0 to 90 chronicles the CrossFit adventures of a know-nothing noob. For all 0 to 90 posts, click here.
I have a few vague assumptions about CrossFit, which have floated into my head from who knows where.
Assumption Number 1: Any place you’d work out is not a place you’d want to hang out. CrossFit Gyms especially.
The mental image I've had of the place where CrossFit people (Crossers? CrossFitties?) work out is one of a bare, gray, sweaty room, perhaps with a row of dingy mirrors on one end where the awesome might self-admire. I’m not sure where I got that picture. I guess what I was thinking was that it would be my gym, minus equipment.
So then, seeing this the first time I went into Goose Island CrossFit was a bit of a shocker.
Yes, there is an open space to do stuff in, but there’s also a reassuring line of clean, professional equipment lining the walls. There are no mirrors. I realize the reason for this: everyone who works out in this place has a coach, and therefore no need to turn their head and self-correct. Instead of mirrors: warm lighting (nice!), climbing ropes (uh-oh!), and — rings (gooooooooaaaaal)!
Have I mentioned how much I love the rings? Or maybe it would be more accurate at this point to say I love the idea of the rings. I used to love the actual rings, but that was before I became a “voracious reader”, “computer lover”, and “white-collar worker” (translation: someone who sits all day). The rings were my favorite thing. Turns out, you can’t maintain the energy of a six-year-old without trying.
Another thing. The room isn’t decorated with giant screens in every possible direction. If you’ve been to my gym (hint: rhymes with Hell-Pay-Fitless), you know what I’m talking about. I don’t go to a workout to Keep Up With the Kardashians, or to hear what latest inner struggle X former cast-member of Saved By The Bell is overcoming. No eye-spam is a huge plus in my book.
Wow. This is a place I might actually like to go to. As in, regularly. It’s pleasant. Comfortable. This surprises me, considering that my current gym often tempts me to reconsider my Protestant stance on the existence of purgatory.
I’m not sure what that giant, ominous-looking clock is doing on that wall. I suspect it will involve pain? We’ll just have to wait and see.