Hello. My name is Aaron, and I know zero about CrossFit.
Or maybe I should say, I have internet knowledge of CrossFit, which counts as zero. I have the vague notion that somewhere, somehow, I’ve scrolled past various avatars sounding off this way and that way on something called CrossFit, and I know that a few years of this scrolling has coalesced into a set of hazy suspicions and hmmm's about CrossFit, but I count none of this as really knowing anything about it, whatever the Facebook might say.
I’m starting at zero. For instance, in the last five minutes, I learned you spell it CrossFit, not Crossfit, not Cross-Fit. I had to go back and edit my whole first paragraph.
On the flip-side, here’s what I do know: I know I’m pretty much terrible at exercise. I know I’ve never been good at sticking to it. I know my current gym inspires me to fitness about as much as the IRS inspires me to poetry. I know that all this is frustrating in the extreme, because when I do exercise I feel like Wall-E with a full charge of sunlight (or this guy, from Superman 4).
I know that a new CrossFit gym has opened up in my neighborhood (in Lincoln Park, behind Binny's!), and that Noah, the guy running it, is the straight salt of the earth. And I know that Noah wants me to give it a try. So here’s the plan.
I’m giving it 90 days. Call it a 90 day challenge. My challenge. To CrossFit.
CrossFit, prove thyself. Your opponent: me. Obstacles will include skepticism, apathy, a 36-year-old body that’s already starting to creak, and a general wants-results-without-the-work disposition. I don’t like exercise, but I do like feeling good. I don’t like gyms, but gosh, it would be great to not die early. I loved doing tricks with the rings on my jungle-gym when I was six. When I tried to do a flip on them at 15, I fell down bang on my head.
You have 90 days. Will you accept the challenge?