CrossFit Games
Every summer, I watch the CrossFit Games. I’ve been watching since the mid‑2010s, long enough that it feels like part of my life. And every year, something in me wakes up. Something that remembers how much I love the idea of being strong. Something that makes me think, maybe I could try CrossFit again.
The Games make strength look powerful and human. I see people pushing through moments that look impossible, and I feel that pull in my chest. I want to feel capable. I want to feel proud of what my body can do. I want to feel connected to myself in a way that only effort can give.
I’ve taken a few CrossFit classes. I know what it feels like to walk in and immediately be the slowest person in the room. Not just a little slow. Last. By a lot. Anything cardio…the bike, burpees, running… I fall behind so fast it feels like the workout leaves without me. Everyone else finishes. I’m still working. And even though no one has ever made me feel judged, I feel it anyway. That heaviness. That embarrassment. That quiet voice that says you don’t belong here.
It hurts. It makes me hesitate. It makes me wonder if I should even try.
But then there’s the barbell. The barbell feels like the part of CrossFit that actually fits me. It feels steady. It feels honest. It feels like something I could grow into without feeling like I’m failing. I love the idea of being strong. I love the way lifting asks for focus instead of speed. I love that strength builds slowly, in real, measurable ways. I love that it doesn’t matter if I’m last, because strength isn’t a race.
Watching the Games reminds me of that part of myself. The part that wants to feel capable without needing to be fast. The part that wants to show up without needing to win. The part that wants to build something real inside my body.
Maybe CrossFit doesn’t have to be everything for me. Maybe it can just be the part that feels right. Maybe it can be the barbell. Maybe it can be strength.
And honestly, it’s funny to be saying all this on the first day I walked without crutches in Betty Boot. Maybe I should master the driveway before I start dreaming about snatches.