The Writers Block

In a previous post (“Crossfit: the danger zone part 2″) I offered up the assertion that CrossFit is not about “exercise”, it’s about managing fitness.  When I got to thinking about it, I had to admit that had someone asked me then and there what I meant, I would have had a hard time explaining it.  Well that won’t do.

That blog post was part of another thread that started with a young man named Anthony Dream Johnson.  Johnson doesn’t like CrossFit, and I responded to some of his comments in a blog post of my own (“Crossfit: the danger zone.”) Johnson’s point was that CrossFit is not worth the risk because there are safer alternatives. He sites back squats in particular as being really unsafe (“Barbell Squat: the Worst Exercise in Existence?.”)  So does Michael Allen Smith (see “I No Longer Give a Squat About The Squat.”)  I don’t know nearly enough about physiology to make an educated comment about the dangers of back squats.

But here’s the thing I think Johnson (and perhaps Smith) misses: CrossFit is not about exercises, it’s about a core concept of managing fitness that has three ideas: functional movement, high intensity, and constant variation.  Which means any set of physical routines that meets those three criteria is acceptable.  That’s why you see physical movements from gymnastics, weight lifting, running, rowing, cycling, kettlebells, yoga or whatever in the warm-ups and WODs. CrossFit is therefore 100% pragmatic, so if there are safer methods, they will end up as part of the core set of CrossFit WODs.

If there is a point to be made that the back squat is not worth the risk, or any other exercise is not worth the risk, so be it.  Once that point is proved, CrossFitters will move on to the next best alternatives.  And that open-minded and open-ended approach is what makes CrossFit all about managing fitness, and not about a devotion to a particular exercise.

Cheers.

The other day I posted some comments about the dangers of CrossFit.  This was in response to a blog posting by Anthony Johnson called “CrossFit™ : A 100% Chance of Injury?” posted last week.  Essentially I agree with the assessment that CrossFit is dangerous.  Which is to say it requires careful risk management.  Risk management or not, for Johnson CrossFit is a losing proposition because there are safer ways to get the same results.  And I agree with him that “danger” and “exercise” are, or ought to be, mutually exclusive.  If your exercises are dangerous, they are something other then “exercise.”

Now as an aside I want to mention that Johnson also talks about “self-actualization,” which I find to be a strange concept.  I’m not at all sure that there is a “self” to be actualized.  I think there is a sum total of personal experiences, and an ego that creates a personal narrative, and that’s what “self” is.  I confess I haven’t bothered to do any research on the topic (aside from seeing the term used in the 70s), nor do I know what Johnson means when he uses the term.  But I get the distinct impression he means something very, very focused on an individual-istic approach.  Let’s call it the “I” factor, or “me” factor.  Knowing this about Johnson isn’t terribly relevant to risk-management in CrossFit or any other physical fitness approach, but I do think it’s relevant to what makes CrossFit different from other approaches to fitness.

CrossFit is about fitness, of that I have no doubt.   The physical demands are rigorous, there is a strictly adhered to discipline about what makes a real CrossFit workout (functional movement, intensity, constant variation) and a metric (work done over time.) Is CrossFit exercise? No.  I knew that from the start.  It’s a way of managing fitness goals.  It’s more like a sport then exercise.  Is it actually a sport? I don’t know, I can’t say that I care.

Johnson read my post, and offered up the opinion that what separated our opinions is that I seem to be skeptical about being able to get the same benefits as CrossFit but using other, safer, methods.

But that’s not exactly the difference.  The real difference is, when the truth is told, my “self-actualization” includes the desire to master fear.  If there are safer methods, great, I’ll explore those.  My guess is that soon enough those methods will be adopted by CrossFitters.  That is if those methods are consistent with: functional movement, intensity, and constant variation.

The other thing that’s important to realize about CrossFit is the community aspect.  It happens within a small group of peers.  Individual success becomes celebrated as group success.  People are encouraged to achieve — in the safest way possible within the domain of CrossFit methods — their personal best.  All the time.  In that regard CrossFit is an attitude, not just a set of WODs.

But that’s CrossFit, and that’s my attitude. Other people read Johnson’s post and agreed completely, some bashed him, most didn’t offer up anything that had to do with the actual point Johnson was making: exercise is about finding the safest, most practical way to manage fitness goals.

Fine.  I want the fear.  I want the adrenaline rush.  I want to be Cornell Wilde in The Naked Prey. OK, not really, but I would like to be able to run a 7 minute mile, do 100 burpees, run another mile in 7 minutes and have a beer to relax while comparing notes with the other people who just got done doing the same routine.

Cheers.

The thing about CrossFit that I really enjoy is that it’s possible to feel 100% grounded during the workout.  By that I mean totally focused on what is going on.  I typically start a WOD by thinking “globally” — what the movements are, the sequence, how long the workout lasts, how I’m going to manage it, and so on.  And for a few moments into the workout I might have that global focus.

But after a minute or so I start to get absorbed in the actual performance.  And by that I mean I go from thinking “OK another 200 meters” to “OK that’s a 100 meters” to “OK just get one foot in front of the other” to “don’t stop” and finally a state of non-verbalization.  At that point it takes all the willpower I have to make one more motion.  Time seems to stand still.  Of course time isn’t standing still, it’s my perception of what’s going on that is shifted.

The other day we did a WOD using kettlebells — goblet squat, swings, lunges followed by a 200 meter run.  It was hot outside, about 95 degrees or so.  We had three rounds of 5 minutes with a 1 minute rest between rounds.  The sets were 4 squats, 5 swings, 6 lunges and then run.  I choose 35#.  The idea was to get as many sets completed in the 15 minutes of activity.

I don’t know what the Rx was, I didn’t look. I didn’t have any particular end goal for sets completed.  I just figured I’d give it my best shot.

At the end of the second round (10 minutes into the workout) I was on fire.   I remember leaning up against a set of truck tires, and pulling back because the tires were too hot.  I stood a moment in the shade, but that didn’t help either.  I tried to get “small” by leaning forward a bit and resting on my thighs.  My world was reduced down to just about nothing. But not “nothing” really — more like an elevated state of awareness.  Let’s call it “focus.”

Many years ago (decades actually) I had a job doing hot-tar roofing.  The thing about hot tar is that it has to be about 475 degrees F to be able to apply it.  The application is done by mopping it on, so it has to flow easily.  Anyway one day I was in charge of the kettle, which is a huge square cauldron that we towed behind a stake truck.  The heat came from huge roaring propane burners.  Now the trick to hot tar is to keep it about 475 F, but less then 500 F.  Because if you let it get over 500 it catches on fire.  And that fire cannot be put out easily. It’s very dangerous.

Well I wanted to keep the hot tar hot, and it got to about 525 F and caught fire.  I turned the flame off, closed the lid to cut off the oxygen, but that didn’t help: every time I opened the lid to check on it the flames would shoot out.  The whole crew came down to watch.  And I’m thinking “Wow! This thing is out of control! It’s going to blow!” which it didn’t, but it was, for a moment, really scary.  One thing I can tell you: I was really, really focused.

That’s the feeling I had after the second round of that WOD.  I felt like I was that hot tar kettle, my body on fire getting ready to explode.  I was thinking what’s the next level from here?  Do I just faint?  No, I just keep going.  It’s an odd feeling, like I’m out of the body and totally in it at the same time.  Is that some kind of elevated state?  I don’t know.

The third round was slow.  By the time I got to the run I was shuffling along.  Eventually I got up to slow jog, and then finally for the last few meters something that someone might call “running.”

Total number of rounds: 6 1/2.  I didn’t get a final set of lunges or a run.  I was covered in sweat.  I wouldn’t say it was brutal, but it was really, really tough.  6 1/2 doesn’t seem like much.  But it was, on that day, all I had in me to do.

Cheers.

The other day I was reading the CFES blog and noticed someone posted a blog post from another site called “CrossFit™ : A 100% Chance of Injury?”  The author is a young man named Anthony Johnson.  I don’t know him, nor had never visited his blog before.  Here is what he has to say:

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately that crossfit™ might actually have a 100% chance of injury when practiced over a lifetime.”

First, let me say I think he is correct: all CrossFit activity will eventually result in an injury.  Crossfit is dangerous.  Once you introduce a time domain in a competitive atmosphere you’re in the danger zone.  Just like any other sport.  I should also say as an aside there is a subtle nuance to the phrase “competitive atmosphere” — at CFES  it’s more about achieving individual peak performance, and everybody respects and supports everybody else’s achievements.  I’ve written about this before (“Crossfit and the Nature of competition: a Few Notes and Comments“.)  When your goal is get beyond your current limitations there are bound to be risks.

In any case Johnson’s main point was that the ideal of peak performance is OK, but risk has to be managed.  He thinks CrossFit is too dangerous.  Johnson doesn’t think CrossFit is safe under an circumstances, doesn’t like barbell squats, doesn’t think CrossFit gyms are competently run, and finds the practice of CrossFit to be irrational and stupid.

“Well first you need to fully grasp that it is fundamentally unsafe, and if practiced as an exercise program, will result in an unknown injury, perhaps multiple times over, perhaps permanent, and perhaps 10 years after you quit CrossFit™.”

“…Secondly, you need to realize that fundamentally, CrossFit™ is not (actually) exercise in the first place. It’s a hybrid between a recreational and competitive activity with a random array of exercise side effects. Furthermore, many of these (random if not arbitrary) physical movements, fit quite well into the public conception of the concept of exercise.”

As it so happens I have several friends who were cyclists, runners, basketball players, skiers etc. who have sustained broken collarbones, hips, wrists, legs, concussions, injured backs and necks.  But I agree the best course is to manage risks.  That requires discipline, patience, forbearance, and a certain amount of humility.

My understanding, from reading various comments and discussions about the history of CrossFit is that it was designed for people in disaster response professions: policemen, firemen, paramedics, SWAT teams, soldiers or other para-military professions.

At the heart of Crossfit is one huge demand: intensity with a time constraint.  It is meant to be brutal and demanding.  Yes you can and should scale it — but you don’t reduce the intensity.  That alone should be a warning about the nature of CrossFit.

I suspect Johnson would say I’ve missed the point, which is that there are ways to achieve the same results without the risks that CrossFit poses.  Well I’ll keep an open mind.

In the meantime I admit I like the challenge, the fear, the adrenaline rush.  I like the “random and arbitrary” nature of the workouts.  I like beating the odds just one more time.

Cheers.

Last April the CFES box did the Hope workout.  3 rounds of burpees, power snatches, box jumps, thrusters, and chest-to-bar pullups.  No rest between stations, 1 minute between rounds.  So five minutes on, 1 minute rest, five minutes on, 1 minute rest, and a final round. The bars were 75# and the box was 24 inches. My total was 115, which I felt was less then what I was capable of.

Last week (June 9th) we did the Hope WOD for real.  We had about 100 people from various boxes participating.  My plan was to get 50 reps per round: 15 burpees, 15 box jumps, 5 snatches, 5 thrusters, 10 chest-to-bar pullups.  But I actually didn’t have a real plan — which is to say a detailed means of execution — I just had a “goal.” That was problem number one.

Problem number two was that I was obsessed with multiple shoulder injuries.  My shoulders felt like somebody had hit them with a sledgehammer.  So I was (and still am) really afraid of a permanent rotator cuff problem.  This had been coming on for a while, starting with sore biceps.  I think what finally

did me in was wall walks a couple of days before the Hope event.  Anyway I wasn’t working up to the event properly, and I was distracted.

I managed to get 127 reps, which is a substantial improvement.  But it was ugly: snatches were all muscle, I was leaning into the thrusters, I couldn’t find a rhythm for the chest-to-bars.  In other words my form was poor.  I was in a hurry and I was not properly focused.

Interestingly enough, I didn’t suffer any particular shoulder pain.  Which is something to be really thankful for.  Right up to the “3-2-1” go I was worried burpees would finish me before I got to the bars.  But I made it through.  In fact my burpee form was pretty good the whole time.

So here’s the analysis: first, I had no business doing the men’s Rx.  I should have scaled down to the woman’s Rx.  Secondly, I should have been working on burpees and box jumps to build up technique and confidence.  Third, had I taken a moment or two to actually work on 75# power snatches it would have helped — I needed to get 5 per round.  Practice would have told me whether I was prepared or not to get there.  Which would have taken me back to square 1: scale it!

Perhaps the hidden culprit here is ego.  My partner for the Hope WOD was Chris Bacas, who did 254 reps.  Not that I could have predicted that (I had never met him before, nor did I know who my partner would be.) But it’s the whole ambiance of crossfit that is seductive: get beyond your best, go to unexplored territory.  I’m surrounded by really fit, competent athletes, and it is so tempting to want to perform at a higher level.

All that said, I’m glad I did it.  I actually felt great during the workout.  I felt great afterwards too.  And I don’t mean felt great as in “glad it was over” — I mean tired but exhilarated.  And I got to see dozens of athletes I had never seen before.

I still think I have a long way to go to find the end of my fitness level.  It’s just going to be a slower curve then I had imagined.

Cheers.

Some days just finishing is an accomplishment.  I had three workouts last week and two of those brought me to nearly total exhaustion.

The first workout consisted of rowing 100m every minute on the minute for 10 minutes.  Simple enough.  It was my first day back after a week off, and I was happy to have a WOD I could control.  In other words, I could take it easy.  Which I did.  I wasn’t lazy exactly, but just not going all out.

The next two WODs?  Not so easy.

The second WOD was brutal.  The warm up: 30 53# kb swings, 30 pullups, 30 pushups, 30 squats.  I had not used a 53# kettlebell before in a determined way.   The most I had ever used in a WOD was 44#.  These particular swings were shoulder height (i.e., “Russian”) but  it was still hard.

The WOD: 4x 400m run, 60m farmers walk with 50# sandbags in each hand, 20 box jumps at 20 inches.  I was tired going into it. After round 1 I was feeling some serious physical stress and getting a bit nervous.  As in, I can’t do this.  During round 2 I didn’t really remember ever having been anywhere else.  The WOD was just about the total of my consciousness.

I lowered the intensity by taking few seconds to get some water.  Round 3 was better because I had caught my breath a little.  Round 4 was mostly will power.  Total time: 19 minutes.  I was happy to have finished it.  I found some shade inside to fall down into and tried to relax.  Laying down didn’t help.  So I got a small glass of beer (a plastic cup, proving I am not too proud to beg.)  That helped. I’m not sure how much more I could have done, but I was exhausted to the point of being dizzy.

The third WOD was also very simple: a 5K row.  The trick (for me at least) was to try and keep good rowing form, keep a steady pace and not stop for anything.  It took me 24 minutes and 15 seconds.  Not a bad time, considering I had never done a 5K row.  Although it was slower then just about everybody else.

But I did not attempt to lower the intensity.  I pursued every stroke with as much vigor as I could muster.  Occasionally my mind would drift, but I brought myself back to the rowing by focusing on my form and the feel of the tension in the chain.  When I got off the rower my legs were wobbly.  My lungs felt like they had been inflated to twice their normal size.

I won’t say I got 100% of those two WODs.  Probably 95% and 90%.  But I think I’m way more disciplined in how I go about the workout then before.  I can feel the stress wearing my resolve down, and the voice that says “quit!” gets louder and louder.  The resentment builds up.  No more!  But to keep going is such sweet pain.  To get beyond that barrier of “quit!” again, and again, and again — that’s discipline.  That is commitment.  That is strength.

Cheers.

The CrossFit NorCal Regionals are over.  CrossFit East Sacramento came in fifth place.  They won’t be going on to the games, but they made sure that those that are going are worthy of the trip.  That’s the very best kind of competition: the kind that enriches everybody.

I’m not likely to ever make it past the open.   But that’s OK.  Because achieving my peak performance does not guarantee that my ability will be superior, or even interesting, to other people.  I am not particularly concerned with that.  What I am particularly concerned with is knowing that I am just as serious about my performance as the  best Crossfit  athletes.

“Serious” means I have the emotional strength and the mental discipline to actually get to a higher level of fitness.  The question of “serious” always comes down to one thing: the ability to find failure. And get past it.  Wherever that leads.  In practical terms this means getting to exhaustion while avoiding unnecessary injury.

During the first Open WOD (max burpees in 7 minutes) I felt a sharp pain in my right upper arm.   It wasn’t debilitating, so I continued and got 74 burpees.  I didn’t notice any pain again for a while.  Then a couple of weeks ago it flared up again while doing burpees. After that it was sore every day.  My doctor determined it’s a slight tear in my deltoid muscle, as opposed to a more serious rotator cuff injury.  In other words I have a sore shoulder.  If I’m careful it will heal and I’ll be back to 100%.

Cheers.