CrossFit Allows Ordinary People to be Extraordinary

The event was in an agriculture showcase pavilion. The walls were covered by blue and gold panels, centering a slightly off center banner with a faded Tennessee Tech golden eagle. A carpet of artificial turf covered the uneven ground, leaving mounds and valleys like a fourth grade geography project. There was a cold draft running through the building in a way that’s probably perfect for showcasing livestock. A sign over the normal concessions area reminded me of a the concessions at my little league games. Suckers for a quarter. Hotdogs and Cokes for a dollar. “Popcrn” was fifty cents.

Everything about the facility was very functional, outdated, and ordinary. This was hardly the place where one could expect to see the greatest athlete in the brief history of competitive CrossFit, but everyone in the audience at the Hyder Burks Pavilion for the Iron Eagle Challenge was there to see someone extraordinary. Whether he was there to legitimately compete or he wanted to do his hometown a solid, Rich Froning was there as a competitor.

Now I didn’t expect him to ride in on a winged lion holding a scepter. But to my surprise, he was surprisingly ordinary. 

Not his competing, of course. He was a marvel to watch. But he, himself, Rich Froning, was someone I could easily pass on the street and not notice. He hung around waiting for his turn on the bumpy surface, chatting with other competitors. A couple of my friends snapped pictures with him. He occasionally hung around in the back to look at his phone.

This didn't seem right. I’d seen this man dominate the fittest on Earth. He did it almost effortlessly. Why didn’t he seem… different?

This is the secret of CrossFit. This is why it’s become a national phenomenon. CrossFit is about ordinary people doing extraordinary things. 

The major sports in America are all inaccessible to 99 percent of us. I can play basketball, but I’ll never play with Kevin Durant. I can go to a football game, but I’ll never have access to talk to Peyton Manning. The stars and their abilities are separated from us because they are elite and we’re not. There are a lot of factors that contribute to this divide (namely money), but it doesn't change the fact that my inability to run a 4.2 second 40 yard time or dribble past LeBron James prevents me from having access to that world.

In CrossFit, however, this is a real possibility. My friends, who are everyday normal people, competed against the best. Literally. The best. They got smoked, but it was awesome.

This might come across as living out some childhood fantasy of being a sports hero, and maybe it is. But this is the same feeling that makes fantasy football a $70 Billion industry (that’s billion with a “buh”) and the World Cup the most significant, cultural event on Earth. We all want to be a part of something amazing. You might be above experiencing the dreams you had when you were ten, (ahem… snarky NY Times writer…) but for the rest of us its a heck of a lot of fun. 

Froning didn't actually win the Iron Eagle Challenge. It was a partner competition, and his other half couldn’t finish the last lift of the hang clean ladder. This, however, made him even more endearing and likable. I’m just speculating, but winning didn’t seem like the most important part of the day to him. It was the joy of competing, and that’s something we can all share.

Don't Let the Whiteboard Define You

The whiteboard is such an obnoxious thing we do in CrossFit right? This little tap on your shoulder telling you to go harder so you could beat Janet’s Fran time or Tom ’s front squat. It’s annoying isn't it? This daily reminder of what you could've done because, odds are, you're like the rest of the world and dont red line every single workout. It’s like your nagging mom or disappointed dad are assessing your WOD.

This is the self talk so many of us have in the gym. Its constant. It raises so many feelings of inadequacy, like our workouts pail in comparison to anyone else’s and we’re somehow failures.

Stop and think about that for a second. We feel like failures because of the results of a WOD. Instead leaving our box feeling empowered, we feel defeated because our best didn't measure up to someone else’s best. 

When I was training for a half marathon a couple of years ago, my friend who was a seasoned marathon pro told me, “There will always be someone faster, and there will always be someone slower. Just run your race.” This is the reality of the whiteboard and the important distinction between competition and comparison. 

The pursuit of beating everyone in your box is a battle without end. Because as soon as you're at the top, there will be another box… then another… then another. You might as well be on a hamster wheel.

Let me give you an image of what the end game of this relentless pursuit looks like down the road. Wright Thompson of ESPN wrote a haunting description of Michael Jordan’s life after basketball. He seems so miserable, unable to test his now faded abilities against the best. Watching his aura of invincibility fade. There’s no aging gracefully for him. Just rage that he’s aging at all, losing the competitive ability that made him better than everyone else.

Its an odd thing we do to ourselves, taking this one aspect of our God-given lives and use as a litmus test to what kind of person we are. Just getting to the gym might have been an overwhelming battle for you the day you posted your worst Fran time. Your child vomited in the car. You had fight with your spouse. Your boss said you had to work over the weekend. All these things can affect our performance, but we get hung up on our place on the whiteboard because thats what everyone else will see. This is is how I will be assessed as a person.

How silly is this?

Part of what has made CrossFit so special to me is the lesson that I’m capable of more than I would’ve ever imagined. That I can be a strong, powerful man who can accomplish something hard. That I can accept a challenge and succeed. This means more to me than anytime I’ve “won the whiteboard”.

So how can we chose a better way? How can the whiteboard become a tool for you as an athlete to challenge your limits and not a roadblock in your personal growth?

Simple: You must tell yourself you don’t need it.

This isn’t an easy thing to do, considering it’ll probably tap into to a whole lot of other issues you may have swirling around inside you, but it’s not complicated. The whiteboard is a tool. It cannot tell you anything about your life other than the basic numbers of a WOD. That’s it. It can be a fun way to compete with your fellow athletes or it can take over and sabotage your experience with CrossFit. It’s ultimately up to you.

Allow the lessons of you've learned challenging yourself in CrossFit to translate into this part of your life. This is the Murph of growing as a person. You have to chose to change the dialog in your head, even when it’s hard.