What I've Learned Through CrossFit

My clean and jerk max is 175 lbs.

My snatch max is 150.

My dead lift max is 350.

My back squat max is 315.

My best Fran time is 7:15.

None of these figures actually matter. They’re not all that impressive compared to Olympic lifters and CrossFitters. I’m not getting paid to improve my lifts. (It’s actually the opposite). But those numbers represent the greater story of my life over the last year and a half. 

My story is one of learning to hide. As a chubby, awkward teenager that grew into an awkward, slender adult, I became a master at hiding my true self. I just wanted to make everyone happy, so I became whatever the particular crowd I was with wanted me to be. So rather than pursue my own dreams I lived thorough my friends accomplishments, and I avoided conflict like the plague. I saw myself as helpless and weak.

I understood the Gospel in that Jesus loved me, but I didn’t understand how that made me into a powerful man of a God. In my eyes, Jesus loved me but I had to convince everyone else. My Young Life leader in high school told me I was a chameleon, changing my stripes to fit whichever crowd I was, but I saw it as self preservation. If they saw who I really was, there was no way they’d like me or accept me.

This way of life worked for a while. I was popular in high school. I made close friends and had amazing experiences in college. I fell in love and married an amazing woman.

After a few years, however, the charade had worn thin. Working to make everyone happy no longer worked, and my wife grew tired of living with a shell. I was a 29 year old man with no spine, no conviction, and no heart. I was the accumulation of years of becoming what everyone wanted. My Young Life leader’s words finally made sense. I was a chameleon who was no longer fooling anyone.

It was at this low point that my wife encouraged me to start going to CrossFit. (And by encouraged I mean she yelled at me to go out and do something.) I was terrified to walk into a room of strangers so exposed. I’d been scared of weights for a long time. Most of my life actually. On the surface, I’d tell you it was because I didn’t know anything about how to use them and that I didn’t care about being some muscle bound dude. But in reality, weights intimidated me. They only know truth. I could either lift them or I couldn’t, regardless of what I wanted people to think of me. I was going to be exposed. 

To my surprise, however, no one kicked me out. The weights exposed me and I was brought into the open, but to my surprise no one abandoned me. Instead, I realized how much I was holding back.

Progressively, my daily reconstructive process worked its way into other parts of my life. I stopped believing the lie that I was weak and started knowing that I was strong. I stopped believing the lie that I was inadequate and started knowing that I was capable. I started living my life knowing that God had made me into a man that had what it takes. 

Challenging WOD’s still makes me nervous, in the same way talking to people I admire turns me into a ball of nerves. But the difference I’ve learned through CrossFit is that I can accept who I am because at my core I’m capable enough to meet a challenge. The numbers I wrote in the beginning are more than records to impress other people. They tell the story of God building me into a man.

I’ve grown over the last year and half from an awkward, slender adult into an awkward, muscular man. 

And I wouldn’t have it any other way...

Thesis Statement

When I was eight years old, I fell in love with sports. It was October of 1992, and the Atlanta Braves were playing game seven against the Pittsburgh Pirates to move onto the World Series. The image of Sid Bream sliding under the tag at home with Dave Justice and the rest of the team waiting to embrace him in euphoric victory is so vivid in my memory it’s as if the moment happened within my family. The late Skip Carey’s cries of, “Braves Win! Braves Win! Braves Win!” still give me goosebumps to this day. When Otis Nixon grounded out to end the World Series against Toronto, I was unconsolable. In my young mind, I felt the heartbreak along with them. Even in my devastation, though, I was hooked.

My story is by no means unusual. I grew up in a family devoted to the Braves and the University of Tennessee, and my devotions continue to this day. However, my appreciation of athletics has broadened dramatically as I aged. I find myself at times enthralled in Premier League matches between Arsenal and Tottenham, or ecstatic when Farokmanesh and Northern Iowa put away Kansas on a three pointer to end all three pointers. I converse with complete strangers on the ramifications of the Cam Newton investigation, why I hate John Calipari, or if the Braves will find a better hitter in the off season. This may seem irrational, but it's fueled by a drive that goes to the heart of who we are and how we see ourselves.

Part of enjoyment in being a sports fan is expecting greatness. Fans in Atlanta expected to buy game tickets into late October through the 90s and early 2000s. Brazilians and Germans have no doubt their national teams will earn their way to the final rounds of the World Cup. Greatness is expected and anything less is considered unacceptable.

We all long to feel this way in our lives. To stand with our arms raised as conquerors while the crowds cheer in jubilation. These moments, however, are fleeting if they happen at all. We grow discouraged and look for any outlet to provide affirmation and recognition; someway to feel like a champion. It’s a frustrating, defeating cycle.

During the summer after my freshman year of college, I read Waking the Dead, by John Eldridge. His thesis statement was based on a quote from St. Irenaeus, “The glory of God is man fully alive.” That statement has been etched in my mind. I find myself indulging in sports to find the champion feeling that, in reality, is available every moment of every day. If I am made in the image of God, then I am a living, breathing representation of His power alive in the world. Paul wrote in the New Testament that through Christ, we are more than conquerers. Through Christ, we now stand atop the podium, with glimmering medals around our necks.

Rather than provide this affirmation, sports can help us more fully realize and understand this power God has poured out on us. I plan to write my blog from this perspective, providing commentary on this transcendent quality inherent in sports. I will write on a variety of topics which I hope you as the reader will find compelling. My goal will be to write an article each week, so continue checking back for more updates.

Thank you so much for reading.