Reader, Thinker, Writer, Lover.

Let’s be real: I was never going to go to the Crossfit Games. I was a sliding-into-her-40s stay-at-home mom who was looking for something to help keep the weight off. It’s not Crossfit’s fault that I fell head over heels in love with something I could never be good at. It’s not Crossfit’s fault that I got serious about something I should have taken lightly, or pushed myself past what my body wanted, or hated myself for not being able to master double-unders.


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Yesterday, I showed up for a workout that included 110 box jumps and 110 kettlebell snatches.

I mentioned to my coach, Lauren that I was “probably just going to do step-ups instead of jumps.”

Lauren asked, “Why?” When I told her my excuses (tired, out of shape, blah blah), she sort-of snorted and said, “Um, NO. You’re doing the box jumps.”

If it were up to me to motivate myself at the gym,

  1. I would probably be at home drinking wine and reading a book instead
  2. I would come up with a million excuses to avoid hard work
  3. I would underestimate my own abilities and settle for a lot less than I was capable of doing

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