Abs To Envy

Abs To Envy

The other day, I saw a tee shirt on a fellow member of CrossFit that boldly stated

“Run Faster Than A Lifter, Lift More Than A Runner” (or something to that effect).

I kinda liked it, in that it seemed to cover several disciplines with one cutting remark. The only problem with sporting one of several types of tee shirts and shorts and other paraphernalia offered in the CrossFit world is my own personal hangup:

It never pays to boast or threaten when you can’t follow through yourself.

Since I can’t, at this juncture, run faster than lifters and I can’t lift more than a second grader, to wear a shirt declaring these attributes seems to be the acme of posing. And I just can’t tolerate posing or posers (poseurs? It seems like posing to spell it like that. I dunno).

But I digress. Some people are so immersed in singularity of purpose, everyone else looks like pikers. Take, for example, another brother of mine who goes by “Nan” around here. Here is a video of him squatting 1000lbs. or more (look for it around minute 4); this is a kid that was a rail thin teen survivor of cancer who, after completing several turns in the sands of Iraq for the Marine Corps, came back and began efforts to become insanely strong. Granted he looks like a tick and his thighs make pretty music when he walks, but the mofo is freak-strong. I might be able to out-run him but that’s cause he may well have a cardiac event beyond 20 yards. On the other hand, both Dirtbag and RoJo are committed runners, but I doubt I could outlift them. This is because Dirtbag is strong and fueled by rage, while RoJo is short, angry and a cop, thereby giving him unlimited potential to get pissed off and lift a lot of weight in a short amount of time. There’s no way I could outrun either of them, not unless I knee-capped them first.

This brings me into the class of people who like to loudly profess, “Well, I’m a jack of all trades and master of none”, as though that were something to be proud of. That’s like saying you don’t always wash your hands after using the toilet, but you usually get your underwear back up over your shins before you leave the bathroom. Great.

And so the struggle continues. I go to CrossFit most days, have what looks to be multiple seizures as I struggle through the workouts, and there have been some small gains. I’ve learned how to badger Thunderchicken without him turning on me and crushing me like a grape. I’ve learned how to properly lift for the first time in my life, even if it involves using PVC pipe instead of weighted bars. I run (let’s be honest here, I jog) up to 2 miles for different workouts, and have yet to have a major stroke – plus my two mile time is under 45 minutes, so there’s that. Best of all for the first time in many years, I’m not completely embarrassed to look in the mirror. I should be, but I’m not.

You probably won’t catch me in a trash-talking CrossFit tee shirt just yet, though.

I should probably be able to do more than two pullups first.