Failing Forward

I used to have what I thought were great days at the gym... days I would hit heavy lifts with ease and destroy my workouts. I took pride at being at the top of the leader board and if I wasn't, I was disappointed in my performance. Failing to "win" led to a shitty day accompanied by a shitty attitude until I could get after it again.


Luckily, I stopped being a douche. Eventually I realized I'm not the best, nor will I ever be. But that doesn't mean I can't be MY best, and as long as I was giving it the best I could, I could live with whatever place I received. In the words of a wise man, "Some days you're a workhorse, some days you're a racehorse, and some days you get sent to the glue factory... it's all part of the process."


Today I caught a glimpse of my old self.


A younger kid at my gym named Adam struggled through every workout we had today. He ran slow, he kept taking breathers, he even tried to quit. If not for his coaches and fellow members, I'm pretty convinced he would have walked straight out of the gym to his car and drove home. It hurt to watch because I remember being in his shoes as a kid. When I was younger I was overweight. Not obese by any standards and nobody thought I was a fat kid, but I definitely wasn't in shape. I had asthma growing up and remember getting down on myself at times because I simply couldn't keep up with the other kids.


I convinced myself that I was stuck with what I had, that I was an out of shape kid who had a medical problem. That led to me dogging it on runs, which eventually led to me skipping out on runs all together. What I failed to realize was that wasn't who I was, that was simply my present state. I used my medical condition as a crutch, in turn allowing me to think my weight problem was a perfectly acceptable bi-product.


We tend to shy away from personal responsibility not only because we must face the demons that lie ahead of us but because we also catch a glimpse of our potential... which tends to scare the living shit out of us. Adam could be faster, more lean, more muscular... but the real question is, is he willing to put in the work to achieve those results? That question can be applied to all of us, even those we tend to idolize. The road to glory scares us because we know it's lined with bumps, twists and turns and often has no clear line of sight to the finish. That's right, even those we hold on pedestals are still discovering their potential.


Work ethic outweighs far more than we realize. Genetics will always play a large factor, no doubt... but burying your head and driving forward is what separates the men from the boys.


The mountain of success is steep, stormy and intimidating... but it can be summited. There will be doubters along the way who will attack you from all angles. They will say you're working yourself to death, they'll say you need a social life. They'll offer you cookies and complain that it's "just one" when you refuse to budge.


Your goals may seem confusing to others, sometimes they will think they're silly, but more often than not they will become jealous of your drive. We've become a generation of individuals who lack dedication and the sight of someone honed in on a goal is intimidating to most. Your only safety net is to surround yourself with like-minded climbers... people who understand your desires, people who are dedicated to helping you succeed.


There were days I'd wake up at 5am before school to run sprints and mile repeats. There were nights I'd have my legs lined with ice packs taped to my legs. There were times I'd skip friends' birthday celebrations because I couldn't afford to break away from my diet. But there were also days I hit numbers I'd been chasing for years, nights I watched people keep working past the cut-off time because they wanted to finish, times I watched people shut off their mental-midgetness and be fucking awesome.


Many of my goals still seem far away, but I know I'm on the right path. And even when I think I'm close, I'll remember the road has only just begun. I have faith in Adam, there's no way I'd be doing what he is when I was in his place. And honestly, I look forward to seeing him struggle more, because I know how strong he's become... and I know he'll come back for more.

Today's Arena

We are taught to hide our emotions, dismiss our feelings of weakness... to only display strength and to accept nothing but perfection. But some of the most awe inspiring moments in life are the beautiful disasters. Sometimes, it's alluring to watch a person suffer and fail.

In a few days athletes from across the world will push their bodies to the breaking point. They will sweat, they will cry, they will bleed, and they will break... but they will keep going. They will continue forward because for them, suffering is the only way to truly live. In a modern day world that prides itself on finding shortcuts, some individuals have decided to take the scenic route, no matter the hazards that may present themselves along the way.

An obsession can be found in our fascination with the warriors of yesteryear, with our tribal ancestors who survived (and thrived) in the harshest of climates. Perhaps that is why so many become addicted to the CrossFit culture and it's bare essentials design in training. Something strikes a chord inside an individual as they gasp for air in the middle of their workout, sweat dripping from their brow as they look at their calloused covered hands. They realize that the barbell has become their weapon, an instrument that is both their source of pleasure and their source of pain.

And that is what makes these competitions so special, because one man's barbell has seen the same battles as the next. Because as I sit in the crowd cheering on some of the world's most elite athletes, I know their suffering... I've gone to those same dark places in my mind. Because the 60 year old grandma at your gym can relate to the same pain of still having one more round to go as Lindsey Valenzuela will. Because not finishing in the time cap or perform a movement efficiently leaves the same rotten taste in my mouth that it does to Rich Froning. And although you will never meet everyone in our community, you have forged an unspoken bond through our shared suffering.

We are not ticket purchasers paying for a cockfight... laughing, jeering and screaming for blood. We are fellow gladiators cheering on our brethren, we are there to witness beauty unfold. And although acts of victory will be highlighted, those that fail but resist to fold their cards are just as awe-inspiring. The sounds of weights crashing consume us... they pull us in like the songs of the Sirens. At a moment's notice, we would switch places with those competing, albeit the pain we are fully aware that lies ahead for them. But the rosters are set and the majority of us must remain in the stands for now. So until our next shot at glory let us revel at today's gladiators as they win, as they lose, but most importantly, as they never give up.