and maybe didn’t even really believe in …
“They said, ‘I’m going to try CrossFit’ and then … they disappeared. It’s like that, isn’t it? You just never see them again. You people are all or nothing.”
I just chuckled. Maybe it does look that way. Like we kidnap folks. Drug them with chalk and sweat and laughter and kettlebells and, yup, love — as stupid and corny and pukish as that sounds. Make them WOD drunk until they can’t find the trail back to their former lives.
Maybe they don’t want to ever find the bread crumb trail back to that life. It was nice, but it’s not at all like what life is now.
The trail got a little rockier and we just continued bombing down the fire road on our mountain bikes. But the really funny thing was that I was already thinking of the box and the barbell and maybe some burpees for my next workout …
