CrossFitters fear only one thing:

The WOD (Workout of the Day.) The enemy pales in comparison.
If they do not, it is not hard enough.

The WOD - MON, 20JULY09


BARBARA
5 rounds for time:

  • Pull ups, 20 reps
  • Push ups, 30 reps
  • Sit ups, 40 reps
  • Squats, 50 reps

    Post times to comments








    Jon Gilson of Again Faster on

    Dedication. . .

    You think you know pain, but you have no idea.  The heart
    thumping, chest expanding, lactic acid burn of your last workout
    was a walk through the meadow.

    Somewhere, there's a guy who did it in half the time it took you. He suffered. Plasma forced its way into his lungs, causing him to hack on repeat. He choked down bile halfway through, and ended on his back, pupils dilated to the size of dimes.

    While you were walking around, telling your friends how hardcore your
    workout was, Guy Number Two was still collapsed, the prospect of
    driving home as daunting as climbing K2 during a snowstorm.

    When he finally stood up, he didn?t say a word.

    CrossFit is a decidedly masochistic pursuit.  To be any good at it, you have to enjoy the pain.  You have to push back the threshold day after day, until last year's traumas feel like an hour-long rubdown at the Canyon Ranch.  One day, you find a threshold that takes the whole thing just a little too far, and you get scared to go back.

    The men and women that decimate your times are not superhuman.  They're not particularly genetically gifted.  Hell, most of the top CrossFitters in the world would get absolutely pummeled in your standard game of rugby, buried by larger athletes begat by larger parents.

    What differentiates these individuals is not a gift, but an unreasonable desire
    to push self-imposed suck beyond its logical limits.  What comes out the other side becomes legendary.

    Like any human pursuit, we seek ways around the hard part.  Limited range
    of motion and new techniques.  Dropping the deadlift from the top, bouncing it off the floor.  Squatting above parallel and not standing up all the
    way.  Chicken-necking above the chin-up bar, and reviewing the tape to see if we made it.  

    We want the reward (speed) without the sacrifice (pain).

    This is not conscious cowardice.  It?s pure out-and-out rationalism. 
    At some point, the next threshold is the one that takes it too far,
    leaving us in an exercise-induced hallucination that lasts a few
    moments too long.  Our hearts bounce around our insides for
    one beat too many, and our lungs beg to explode for an unwanted
    extra second.  Every exhalation coincides with a constriction
    of vision, and the cold taste of copper.  

    No sane human being would enjoy such a feeling.

    Still, the glory reckons.  Surely, with enough training and the right
    supplements, there?s a way around the Hard Part.  Enough
    sleep and enough vitamin B will get you the sub-whatever time
    without the attendant pain.  There?s no need to redline your
    heart rate or pop capillaries.  No need to ache so badly at
    night that you can?t sleep.  Surely, there are ways around
    this.

    Fortunately, the steroids are a no-go, and the exercises are done correctly
    or not at all.  The only way to legend is through ever-mounting piles of
    pain.  The meadow has to tilt at 45-degrees, and the rubdown at the Ranch must be done with Brillo Pads.  If you can talk, you're not trying
    hard enough.  If your nerves aren?t frayed and ready to
    rebel, you?ll never get there.

    Do yourself a favor, and realize that there?s no technique in the world that will save you.  There are no pills, no secrets, no passwords on the path to greatness. You've got to embrace the pain, push the threshold, and feel the suck, and then you?ve got to muster the courage to go back six times a week.

    After all, the world is a lot brighter when your pupils are the size of dimes, and massaging your sternum with your heart starts to feel good after a while.  The plasma finds its way out of your lungs, and eventually you'll be able to drive. 

    Sometimes, lying on the floor is its own reward.



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