crossfit crossfit crossfit open open open (and just a little bit of obsession)

I got close enough to sniff the bagels at work yesterday. All morning, I saw everyone munching bagels while they worked, and I knew if I just walked down the hall to the coffee bar, I would see a bag of fresh Panera bagels with cream cheese that some kind soul had brought in as a Friday morning treat.

So I tried to resist going over there. It’s really the only way I can ever keep myself from eating this stuff. Eventually, though, I had to walk in that direction for some other reason, and I stopped, and I looked in the bag at the delicious selection of fresh-baked goodness, and I sniffed them. Yes, I really did. I sniffed the bagels like I was trying to inhale the taste through my nose. And then I walked away.

That’s not something I would ever usually be able to do. But this week was the first WOD in the CrossFit Open, and I am obsessing. Not about doing well in the competition; I have no illusions on that front. Just about CrossFit in general. About being part of something that tens of thousands of other people are also part of. And maybe a little bit about getting a good score (let’s face it, we all know I’m ridiculously competitive).

I feel like every crossfitter who has a blog, or ever blogger who crossfits, eventually ends up writing at least one post about their love affair with the sport.

The funny thing is, though, it’s not my favorite sport in the world. If I had the option, it would take me about three seconds to pick riding horses over CrossFit (and I would only be spending those three seconds trying desperately to figure out if I could do both). But what I really love about CrossFit is crossfitters: these people who can be madly competitive and, at the same time, completely encouraging (and inappropriate, and hilarious, and everything else).

“Man, this is the only place where you can call a woman a beast, and she’ll take it like the complement it’s supposed to be,” a buddy informed me the other day.

It’s also one of the few places where it’s alright come in and immediately find a friend with whom you can share the fact that you’re not wearing any underwear today. Or share other stuff too.

A: “Hey ladies, does anybody have an extra sports bra with them?”

Me: (As I’m rowing away, and already sweating) “Uh I don’t know if this would gross you out, but I’m actually wearing two right now.”

A: (No hesitation) “Can I have one?!?”

Having the open workouts just gives me even more of an excuse to hang out with these people, to collaborate, or commiserate, or whatever. Yesterday, it was all of 6:30am before I was texting a friend about the open workout. But I felt okay about it because she was the first one of us to confess, “I couldn’t sleep last night. I was obsessing about being able to snatch 100lbs.”

In the afternoon, the two of us showed up at the box with no intention of actually doing the WOD. Instead, we just pulled out some weights, and our wonderful trainer volunteered to spend almost 45 minutes critiquing our snatch technique, or else yelling at odd intervals, “GET UNDER THE BAR!” I ended up staying for almost two hours doing I-don’t-know-what. Chatting? Lifting? Stretching? Who cares? I just couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.

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