I am such a hypocrite.
About a month ago I started doing something that I had sworn on everything holy that I would never, ever do — I joined a CrossFit gym.
For years, every time I saw a Facebook status about someone crushing their Rx on Fran or an Instagram picture of their sweaty bodies sprawled on the floor after completing a brutal AMRAP, I rolled my eyes so hard that I feared that they would fall out of my head.
Despite my annoyed and too-cool-for school attitude, I couldn’t deny that a lot of the people that I was yelling at through the computer screen looked amazing. Not only were their bodies strong and healthy looking, but so many of them looked so dang happy even after putting themselves through some kind of hellish workout.
Yet, I would just keep reminding myself that they were all hopped up the CrossFit Cult Kool-Aid.
I considered myself to lead a fairly healthy lifestyle. I walk dogs for a few hours a day, I love to take spin classes, I even ran a marathon a few years ago.
Nonetheless, the pounds were creeping up at a steady pace. I was certain that was because something was wrong with my metabolism/thyroid and certainly not because I was eating and drinking like a complete a**hole.
I was so certain that I had a grave medical condition that I had my doctor run tests. They confirmed that I did indeed eat and drink like a complete a**hole.
Basically, I was told: you’re at an age where you can’t out-cardio your diet. You really have to start watching what you eat and you should consider some weightlifting.
I have been vehemently opposed to watching what I eat most of my life because food is often the bedrock in times of celebration and consolation. And, because, fried chicken.
Also, weightlifting? That’ll be a hard pass. For one, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and two, weights are heavy and hard and I am clumsy.
However, as summer came to a close and my shorts didn’t, I had to take a hard look at myself and figure out if I was going to do something other than rail against the unfairness of no longer having the metabolism that I did when I was 25.
So, I did what any old school nerd does and I started researching. I researched all the hot Charlotte gyms. I knew that I needed a place where I would feel comfortable. I knew that I needed a place that seemed interested in more than taking my money. I knew that for me to stick with something I needed to not only feel accountability but a sense of community.
That’s when all of those Kool-Aid drinking CrossFitters started creeping back into my mind. Perhaps they were onto something. And, perhaps it was possible to do CrossFit without peppering my Facebook statuses with a bunch of nonsensical anagrams.
I Googled CrossFit gyms that were close to my house and landed on CrossFit Jane – mainly because I had seen it when I was heading into D.D. Peckers for wings and beer.
However, after reading their origin story (and seeing they had set up a Little Free Library), I knew that this was the place that I was going to try out. I was taken with the vulnerability and transparency when they wrote about starting the CrossFit Jane as a way to heal and grow after co-founder Brent Smith’s mother, Jane Smith, was killed in a car wreck.
“CrossFit Jane started from grief, but it’s that sense of vulnerability that attracts so many of our members,” said co-owner Jaime Pollard-Smith. “What you get from us may not always be pretty, but it will be genuine, authentic and real. We want the hour that you spend with us to be the best hour of your day.”
I’ll own my hypocrisy and I’ll admit that I was wrong. I have never felt more supported and encouraged in a gym atmosphere than I do at CrossFit Jane.
So, pass the Kool-Aid. No, actually pass the water. I’m going to need it.
Photos: CrossFit Jane