Badass.

So it's been awhile.
I've been getting back into the groove of CrossFit after a long and frustrating recovery from knee surgery. As much as I miss coaching, I am thoroughly enjoying the coaching I'm receiving at my gym of one year, CrossFit Mission Gorge. The gym itself has doubled (at least) in size in the year I've been attending, and there's no mystery in that. The coaches are excellent, the community is wonderful, and the programming is challenging. I am extremely happy there, and the community I've found makes it difficult to imagine ever leaving San Diego, which may come as a surprise to those who knew me in my previous life as an Arizonan.

April 2013 will mark my 6th year doing CrossFit. It has been a difficult, humiliating, exhilarating, and ultimately wonderful experience. Before CrossFit, I was not exactly sporty. I jogged and restricted food in order to attain the size and weight I thought I needed to be. I was never small enough or toned enough to be comfortable in my own skin, and I had no idea how to have a healthy relationship with food. I hated food. I loved food. I was afraid of my appetite and afraid of my weight. I was convinced that I took up too much space in the world, which is an awful place to be.

I hated myself.

I hated the mirror, I feared the candid photo, I was so uncomfortable in my skin, I wanted to crawl out of it. But, as they say, wherever you go, there you are. I couldn't escape myself, and I couldn't escape my body, which I believed was continually betraying me. I was terrified of turning thirty, when the fabled metabolic slowdown was supposed to take place. I gained weight with pregnancy and had no idea how to lose it. I was a failure. I was disgusting. I was worthless. I was invisible.

During a relatively shallow conversation with an acquaintance, I learned that a guy from the church I was currently attending was going to be starting a CrossFit gym and would be holding a $75 intro class. (I know! Can you believe I paid $75 for my foundations class!?) So I went, more in desperation than anything else, and was intrigued. Steve said it was hard, that it was difficult, that many people were intimidated by it, If there's anything I love,it's a challenge, and the idea of being able to do pull ups and push ups like a dude intrigued me. Weightlifting? I'd never done it before, but it sounded pretty badass.

It is actually badass, and I love it.

So, long story short, my first several months of CrossFit were mortifying. I was humiliated by my lack of coordination and spatial awareness. But, gradually, I got a little better at the things we were doing. It seems like it took me ages to learn things other people picked up immediately, but I kept with it. No stupid workout was going to beat me! But it did, in a way. It broke me down into my component parts and rebuilt me. It took me from who I thought I was to something closer to who I wanted to be.

I almost liked myself some mornings. But I hated that scale. I still hate that scale, but I am strong enough to stay away from it now.

Do we ever break free of the fear of taking up space? Is it possible to break free of the societal constraints we so willingly accept? We take these shackles and put them around our own wrists and ankles. We buy into the lie of perfection as defined by the entertainment industry. We let ourselves become so twisted that we cannot recognize ourselves in the mirror. And don't be mistaken: there are other impossible standards of beauty within every movement and subculture. CrossFit is not immune. So we have to find the courage within ourselves to say "Fuck you" to the outside voices that attempt to steal our identities.

I have fought for every PR, every skill, every push up and pull up and lift. I've bled for them. I've (nearly) puked for them. I've pushed myself beyond what I'd ever imagined I was capable of. And you know what? I haven't even gotten started.

This is my life, and I am living it one second at a time.