I started doing Crossfit five years ago.
At the time, I considered myself to be in great shape. I’d always been in the gym and had been doing triathlons for the six months leading up to my first Crossfit class.
I didn’t know quite what to expect when I went in for my complimentary first Crossfit class. All I knew was my sister said, “It’s like a Rocky gym with ropes and tires!” I’d always been game for any challenge and this seemed to be right up my alley.
My original goal was just to get stronger so I could do better in my triathlons. Little did I know that I would not only get stronger physically, but mentally and emotionally as well—leaving my triathlons as a thing of the past.
I’ve always been “tough” when it comes to life. Life always seemed to be throwing something at me that I had to either climb over, suffer through or dodge past. So Crossfit was a natural fit. In the months that followed my first Crossfit class, I learned how to: climb a 15-foot rope, flip a 500-pound tire and snatch, clean and squat a barbell. All along, I learned how to jump higher, run faster and master the body-destroying burpee.
Each time I walked into that gym, I felt at home. It was the first “gym” I had ever been to where everyone knew my name. I shared blood, sweat and tears with my fellow box-mates. After each workout, I found myself laid out on my back, gasping for air, covered in chalk and smiling at the ceiling. Excited for tomorrow, so I could come back and do it again.
You see, at the time, I was going through a rough patch in life. Just one year prior, I’d buried my mother after she lost her battle to cancer. My then husband’s business was currently going under, and we were being forced to short sale our home.
I was understandably depressed.
Read more at Elephant Journal.
