WARNING: This post has nothing to do with Crossfit. I just had to get this out today so here it goes...
I walked into work today to horrific news. My friend's 3 yr old daughter died. No warning. She was perfectly healthy, and moreover, beautiful, smart, charming, and sweet. No murmurs. No lung issues. No prematurity. She was sick in the morning with a mild temperature, and a little cough. Mom and Dad put her to bed, as any good parent would. And when they went to check on her a few hours later, she was there, pale, cold, and pulseless. There was nothing that could be done.
I can not imagine the pain that Dr. Jose and his wife must be feeling right now. I am praying that they will find strength, peace, and the knowledge that their daughter is in a better place. If you have a moment, say a prayer for them too. I guess with the way the world is, God needs all his angels right now....
And please, count your blessings. Give that person that you love (wife, husband, sister, child, friend) an extra hug and kiss today. If you have a beef with someone, let it go. Relish in spending time with the people that mean the most to you. Call your mom and say I love you. Then tell your dad, brothers, sisters, spouses, kids, and friends. Do the same tomorrow. You never know when you will be able to tell them next....
Friday, December 16, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Priorities
Recently, a good friend asked me
"If you could buy one skill (i.e., more strength, hspu, etc) in crossfit, what would it be?"
Man, was it tempting. I thought, I'd buy myself some more strength. Or more rowing ability. Or 10 hspu's. And then I realized, when it came down to it, I wouldn't buy a thing.
Because what is it worth if you haven't worked for it?
I have recently found myself frustrated with this new "quick fix" philosophy that I am seeing so prevalent in our community. As I delve further and further into crossfit, I am realizing one thing and one thing alone. It's about the process.
Is the end result really all that important?
Every one has a different answer to this question. But for me, my favorite moments have revolved around the struggle. Watching someone do something rx'ed and struggle through it, watching them try and try and try and finally get a rep, watching someone finish a workout despite being past the time cap because they refused to get beat. Those are the moments I remember. Rarely is it a time on the board.
The common ground between these athletes is their display of that rare mix of bravery and vulnerability, class and balls out determination, and heart. It is that heart, that drive for excellence, that bravery that serves as my inspiration.
I have devoted the last 4 months of my life to attacking one major weakness. Strength.
It has been really hard. Despite all of my work, I still have MORE work to do. The squats HURT. I don't get to do met con's which are fun and provide an endorphin rush. Sometimes, I am alone in a room with a bar. It's boring. And frustrating. And not to mention, each session takes 3 hours.
But through this PROCESS, I have learned discipline. I have learned the meaning of perfection. I have learned about conquering fear. I come in every day and try my absolute best. I have learned what correct looks like, and I am striving to get there.
And I have realized that there are no instant results. No quick fixes. No easy road. It takes effort, and courage, and trust, and a lot of sacrifice.
And quite honestly, I find it offensive when others come in there and don't show that same degree of effort.
I find it offensive that coaches would have to call someone out on doing fewer reps or "cheating." Obviously, this doesn't include scaling, but you get the drift. I find it offensive when someone comes into the strength asylum, and doesn't understand what being there means: the effort and the initiative to do things correctly.
It is not only our privilege, but also our opportunity and furthermore, our responsibility, to be the best versions of ourselves. The outcome doesn't much matter but the process by which we attain those outcomes sure does.
What joy is there in a victory that is not earned?
"If you could buy one skill (i.e., more strength, hspu, etc) in crossfit, what would it be?"
Man, was it tempting. I thought, I'd buy myself some more strength. Or more rowing ability. Or 10 hspu's. And then I realized, when it came down to it, I wouldn't buy a thing.
Because what is it worth if you haven't worked for it?
I have recently found myself frustrated with this new "quick fix" philosophy that I am seeing so prevalent in our community. As I delve further and further into crossfit, I am realizing one thing and one thing alone. It's about the process.
Is the end result really all that important?
Every one has a different answer to this question. But for me, my favorite moments have revolved around the struggle. Watching someone do something rx'ed and struggle through it, watching them try and try and try and finally get a rep, watching someone finish a workout despite being past the time cap because they refused to get beat. Those are the moments I remember. Rarely is it a time on the board.
The common ground between these athletes is their display of that rare mix of bravery and vulnerability, class and balls out determination, and heart. It is that heart, that drive for excellence, that bravery that serves as my inspiration.
I have devoted the last 4 months of my life to attacking one major weakness. Strength.
It has been really hard. Despite all of my work, I still have MORE work to do. The squats HURT. I don't get to do met con's which are fun and provide an endorphin rush. Sometimes, I am alone in a room with a bar. It's boring. And frustrating. And not to mention, each session takes 3 hours.
But through this PROCESS, I have learned discipline. I have learned the meaning of perfection. I have learned about conquering fear. I come in every day and try my absolute best. I have learned what correct looks like, and I am striving to get there.
And I have realized that there are no instant results. No quick fixes. No easy road. It takes effort, and courage, and trust, and a lot of sacrifice.
And quite honestly, I find it offensive when others come in there and don't show that same degree of effort.
I find it offensive that coaches would have to call someone out on doing fewer reps or "cheating." Obviously, this doesn't include scaling, but you get the drift. I find it offensive when someone comes into the strength asylum, and doesn't understand what being there means: the effort and the initiative to do things correctly.
It is not only our privilege, but also our opportunity and furthermore, our responsibility, to be the best versions of ourselves. The outcome doesn't much matter but the process by which we attain those outcomes sure does.
What joy is there in a victory that is not earned?
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