Open for Business

This may come as a surprise to people who don't know me well... but I am really competitive.

Like, really competitive.

I love to win.  I hate to lose.  When I was horseback riding competitively, I used to actually make myself sick before important horse shows because I wanted to win so badly that I wouldn't sleep for days.  The first time I qualified for the Washington International, I could barely eat for the week leading up to my class.  I think it was a brutal combination of performance anxiety and just plain wanting it too badly.  Fortunately for me, my horse War Paint was (and is) absolutely amazing.  He was like my second half; the more nervous I was, the more steady he became.  He allowed my anxiety and adrenaline to help boost me to new levels of performance.  We were an awesome team, and I have a closet full of trophies and blue ribbons to show for it.  For awhile there, I got pretty used to winning.  And nothing made me happier.  Some of my favorite memories are leading victory gallops with an enormous smile on my face, feeling completely unstoppable and on top of the world.  There was nothing I loved more than being the best.

Unfortunately, my competitive nature has also worked against me in a lot of ways.  I tend to not try new things if I don't think I will be successful.  I've spent a lot of time in the mindset that, if you can't be the best at something, there's no point in doing it at all.  I think that's why it took me so long to come around to trying CrossFit... I knew I wouldn't be great at it, or probably even remotely good at it.  And at the box, there would be no partner to lean on... it would be just me in there.  Scary.  I was concerned that, if I jumped into this new world, I would find myself in constant competition with people who were stronger, faster, and just plain better than me... and few things in the world discouraged me more than being the worst at something.  I was afraid that, if I couldn't hold my own, I would let my competitive nature get the best of me and give up.

Then I started to learn what CrossFit was really about, and it changed everything for me.  At the beginning, I was constantly discouraged:  I always finished last, used the least weight, squeezed in the fewest reps.  Everyone was better than I was.  But the more time I spent at the box, the more I realized: it's not about being the fastest or the strongest.  It's about pushing yourself to new limits, accomplishing things you never thought you were capable of, and discovering the inner strength you never knew you had.  At the box, there are no winners or losers.  Everyone has strengths and weaknesses, good days and bad days.  And while we all feed off of each other's energy and push each other to work harder, there is no competition.  The only person I'm trying to beat once that timer starts, is the person I was the day before.  It's not about being better than everyone else.  It's about being better than I was yesterday.

That realization has been life-changing for me.  I'm learning that winning isn't nearly as important as improving, and that not all victories can be measured in trophies or prize money.  Every tough WOD I finish, every new skill I learn, and every PR I reach, no matter how small, is a victory in it's own right.  And I learned that, without the pressure to be the best, I'm able to be my best. 

With horseback riding, I was constantly training for something: a big horse show, moving up a division, preparing a new mount for competition.  There was always a concrete goal in sight: qualify for year end finals.  Earn circuit championship in Ocala.  Win the classic.  I loved the structure of setting a goal, working towards it, and accomplishing it.  But lately, I'm learning that sometimes, when you focus too much on the destination, you lose sight of the journey.  (Cliche, but true.)  CrossFit is so very different.  Yes, I have goals: learn cleans.  Figure out double unders.  250lb dead lift.  Get my damn pull ups.  But there isn't a time cap or an expiration date on these goals, and they certainly aren't my only focus.  In general, at the box, I'm not training for something... I'm training to be something.  Or, rather, someone.  I'm training to be the person I've always wanted to be but never thought I could.  I'm training to be a strong, confident, happy woman.  And somehow, these days, that seems like more than enough.

Almost six months into my CrossFitting journey, I'm so much closer to being that person than I ever thought possible.  I've made so much progress towards letting go of my need to be the best... because, let's face it, I'll never be the best CrossFitter.  Hell, I'll probably never even be a good CrossFitter.  But I'm getting better every day, and in letting go of some of that competitive drive, I find myself more driven than ever to succeed.  And, more importantly, I've found that "winning" and "success" aren't always the same thing.  I've succeeded in so many ways this year, and I don't need blue ribbons or trophies to know that.

That being said... the prospect of incorporating competition into CrossFit makes me nervous. I was so, so inspired when I went to watch some of my box mates compete at the Fall Brawl a few months ago; the camaraderie, drive, and courage I saw in those people was absolutely awe-inspiring, and a part of me desperately wants to experience that competitive rush again.  But another part of me fears that, by pitting myself against other athletes instead of just against myself, I will ruin everything that I love so much about this sport.  CrossFit makes me feel good about myself, regardless of how much weight I can overhead squat or how many burpees I can do in seven minutes.  If I start measuring myself against other people, will I change all of that?  Will I go back to being discouraged instead of inspired?

So when people at the box started talking about the CrossFit Open, I didn't give it much thought.

For those of you who don't know, the CrossFit Open is five rounds of WODs performed over five weeks by athletes all over the world, to be judged at a CrossFit affiliate or by video.  Each week, the WOD is posted online on Wednesday evening, and athletes have until Sunday to perform the WOD and submit their scores.  Scores are then posted online each week to allow competitors to see how they measure up to other athletes worldwide.  The athletes and teams from each region with the top combined scores in the Open qualify for Regionals.  The winners at Regionals go on to compete in the CrossFit Games, with a shot at earning the title of World's Fittest Man or Woman.  If you've never watched the Games on TV, I highly suggest that you do so.  The things those people do are absolutely, positively incredible, and it is awe-inspiring to watch them compete.

Needless to say, it's some pretty hardcore stuff.  So obviously, when people asked me if I would be entering the Open, I just laughed them off.  I don't have double unders, an unassisted pull up, or anything even slightly resembling a hand stand push up.  I probably wouldn't be able to make it through a single one of the Open WODs with any level of success.  And why bother to compete if I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there's no way I will come close to advancing to Regionals?  I might have the drive, but the strength and skill just aren't there.  Maybe someday they will be, but not right now.  I don't need to see my name at the bottom of the online standings to know that I'm slow and not very strong... I know that already, and confirming it would just bum me out.  Is it worth it to risk ruining everything I love about CrossFit when nothing positive could possibly come out of it?  Not so much.

As talk at the box turned to the Open and people started to register, several people asked me if I was planning to enter.  I told everyone the same thing: maybe next year, when I have a pull up/HSPU/double unders/whatever my reason was on that particular day at that particular moment.  I had so many reasons; there is a lengthy list of things that I just can't do.  The more people asked me, the more reasons I came up with as to why I shouldn't register for the Open.

And then it occurred to me: I might be the world's biggest hypocrite, because I wasn't coming up with reasons... I was coming up with excuses.

No, I don't have a pull up.  No, I can't string together double unders.  No, I can't keep up with the people at my box, much less with the best athletes from all over the world.  But when did I become the kind of person who lets her life be dictated by the things she can't do?  Wasn't the whole point of this journey to turn my "cant's" into "cans" and my dreams into plans?  Why should this be any different?

I could come up with all of the excuses in the world not to compete.  But when it comes down to it, there's really only one thing standing between me and the Open: my old friend fear.  I'm scared.  I'm scared that I won't be able to complete the WODs.  I'm scared of submitting my scores and being at the bottom of the standings.  I'm scared of the entire world having access to those standings and being able to see how I measure up.  I'm scared that I won't measure up.  I'm scared of what will happen when I stop comparing myself to who I used to be and start comparing myself to everyone else.

In short, I'm afraid to fail.

I've talked a big game on this blog about facing and overcoming my fears.  I've pretty successfully squared off against many of those fears: fear of distance running, fear of trying new things, fear of making a fool out of myself, fear of sucking at CrossFit, fear of CrossFit itself... I've done so many things that scared me over the past year.  But clearly, my fear of failure is still alive and well.  The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that just about all of my fears stem from the fact that I am desperately afraid to fail.  If I can't face that fear, what's the point of any of this?  I can lose all the weight in the world, jump out of as many airplanes as I want, and can write a million blog posts about conquering my fears.  But as long as I'm still letting the fear of failure dictate my life, I haven't really accomplished anything at all, have I?

The truth is, the idea of signing up for the Open scares the shit out of me... more than anything has scared me in a long time.  More than the half marathon, more than the Tough Mudder, and more than all of my other fears combined.  I don't know why it scares me so much... perhaps because the likelihood of failure is so high.  With most of the things I've taken on this year, I have gone in knowing that I am physically capable of finishing.  Even if I suck, even if I have to walk most of my half marathon, even if I can't keep up with my Tough Mudder team and end up crossing the finish line alone, I at least know that I will cross that finish line.  The Open is different.  There will definitely be things in those WODs at which I suck... that's a given.  But there might also be things that I simply can't do.  There is no scaling or modifying.  There are no pull up bands.  There is no letting form slip just to get through, because there will be a judge there to no-rep me if I do.  There is a good chance that I will, in fact, fail one of more of the WODs.  And when I do, my name will be there for all the world to see, at the bottom of the online leaderboard with a big fat "DNF" next to it.

So many things could go wrong.  I could confirm my suspicion that I am, in fact, the world's slowest CrossFitter.  I could be unable to handle the prescribed weight.  I could be massively overfaced and under prepared.  In short, I could fail.  In fact, I probably will fail.  And that scares me.

Which is exactly why I'm going to do it.

I'm going to do it.  At least, I'm going to give it my best shot.  I might suck.  I might not be able to handle it.  I might fail.  But how will I ever know if I don't try?

I've accomplished a lot in the last year.  But for the progress to continue, I need to make sure I don't become complacent.  I can't be content to just keep being better than I used to be... I want to be good.  I don't want to be stronger than I was when I was fat.  I want to be strong, period.  I don't want to be more athletic than I used to be; I want to be an athlete.  Because I'm not that fat, out-of-shape newbie anymore, and I need to stop thinking like one.  If I'm going to be an athlete, I need to know where I stand among other athletes.  Tammy put it best: you never know where you're going unless you know where you've been.  I think I need to know where I stand before I can truly know which way I need to go.

Maybe this is exactly what I need to push myself to the next level.  The Open starts in 30 days.  I have 30 days to work on all of the things I can't do.  Is it likely that I will be able to master my cleans, string together DU's, get a hand stand push up, and ditch the bands altogether for my pull ups, all in the next 30 days?  No.  I don't think that's a terribly realistic expectation.  But if I wait until I have all of those things, I could be waiting forever.  And I'm tired of waiting.  What my life needs is a little less waiting and a lot more DOING.

So, friends, that is how a former fatty without a pull up is entered to compete against the world's fittest men and women.  This has the potential to be an epic disaster.  Will I fail?  Quite possibly.  Will I embarrass myself?  Almost definitely.  Do I have a shot in hell of advancing to Regionals?  Of course not.  Am I going to let that stop me?

Not this time.

The worst that can happen is that I can't complete the WODs.  If that happens, at least I'll know what I need to work on for next year.  I have nothing to lose... but so, so much to gain.  Confidence.  Pride.  A sense of accomplishment.  Who knows?  Maybe I'll surprise myself and do well.  Or maybe I really am the world's slowest CrossFitter.  But I'll never know if I don't try.  Either way, it will be an honor to share this experience with the amazing people at CrossFit TPA, and I know they will be there to support me no matter what happens.

With that reassuring thought driving me forward, I'm embarking on this next leg of my journey with an open mind and a hopeful heart.  I'm still terrified.  But I'm also excited to see what this experience will hold for me.  It's time to get to work.  In 30 days, the first Open WOD will be posted.  30 days until I make my debut as a competitive CrossFitter.  30 days to get my pull up or die trying.  30 days left to be scared shitless.

3... 2... 1... GO!