Thought I was gonna puke halfway through last night’s workout. Bless his heart, the coach was like, “You should do a shorter run for this last round.” So I did, and I didn’t puke, and all was well with the world.
Crossfit seems to be about destroying yourself physically, workout after workout after workout. Short term misery for long term gains. You work your ass off during the skills and strength training part of the class, then you dump everything you’ve got left into the metcon, until you’re utterly incapable of giving anything more, and lying on the floor after the workout of your life.
That moment when you’re finished. And you don’t have to take one more step. And you know you’ve given it everything you can. And you know that somehow, you still have to find the energy walk off the fieldwalk home. And it’s the best feeling ever.
Also, it’s insanely expensive, has a rabidly obsessive community, instills in its followers sense of moral superiority over the rest of the world, and encourages a cult-like social scene.
Yup. CrossFit feels a lot like drum corps, sometimes.