What is a CrossFitter?

What is a CrossFitter?

Lisbeth has a way with words. She writes out of personal experience through the pain and struggle that we all know as CrossFit. She digs deep into the question: What really makes a CrossFitter? Is it the fancy clothing you see people wearing? Is it the 2o millions pullups they can do in a row? To be honest it has nothing to do with that. That’s why I’m so proud of how you guys represent CFN and the community at large.

We constantly talk about “hard work” being the defining variable to judge yourself. It’s not who finishes first that WE applaud. It’s those that give the upmost effort that we admire dearly!

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What is A CrossFitter?

 

By: CF Lisbeth

I don’t own wristwraps. Or socks with sayings on them. Or any compression gear. I have no tattoos and I’ve never puked from a workout.

Some people might look at me and think I’m not a CrossFitter.

I’ve finished first in a WOD only a handful of times – well, other than when I work out alone. (Then, I ROCK that shit. First place all the time, baby!)

Some people might think I’m not a “real” CrossFitter.

I don’t obsess about who lifts the most or who can do the most muscle-ups or who can walk on their hands. But I care a whole lot about who has a big heart, who cheers the others on, and who brings the coach a coffee when she knows he’s having a bad day.

I go as hard as I can, for me, every single day. If we’re not front squatting or overhead squatting, though, I’m working a goat. I have many, many goats. I have so many goats, it’s like a f-ing herd. I should have a staff and a horn. (goats are things that we suck at)

Today’s results may not be as good as yesterday’s, but they might be better than tomorrow’s. I really can’t predict anything. Sometimes I surprise myself with how strong I am, and sometimes I disappoint myself with how weak I am. Some mornings, my body just can’t handle too many pull-ups, and I have to resort to ring rows. But my effort never flags. It’s always there. I’m here to give, and give some more — and when I don’t think I can keep going, somehow I do. My head and my heart don’t know how to quit. My pedal is not just to the metal but I’m redlining the shit out of this puppy, even if I’m at the back of the pack. If the wheels don’t come off and I don’t crash, it’s going to be a hell of a day.

Oh yeah. I really am a CrossFitter.