A CROSSFIT POEM

HERE`S A FUNNY, BUT “SO TRUE” POEM THAT BAKE-DOGG CAME ACROSS FROM ONE OF OUR FELLOW BOXES. ENJOY!

My fear begins from afar.

I dread the WOD while in my car

Upon the turn into Reeds Lane

I gleefully anticipate the forthcoming pain

As I arrive, I always hope

That I don’t have to climb, up on the rope

With gear in tow

I hope to park, in the front row

But some of the stalls get me perturbed

Cause I reverse off of the curb

Don’t want to be late, I better hurry

Cause Courtney said they might make us do burpees

I hustle in, just in time

Determined to, make this WOD mine

I better check in, it is the law

So I must stop, at the shark’s jaw.

As I pass through, I talk lulu with Michelle Chun.

Discussing the retail damage I’ve recently done.

I give a “Wassup” to the lads manning the front.

Often returned with a “Hey”, fist pound, or a grunt.

I throw my bag loudly on to the ground.

Well it should, it weighs 30 pounds

Full of grips, jump ropes, and Oly shoes.

Plus everything else, a CrossFitter could possibly use.

My first stop is at the board

As I quietly pray to the sweet Lord.

There it is, my daily quest

As long as I do my personal best?

Actually, not true, I hate defeat.

I also check, the times to beat.

I look around, who here is my competition.

Topping them will be my personal mission.

Ok, the coach has started to call

To go over announcements, the WOD, the warm-up, and all.

Whether it be Court, Dirty, or Maria “No Rep” Roselle

Guaranteed to put us through Physical Hell.

Chatter of Paleo, sore muscles, and weekend plans comes to an end

After the WOD we can go back to being friends.

A warm-up commences before the carnage begins

To WOD without warm-up is near a sin

There’s laps to be jogged, worms to be inched,

Just cause it’s warm-up, doesn’t mean it’s a cinch.

We master the movements with PVC pipe

Go through motions before all the hype.

We load up our bars to SD,AV, or RX’d

Chalk up our hands awaiting what’s next

Nervous jitters, make me go pee

Sometimes not once, two, maybe three

The music is turned to a WOD-worthy roar

Easily heard from outside the front door

I savor each moment, for how I know

My world drastically changes post 3-2-1 Go!

From that very second, everything else washes away

It doesn’t matter if I had a bad day

My heart starts to pound, the sweat starts to pour

But all that I notice is how many reps I have more

The universe around me fails to exist

Just me and the WOD, and the need to persist

If I can succeed this physical feat

Nothing in life can have me beat

So to the end, it’s a fight to the finish

Not even a second I want to relinquish

Although I may not always be at my prime

The best part of my day is when I call “Time!”

Gasping for breath, I flail all over the mat

Like a fish pulled out of its bowl by a cat

Each of our battles comes to an end.

One by one we recover, as if back from the dead.

To the white board we go, to post our stats

As soon as we can pull ourselves up off the mat

Away go our weapons of destruction from hell

Every bar, med. ball, or kettlebell.

Now that the deed has gotten done

We can go back to having fun

Scope out the tee’s, new on the rack

Or try out MOB WOD to stretch out the back

Maybe B.P. will do some weird trick while inverted

Prompting pics on F.B., with comments perverted

The next class nervously squirms, on the benches they sit

Hesistant to ask “So… How was it?”

I give thanks that I had an hour on the clock 

To get my WOD on, at the CFO Box

But if I don’t come, cause I was writing this poem.

At least Sam will post, the WOD from his IPhone.