Daigle Breathes Fire

Out of My Element

2012-01-30T17:16:00.000-05:00

It's strange how beingnestled high in the Rockies like a John Denver wet dream can give youback your perspective. I had the goodfortune of spending five days in the Aspen, Colorado areawith some great people, most of whom are not CrossFitters. This gaveme time to appreciate some of the simple things in life, and reflecton some deep poo that I'd lost touch with.

Since ourmovement became the“sport of fitness”, many of us have had a paradigm shift awayfrom one of the keystones of CrossFit Methodology. Specifically,“Learn and play new sports.” There's endless ways to test yourfortitude, your mental toughness, yourself. Expressing fitness, bothmental and physical is something we're accustomed to in CrossFit. Asa group though, we leave a lot on the table. Some of us havelost sight of that which made functional fitness so unique andappealing in the first place.

Five words thatpunch like Mike Tyson on a drug-fueled hissy fit. Learn andplay new sports. The “sport of fitness” is just a smalloutgrowth of a far, far greater concept. The mission many of us started with – training not to suckat life – is a tongue-in-cheek way of saying we're a broad, general, inclusive capacity. That's as badass as thelove child of CruellaDe Vil and MaximusDesimus Meridius.

Being“CrossFit” is being generally capable in all modes and domainsof performance. In order to be “elite” at anythingyou have to sacrifice something – that includes CrossFit. Which is fine because that's not everyone's goal. Somepeople CrossFit to live better – they don't live to CrossFitbetter. Fucking crazy, right? It's true though, and it's notstrange...it's AWESOME. I think most of us who aren't among theseveral hundred people who are headed to The Games need to step backperiodically and remember where we came from.

I was exposed like a long-haired Pee-Wee Herman onthat mountain...

I was painfullyreminded of this during my Colorado adventure. One morning I wasdoing a team WOD with the awesome folks at CrossFit Bonedale inCarbondale, CO. The next, I was Hiking up to a mere (by localstandards) 10,500ft. I was out of my element, huffing and puffing asif I rifled lung darts like the Rat Pack. I have some prettydecent numbers on CrossFit benchmarks. I'm an OK runner by CrossFitstandards, and stronger than average.

This was areminder that there are other metrics out there besides those wesubscribe to. I was exposed like a long-haired Pee-Wee Herman onthat mountain...humbled by the pace of a girl half my size who doesnot CrossFit. Granted, my level of fitness is what enabled me tosurvive this 8 mile hike on some challenging terrain, half of whichwas on snow shoes (which I'd never used before). Yes, it's fuckingcool that we can do pretty much anything as a result of ourfitness...but that doesn't mean we're going to be the best, or evencompetitive at anything – especially when compared to a specialist.

Staying focusedon where we're going and living in the present is huge. Just rememberingwhere we came from isn't enough. Finding that focus opened my eyes to things I've been missing. Thereare other sports out there, ya know, and Coach told us to learn andplay them. Do I want to make it to L.A.? Or do I want to be ableto complete adventure races on the weekends with limited trainingtime? These are different paths. Along with that comes things such as dropping the elitist, bullshitattitude that has become all too common these days.

Phil has exquisite moobs.

Stop arguing withgolf pro's about how your slice-bias programming which consists ofsnatch balance box jumps and thumb push ups is going to turn you into Phil-man-boobs-Mickelson. Cutthe shit and quit arguing with Trail and endurance runners that turnin fifteen minute 5k times and three-hour-minus marathons abouthow your CrossFit Endurance training is more enlightened andeffective at owning podiums at races across the land. It's not goingto happen. These things are tools to us - it's their CrossFit. They're not going to best you at "Nancy", just like you're not going to beat them in a foot race.

Let me be clear about this, you're wrong...and you sound like anignorant, pompous ass when you push the issue. It's like me telling an Olympic soccer player that coming to football practice is going to make them better at Soccer. First of all, that's not my goal. Second of all,the soccer player isn't trying to be a competitive CrossFitter. The wayhe/she eats being wrong for CrossFit, or health, or wellness,etc...is inconsequential because that isn't what they're trainingfor. Just like me eating a cheesecake diet is not going to winme a bodybuilding competition. What we think of each others goals orpassions is irrelevant.

If you're a CrossFitter then be a CrossFitter - not a "BetterAtEverythingFitter."

If you run like agiraffe on stilts with broken knees, CrossFit Running and Endurancewill help you tighten your game – and make you a better CrossFitter (and a better runner, by CrossFit standards)– by closing holes in your GPP. If you're as strong as Kate Moss onmuscle relaxants, then CrossFit Strength Bias (or Wendler, etc) will make you less of a pussy and make you a strongerCrossFitter.

These CrossFit methods are designed tomake CrossFitters better at things we suck at. They're notdesigned to make you a world champion mountain racer, or Olympiclifter. The people who do compete at the highest level in any ofthese sports are no different than an NFL player, or a pro golfer.Sure, they aren't going to win the CrossFit Games. However, they will most definitely fuckyou up in pass coverage, or beat your ass up and down the back 9 at Augusta. Evenif they do CrossFit (as some do) they don't give a shit if your Frantime is four minutes faster. Their objective is a goal-line stop, or ahole-in-one.

If you're a CrossFitter then be a CrossFitter - not a "BetterAtEverythingFitter." If you're really a runner and just using CrossFit to aid your training, awesome! We welcome you. Keep yourself in focus. Know what you really are, and what matters to you. If you are a CrossFitter though, respect those who have chosen other sports, just as they should respect that you've chosen CrossFit. We all have much to learn from each other.

Travel Like a CrossFitter

2012-01-23T15:53:00.000-05:00

Aspen does not suck.

CrossFit gyms have changed ex-gymrats into savvy, healthy, cultish weirdo's. Turned skiddishsoccer moms into metcon mavens, and transformed “trainers” fromlow-rent college kids who only looked like they were in shape becausethey couldn't afford food, to jet-setting celebrities that travel theworld teaching the way of the barbell. The functional fitnessmovement has changed a lot about the small corner of the world thatwe live in. In times B.C. (before CrossFit) I could count the numberof trips I'd taken on one hand. Now, it seems like I'm alwaysplanning the next adventure, and they almost always involve CrossFit.

Spandex trying toflatten out your huevos rancheros on a plane isn't my idea of a goodtime.

Travel like a Boss.

There's only one way to travel: Likea boss. As I preside over seat 36F on this Boeing 757 enroute toDenver, Colorado, I've been pondering the ways CrossFitters travelwhich differ from the rest of the populace. As I enjoy theepic-win of window seat plus no one in the center seat, I'll sharesome tips so that newer members of the community can enjoy thetravel perks we've become accustomed to. Timing of travel is as important aschecking to see if there's enough TP before you sit on the throne.Also, your intermodal (i.e. between home and the airport)movement is just as important as your flight(s). There'simportant clothing considerations to be made as well. One does notsimply wrap their elite, fatless bum in any old rags and traipseacross the continent. Planning ahead to make sure your nutritionaland exercise needs will be taken care of is key, and one of fewthings we share with the bodybuilding/figure competitor community.

It's 3 on, 1 travel. Traveling evenshort distances consumes nearly an entire day and is always hectic.So plan ahead, and travel on your rest day. This way you're notfreaking out like a teenage girl that just peed a “plus” sign. If you have to goan extra day straight in advance to make it happen, go for it. Planning flights early in the AM or red-eye's that you canzonk out on are always great too. Mornings appeal to mostCrossFitters, so flights before 7am are a good choice. Your innateneed to compete at all times will be satisfied by thehurried-before-dawn feel of morning travel. Have a black-eye with thenew blond roast at 'buckies in the terminal to achieve a caffeineinduced state of awesome that will make your fellow passengers wantto backhand you into to the galley. Tell the barista I sent you.

Are you close to the airport? Youbooked a 5am flight. Do you want to get up at 3am? No, that sucks donkey balls.Also, it would be impossible to get the 8+ hours of sleeprequired for your extra point in the paleo challenge. Solution: Airport hotel. The Hilton at Logan Airport in Boston isconnected directly to terminal A and E via a “skybridge”, whichas close as I can tell is a catwalk with moving sidewalks and a verypretentious name. ALWAYS walk fast on these and feel likeUsain Bolt with a rocket booster strapped to your ass. I recommendchecking to see where the terminal gates are though. Fortunately, Ilucked out and ended up as far from terminal “C” as possible.This gave me an opportunity to showcase my elite fitness byspeed-walking all the way through the airport and arriving at thegate calm and non-sweat-beast.

Small Airports Rock.

Spandex trying toflatten out your huevos rancheros on a plane isn't my idea of a goodtime. Save the compression gear for your workouts. There arecomfortable ways to sit in the worlds smallest seats next to peoplewho are wide enough to occupy three quarters of your personal space. It's not the 50's, so we won't be attired in tie and tweed jacket tomake a journey. Jeans? Come on bro, you're better than that. Here'show to thread up for your voyage: Comfy shoes likesneakers or running shoes are great. Choose socks that don't promotefoot sweat...A) that stinks, B) no one wants swamp foot for 6hrs. If its summer shorts are a good go. If it's cooler you'll wantpants of course. I prefer the crème de la crème here. Lululemonpants are the motherfucking SHIT for traveling. It doesn't get morecomfortable, your ass looks so good it could be photoshopped, andthere's also a tactical advantage. Truck through security like agreased up naked guy – there's nothing to check. It's obviousnothing is concealed within, and there aren't any metal buttons,snaps, or buckles that will doom you to additional screening.Tops are where it gets really specific. CrossFitters ALWAYS travel inCrossFit T-shirts. This is non-negotiable. There's a few reasons forthis: 1) CrossFit T-shirts are usually high quality, soft, extremelycomfy blends. Perfect. 2) We feel the need to constantly fly colors.That's just how it is - suck it. This identifies us to other cultmembers – er, CrossFitter's – so we can bask in each othersawesomeness and network. You'd be shocked how many times you'll runinto other CrossFitters at airports or on planes. Once identified you can have a 5hr conversation aboutCrossFit with this person.

If there's anIn 'n' Out in the area, paleo can go F itself.

Checking blogs, seeingwhere local affiliates are, digging through programming, and seeing who hasthe coolest T-shirts are among the the things to look for when going abroad. Only CrossFittersdo research gyms before a planning a trip. This precedes evensearching for flights, hotels or rental cars. It's customary to email the Affiliate inquestion ahead of time and let them know that you'd like to “drop-in” when you're in town if that's cool, and what thedrop-in procedure is. These range from nothing, to a small fee, toAffiliate T-shirt exchanges. Check ahead of time. Right afterfinding gyms in the area to workout while you're away, you need tofeed yourself something other than fast food or bags of nuts andjerky. A Google map of all the area Whole Foods markets near yourdestination is recommended. The exception to this rule is when you'reheaded to a locale where there is some shitty-for-you food that isamazing and cannot be gotten at home. For me, that's thingslike In 'n' Out Burger, Bob's Big Boy, or Randy's Donuts. If there's anIn 'n' Out in the area, paleo can go F itself. My personal researchon travel destinations includes checking the Man Vs. Food website tosee what places they've been in the area – like the Melt Bar inCleveland – so I can try the 5lb grilled cheese challenge.

The Warp Zone

2012-01-19T16:51:00.000-05:00

The Denver Airport is bigger than your mom

Travel is not real life. The airportis a strange, different world. A place somehow partitioned fromreality. Beyond the veil of security and the exorbitant price ofadmission lies the duty free shop, where you're insulated from thegovernment. There are candy shops, coffee shops , and bars where (atleast it seems) you are absolved from the guilt and consequence ofthe real...it's travel.

It's a gateway, or a path toeverywhere...while being nowhere itself. A place difficult toreach, different from anywhere else on earth. An world that requiressacrifice to enter. Dump out that drink, and take off yourshoes...perhaps even get your your sausage massaged by a uniformedofficial – It's like a sovereign nation with its own laws andcustoms. You can get nearly anything in there past the metaldetectors and the surly TSA agents. You can go almost anywhere, atbreak-neck speeds that would give the Key Maker travel-envy.

Warp zone. Like a Boss.

It's the real life warp-zone. Anether region, where the rules are different than in this place, butwhich connects us to the parts of reality beyond our sight. Insteadof 8-bit pipes there's the security line, and the airliner asconduits between reality and the state of flux within the warp zone.

The terminal to everywhere...is nowhere.

It's a cheat code to run roughshodall over the planet. A work-around for the laws oftime and distance our species was born with. Like in The MatrixReloaded, It's a place where no stair can reach and no elevator can go.It's a corridor, separate from our world, where there are many doors.Doors that will take us anywhere we wish to go. Back door programexits that let us move into and out of any part of the world to whichit's connected, via giant aluminum tubes powered by kerosene and theprinciples of fluid dynamics.

We're left with one question. Justone, ever present, unsatisfiable query. Where do you want to go?

--Thispost brought to you by caffeine, chocolate, sugar, an Airbus 320, theletter B, and the number 5.

Tubes of Chapstick

2012-01-10T12:00:00.000-05:00

Everything today is about value. Unfortunately, this isn't Raiders of the Lost Ark, and everything we deal with isn't a big-ass chunk of gold. That's easy to assign value to. The value we talk about these days is more ambiguous. It's easy to figure out what an hour of training is worth. A tube of Chapstick, though. That's different. What if that Chapstick had been with you for months? Sit the fuck down, and pull up a coffee, this might get The Matrix deep.

Life hurts. CrossFit really, really fucking hurts. Still, we truck through them like delta force on a mission from Chuck Norris.

I will finish this tube.

I try not to paint everyone's facebook wall with daily updates on what color my shit is. I wait until I have something important or funny to say (at least in my mind). Everywhere you look, the discussion centers on value. Value for consumers, value for shareholders, value for loved ones, or for our audiences. That's why I don't post something every day. When I do, I fucking mean it. I want to bring value to the reader (That's you).

What is value though? We know in terms of the physical it's a measure of relative worth in some medium (like money) that can be exchanged for it. When you're talking about a video or a piece of writing it's no longer that simple. It's more like, "What is the value of NOT getting kicked in the yogurt factory." We know that it's EXTREMELY valuable, but we're hard pressed to put a dollar amount on it.

Reality is perception, so if we feel it, it's real.

Another way to define value is relative merit, importance, or worth. There's that word again - relative. That's important, but relative to what? It depends on your place in the universe when you make that valuation. This is more inline with what I'm getting at. Value isn't the absolute "cost" of something, it's how much it's worth in relative terms - taking all other factors into account - such as is this better than something else I can have. Is this this video worth the five minutes of my life that I'm trading to watch it? Is this blog post worth the mental energy and cranial storage space for expletives that it'll use up?

This isn't just about media though, it's about our lives. We want to live lives of value. Life hurts. CrossFit really, really fucking hurts. Still, we truck through them like delta force on a mission from Chuck Norris. We do it because we understand the value in these things. We know that we must endure the hardships of life with a sunny disposition if we want the good stuff. We know that we have to do the filthy fifty so that we can increase our fitness, feel good, and spend more time on this mortal coil without shitting our pants uncontrollably.

Seemingly meaningless, insigificant things can carry more weight than Rob Orlando. People and things can become infinitely valuable to us in many ways. If they change us for the better. If we fall in love. If they've been with us for a long time. The soul of nostalgia and the connection that we feel with people, we also feel with things - like tubes of Chapstick.

It's wonder it got that green, always being empty like this.

I've had a tube of red (What is that shit? Cherry?) Chapstick for over six months now. This is the furthest I've ever come. I'm on a mission to finish it, not dooming it to the fate of billions of it's brethren in the washing machine or dryer. It shall not pass into shadow left in a jacket pocket until summer, then unceremoniously tossed. It's been in the truck for quite a while, and I've oft gone without it rather than remove it from it's cozy home in the center console. Why? For fear of losing it. It's valuable to me...I like having it around. It's worth about $1, but the history I have with it is priceless. I realize this is melodramatic, but there's a big rope of truth running right through the middle of it.

Reality is perception, so if we feel it, it's real. I'm a pretty nostalgic dude. I've had the same wallet since I was twelve. No joke, it's the only wallet I've ever had. Its now careworn innards are stained green from all the one dollar bills that have passed through it on their way to strippers g-strings and bartenders tip jars. It's the Darth Vader of wallets - more duct tape now than leather - and dreaming of the day it will rest in peace. It's valuable to me. I lost it twice, and both times I almost lost my mind...but thankfully it was returned

This is the only wallet I've ever owned.

Sometimes we dismiss people. They may have been in our lives in a significant way or not previously, but for whatever reason we've decided they were out. Then, slowly we realize how valuable they are to us. The time spent with them is important, maybe even critical to what makes you who you are. Then you realize you need them - to shine in a place where anyone else would only fill a void. It's like when you bought that new car, but have secretly always missed your old one.

In real life though, we have to realize how valuable people are to us before they're history like a cookie at the Daigle compound. You can buy a car back. Someone will probably return your wallet. Chapstick can be replaced for next to nothing after only a brief period of mourning. The value of people in our lives is so great, that once they've vacated their place, for better or worse, it can never be filled quite the same way again. Remember the things that are important, and how they got that way. Your friends, your loved ones, barbells, CrossFit, and even tubes of Chapstick.

Coach: Forging Daigle

2012-01-08T14:47:00.000-05:00

These days simply referring to "Coach" is understood to mean Greg Glassman, the founder and CEO of CrossFit. Long before CrossFit was ever a hint of fart wafting on the breeze of my life, someone else held the title "Coach."As I sit here typing this, I'm realizing just how hard it is to turn a phrase that encapsulates someone who was so much larger than life.

David Stecchi was a hulking beast of a man. Then, in his 60's, he was clearly a force with which to be reckoned. It was obvious that in his prime he must have been an indomitable physical presence.

Yesterday evening a good friend of mine texted me, and I couldn't believe what I was reading. My high school football coach had passed away. Of course, I was shocked and taken aback. Almost immediately though, I remembered. I remembered who he was and what he did for me. I began reflecting on how through his influence I became who I am today. No amount of words, or completeness of story telling could ever do him justice, so I'll just offer a few thoughts on the toughest man I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.

I was a 13yr old that hated everything about school and was an all-around unhappy little porker. The one thing I had going for me was impressive strength for my size and age. Eventually, some of the kids I hung around with who played football convinced me to come out for the team my sophomore year. I committed to doing it, and lifted weights in the sweltering dungeon of a weight room that we had at Dracut High School back in those days. That's where I find my first memory of the man.

...it was a dream forged by a blacksmith hammering us on the anvil of defeat and heated by the fire of criticism.

He was sitting on an incline bench press presiding over the 6 or 7 of us who had come in to pump iron in preparation for the grid iron dreams of the coming season. David Stecchi was a hulking beast of a man. Then, in his 60's, he was clearly a force with which to be reckoned. It was obvious that in his prime he must have been an indomitable physical presence. His hands were the size of an entire football, with craggy knuckles so big they must have been broken ten times each. His Super Bowl ring was large enough to be a bracelet on me. The man's face was rugged, furrowed and careworn. He had been a tight end at Holy Cross in the 1950's BEFORE face masks - something I can't even imagine. He carried about him a presence and an air of authority that was intimidating, but not without a softness that his students and players could feel.

I was at once terrified of the man, and immediately drawn to his leadership. Over the coming months and years he would become the most influential figure in my life, aside from my parents. Football is really a backdrop to this story. As poignant, cherished, and beyond words football is for me...it's still just a stage on which this formative period played out. Coach taught me how to knock someone into the middle of next week with just a helmet and shoulder pads. More importantly though, he taught me that it was OK when the 270 pound senior dick-bag ran me over like a steamy pile...so long as I got back up and punched him in the throat on the next play.

Coach schooled us in the art of the win - on a team that had barely won a game in 3yrs. We would have our revenge and nearly run the table as seniors, but it was a dream forged by a blacksmith hammering us on the anvil of defeat and heated by the fire of criticism. He taught us how to thrive in spite of it, and eventually to rise above it. We were constantly and publicly lambasted by the local papers and the people of Dracut, who felt we didn't belong in our conference anymore, unable to compete with the Chelmsfords and Billerica's. Like the bumble bee who doesn't know that it's not supposed to be able to fly, coach taught us to fight harder than anyone else that we would have our day - and we did - the world be damned.

It was Coach Stecchi who brought out the best in me for the first time. Through sheer force of will, I (and the rest of our team) accomplished things the rest of the world said were impossible. The world said I was too short. "There's no way a 5'5" kid can be a good offensive/defensive lineman." All-conference both ways, bitch. "There's no way Dracut will be any good, they can't compete." Well, we wrecked house with the 2 biggest schools in the league. There are countless other examples of toughness, determination, and chivalry all brought to us by Dave Stecchi.

Those of you who've been reading this blog for awhile and are accustomed to my in-your-face, aggressive motivational point of view and writing style...thanks Coach Stecchi. That attitude and outlook are one-hundred percent attributable to him - Be a prickface, Use the Force, Prepare for Glory, Choose the Wrench - are all inspired by the attitude Dave Stecchi taught me as a kid.

Live honorably and with integrity, never be ashamed of the effort you've put forth.

I'm thankful to be able to say he knew the impact he had, although I hadn't seen him in a few years. The last time I saw him was a few years ago, as a very, very new football coach. He stopped by our practice on his mountain bike to say hello. I'm not sure if he understood how powerful that meeting was. Having come full circle like that, he was now standing on the field next to me while I was doing my best to give a new group of kids what he had given to me.

What I do now, CrossFit, and how I do it is just an extension of what I learned from Coach. Fight. Hard. Never, ever, ever fucking stop. Even if there's no possible way you can win keep going until it's not up to you anymore. Be a prickface - on the field - but check that shit at the door on your way into school (or work, home, the real world, etc). Live honorably and with integrity, never be ashamed of the effort you've put forth.

My Nostalgic nature is well documented, and has always been there...even as a 17yr old kid. My last moments with Coach Stecchi as a player came after my final game as a high school senior. It was Thanksgiving morning in 1997. We had just completed the most perfect of ass-whoopings against Methuen, our neighboring town and rivals. With that, we'd completed a season that none believed in, except for us and Coach.

He was my coach.

I was sitting alone in the sun drenched locker room, long after everyone else had hurried home for their Thanksgiving dinners with family. I lingered, reflecting on the life changing experience that I thought was coming to an end (it surely wasn't...it STILL isn't). Coach walked in and said, "I knew you'd still be in here Daigle. Time to go home son." We walked outside past the field in the crisp fall air where the still lit scoreboard exclaimed "Dracut 27, Methuen 0" and showed the time of "00:00." I choked back tears the whole time, as I'm doing right now. Coach shook my hand, eclipsing my seemingly miniature hands with his giant, sausage-fingered meat hooks. I said, "Coach it's been an honor and a privilege. Thank you." Coach said something to me that I can still hear as clearly as if he was standing next to me now. He said, "Daigle...." You know what, I'm going to keep that one to myself, I hope you understand.

That's who David Stecchi was. A man of honor. A man from a generation now lost to history. A man of character that cannot be forgotten and will likely never be equalled. He taught us how to play football, how to live by the sword - on and off the field - while conducting ourselves as gentlemen. He was a leader, a father figure, and an icon. He stood for more to me than I can explain with words. The only way to put it that someone else might understand, I guess, is...He was my coach.

Dave Stecchi At Holy Cross.

Rest easy Coach.

F*** Paleo

2011-12-26T15:47:00.000-05:00

Life is hard.

I've told paleo to go F itself in the back of a Volkswagen over the Christmas weekend. I may just have outdone myself this year, and I paid for it during DT today like I was a nobleman during the French revolution. Which is doubly funny, as the only war the French could win was against themselves. Here are the links to past years exploits.

Christmas 2009
Christmas 2010

No less is expected of me. While I adhere stringently to the paleo presecription the majority of the time, my fondness for foods that are as paleo as the space shuttle is legendary. I leave no dessert unmolested on Christmas, and as I've done for the last two years, I shall chronicle the debauchery here for all to see. Beginning at about noon on Christmas eve (it actually began before that, but for the sake of upholding the standards we'll start the clock then) and running through Christmas night. The consumption went as follows, duplicates are because they happened more than once, all entries are in chronological order:

6 White Castle Sliders (in NJ driving home from PA)
Peppermint mocha Latte
Cranberry Bliss bar
Biscotti
Black-bottom mini cup cakes
Cookie (don't know the name but it was a sugar-ish cookie with cream cheese in it)
Sugar cookies
butter cookies
Shortbread fudge cookies
Shepherd's pie
Pork Pie
Kit kat
Twix
Nachos
Vanilla cup cakes
Oatmeal Cookie
Chocolate Chip cookies

Sleep

Chocolate frosted Donut
French Cruller Donut
Old fashioned Donut
Chocolate glazed donut
Egg Nog
Baked Potato
Ricotta Ravioli
Prime rib
Flaky bread roll
Cream soda
Sugar cookies
Oatmeal butterscotch cookies
Italian cookies
Lemon Cheesecake
Chocolate Pudding Pie
Beer
Pecan Pie
Eggnog Cake
Peanut butter fudge
Chocolate chip cookie
Beer
Biscotti
Black-bottom mini cup cakes
Cheese cake squares
Mini eclair
Beer
Cream puff
Tortilla chips
Prime rib (different party)
Squash
Mashed Potato
Green beans
Stuffed Shells
Meatballs
Fresh baked dinner roll
Beer
Peanut butter crunch thing.
Blondie
Sugar cookie
Beer
Shortbread cookies (homemade by the Ockerbabe herself)
Chocolate rice crispies treats
Hershey's kiss
Beer
Tortilla chips
A green confectionery thing that looked like holly (created by the Ockerbabe)
Shortbread cookie
Beer
Peanut butter crunch thing again
Chocolate rice crispy treat
Sugar cookie
Tortilla chips
Chocolate chip cookie

Matty The Nine-Toed Trainer

2011-12-25T13:29:00.002-05:00

Matt. Strong, to quite strong....even on one foot.

You know Heather and Ben
And Lisaand Ashley,
Mel and Ronda
And Daigle and Billy.
But do yourecall
The most pissed off trainer of all?!

Matty thenine-toed trainer
Had a very gnarly toe
And if you ever sawit
You just might gag and choke.

All of the other trainers
Usedto laugh and call him names
They'll never let poor Matty
Useany bands or chains.

Then one sweaty Christmas Eve
Bennycame to say
Matty with your toe-ful blight

Won't you row 5k tonight?

Then all the trainers snickered
Andthey shouted out with glee
"Matty the nine-toedtrainer
You'll go down in history!"

If you're not from CFNE, Matt dropped a banded bar from the rack position on a platform, shattering his toe. Get well soon buddy! We love ya...Merry Christmas!

A long Time Ago, In a Bar Not So Far Away

2011-12-17T20:29:00.001-05:00

There was a time and a place when drinking held a special place in my heart. I supposed it still does, but the times it lives up to expectations have become few and far between. There's many times now, when I simply choose to take the teetotaler path and just not drink when I go out. One of the many things CrossFit has taught me, is how to have fun out at bars with a water in my hand.

I suppose I've matured (somewhat) and now being a drunk moron just isn't as appealing. At least most of the time, of course I have my moments. I've often wondered what happened to bring me here. Granted, waking up foggy and/or hungover is miserable when you're training the next day, so that's surely part of it. It definitely doesn't improve fitness that's for sure. One of the worst days of my life involved an attempt at a 10-9-8....1 ladder of Powercleans, burpees, and ring dips after an all night bender. Never again. But, I suspect there's more to it than that.

I mean a REAL Irish pub with a bartender named Seamus, very dark wood, little to no lights, and girls you probably wouldn't take home in the back of a pick up truck

The overall willingness of circles of friends to drink and make merriment has declined with age. That's just part of life, though. I've come to realize that I'm not going to miss anything I haven't seen or experienced before by abstaining from imbibing the amber fluid of the gods. I do love beer, believe me...but unlike in my youth I love BEER, not drunk. Once in a great while being drunk is super fun, but often I just get tired now. Maybe I'm just an old man who's too obsessed with pretending to be an athlete.

A great barroom sing-along tune.

The fall down laughing, singing at the top of your lungs, ecstatic joyful drunkenness that once took place on the regular at Eddie Coyle's Road House Tavern back home, has been replaced with needing a nap. The time honored tradition of heavily inebriated men belting out folk songs at inappropriate volume with arms on shoulders has been largely lost. Is it age? Is it society? Is it just this region? I'm not sure but I'd like to bring it back.

THIS is a pub - The Ruck, Troy NY.

Those were some of the best nights of my life. Sitting in the rafters of a rustic lake house drunker than Gary Busey, doing my best Axl Rose impression with 35 close friends as accompaniment. That's an experience I'd like to have more of. Sitting around a camp fire and telling old ghost stories, or singing Woody Guthrie songs with a pint or a glass of scotch is an important part of male bonding. We've superseded much of this with CrossFit, and that's alright. However, it would be a goddamn Greek tragedy if we were to forget about it entirely.

Drinking and singing (badly) somehow brings feelings of warmth and kinship that are seldom duplicated by other means. It's high time we found our way back into an Irish pub someplace - and I mean a REAL Irish pub with a bartender named Seamus, very dark wood, little to no lights, and girls you probably wouldn't take home in the back of a pick up truck - settled in and sang a chorus of Charlie Mopps, cued up Don't Stop Believing on the juke box, and raised our glasses in salute of all who've done so before us.

Eyes Up

2011-12-10T15:21:00.000-05:00

All you have to do is look up.

I had a moment of clarity Thanksgiving morning. Something that's as common in Daigleville as invites to the playboy mansion...shit doesn't happen chief. It takes a bit of a nudge to push me out of the fog and into the bright sunny morning sometimes. Fortunately, we have a lot of things in CrossFit that are pretty good at pushing us around. Thanks to that pushing, I learned something I hadn't realized before. A powerful new weapon to wage war on negative self talk.

I showed up to CFNE early, as it takes me about 20 years to warm up for "Murph." I stretched a little and went for a 400m run to get loose. You know those runs - the ones where your legs feel like lead and your lungs burn like they're filled with habanero infused asbestos. Some days the runs are just hard - and some days the weight is really heavy. When that happens during a warm up it generally begins a cascade of thoughts that lead to self-defeat...at least for me. I tried to put that run behind me as I continued the warm up, though. After all, this is MURPH. As my man Geoff Leard would say, "WWMMD?" (What would Michael Murphy do?).

Not just straight ahead, but up at the bright blue American-as-fuck sky of Thanksgiving morning

Before the workout started, we listened to the posthumous presentation of the medal of honor to Lt. Murphy. It was a powerful feeling, and as soon as the speech ended Ben unexpectedly yelled, "3-2-1 GO!" We took off like a bat out of hell, there was a huge traffic jam at the door, so I threw some 'bows and made a hole for Geoff to get by...he had work to do, like setting the CFNE record for Murph.

Only 2 laps into the first mile I was already feeling that heavy, suffocating feeling of Rosie O'Donnell sitting on your chest. Only I wasn't wearing a vest, which was troubling. As inspiring as it was to watch Geoff on his journey to a world-class performance, I was still suffering. I called to bear all the positive self talk I could muster, but still I was clinging to a doubt emboldened by the pain in my chest.

"Maybe it's a heart attack? Oh stop being a pussy and run.", I thought. The mid-WOD Santa Claus brought me some serious muscle fatigue which I fought like a honey badger to not focus on, but the going was tough. It was like running through a hallway filled waist-deep with molten marshmallow, and angry, evil, ball-kicking Lilliputian.

Despite my gray matter beating itself bloody, instead of railing against the burning and suffering being reported by the peripheral nervous system it was soon time for the second mile. One of the most harrowing tasks in all of CrossFit is the second mile of Murph. I just plunged headlong into the run and tried not to think about anything. I ended up in a place you're familiar with....running, head down with my eyes on the ground about eight feet in front of me.

All of a sudden it dawned on me like a med ball square on the nose. Eyes UP! I looked up. Not just straight ahead, but up at the bright blue American-as-fuck sky of Thanksgiving morning. There were pretty clouds, leaves rustling on the trees, and warm rays of sunshine highlighting it all. Suddenly my legs didn't hurt so much. My chest didn't feel quite so collapsed on itself. I remembered that this is FUCKING AWESOME. It's beautiful out here in the cool air with wings on my feet. Next thing I knew I was floating, smooth, and easy.

That one small, effortless adjustment did more for my mental state and sense of physical well-being than anything I had tried in the previous half hour. Suddenly I found myself feeling free, happy, and content. Where the FUCK ELSE would I rather be than here, now. Nowhere. I turned to thoughts of gratefulness that I was capable of doing this and that some rougher men than I afforded me the opportunity to do so. Not eyes on the prize, or boobs, or anything else they're usually focused on - just UP. Taking in that clear, blue, sunny sky on a crisp November morning did wonders for perspective.

Next time you're sucking buttermilk through your balloon-knot in the middle of a workout... stop. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and just lift your eyes up past the horizon. Look around at the beautiful things around you and take joy in the work you're doing. All you have to do is look up.

Clear The Room

2011-11-26T08:27:00.000-05:00

You open the door and step inside the box to find what you always find: Smiling people, barbells, friends, and chalk - things you love. Then you head to the locker room to change, only to return and find something different.

The room which was filled with your most cherished things moments ago, is now a house of horrors that would make Gomez Adams call the fucking Ghostbusters. Our workouts are terrifying most times - and they should be. As they say, if your workout doesn't scare you a little it's not hard enough. Fortunately (or unfortunately as it were) it takes quite a bit to scare us these days. After you've strapped on your lifting shoes and compression shorts you find that the smiling faces and beloved bumper plates have been replaced by a legion of demons. Twisted, evil, frightful things that are about as pleasant to look upon as Sarah Jessica Parker's century old, fore-skin covered neck.

...the darkness will subside, the light will prevail.

Welcome to hell - your own personal house of horrors. Just like Yoda said, the only thing in this room is what you brought with you. Apparently, we have some issues that would make Freud choke because there's some nasty shit in there. There's good news, though; you don't have to stay. You can fight your way back into the light. We can turn that room back to it's pre-WOD state, all we have to do is face those fears. Clear the room.

You can take them all on at once like Constantine Vs. a room full of demons, or pick them off one by one like "god" in Navy Seals. When you've taken down and beaten all those things that you brought with you, the darkness will subside, the light will prevail. You'll be back where you started; in the warm company of your comrades. This happens each day, every workout. The skies grow dark, and time comes to a standstill while you fight for an eternity that is just a blink to the rest of the world.

Clear the room with your spiritual AK-47 and send those demon bitches back to their hole until the next workout. That room full of gargoyles is there for a reason. It's there because it has to be. It's there because we need something to fight. It's the wellspring of character and development of the soul. Wasting all the unwanted shit in that room one thruster at a time is the road to your salvation. You know they'll be there waiting, so don't enter with trepidation. Walk into that room like a boss, and take care of business.

Finally, take a look at this. This video should end just about every argument or excuse anyone has ever had about how they "can't" do something. Shut up and do it. This is remarkable...thanks to CrossFit 215 for passing it along.

No.

2011-11-19T14:55:00.000-05:00

At this point the no-reps were stacked higher than Rich Froning Jr's year-to-date net worth increase.

I came face to face with an ancient foe last weekend at the Garage Games hosted by CrossFit Southie. The malevolent, virulent, palpable hatred that can only be wrought by the Dynamax corporation hung heavy in the air. The implement of torture that I most fear reared its ugly head. The 2nd WOD of the day on Saturday, "Snatch Balls" was anything but cheeky and funny as the title suggests. A brutal little 7 minute AMRAP that would bring me face to face with the putrid maw of hell.

Snatch Balls:
Amrap 7min
Power Snatch (95lbs) 7 reps
Wall balls (20lbs) 10 reps

Rounds: FAIL (5 +10reps)

Right about the middle of the 3rd round I felt the icy grip of death about my neck and chest. It was then that the Party Rock Anthem came over the PA. Suddenly, A.J. Pappas came to me in a vision and I found the strength to continue. Actually, that's complete bullshit. However, I was so sideways in the middle of this WOD I actually DID come up with that joke during a wall ball. Yeah, it was that bad.

Evan St. Claire captured the feel of this WOD.

Failed wall-ball after failed wall-ball the hypoxia mounted. My poor judge was up to her ass in suffering. At this point the no-reps were stacked higher than Rich Froning Jr's year-to-date net worth increase. I knew all the positive self talk in the world would only take me so far this time - metabolic failure was imminent. I didn't quit though. I recoiled to a position of clarity. Even though I couldn't see anything through my sweat stung eyes, I knew what was coming.

That presence. The voice, the enemy within, whatever you call it. The part of you that if left unmolested leads to self doubt, fear, and panic. It has to be dealt with like an unruly member of occupy Starbucks. Much easier to do when it's seen coming from a looong way off. When you learn to anticipate it's arrival well in advance you can do something about it.

When that moment arrives that you're standing upon the precipice, calculating your trajectory to clear the chasm....there that voice will be behind you, sneering.

When that little SOB arrives you're waiting, hands on hips, daring it to make a move. "Come at me bro." you'll say, but it won't...It's afraid. Realizing this is powerful, if it's afraid then you shouldn't be. Force IT to respect you, and then you can continue in spite of serious pain.

That voice, that presence which lives in your mind and makes you second guess or doubt your ability. It will never leave you. But, it will grow increasingly afraid of your ever-escalating boldness, and fade to a whisper. When that moment arrives that you're standing upon the precipice, calculating your trajectory to clear the chasm....there that voice will be behind you, sneering. "I think it's too far" it might say, or "Legs are kind of sore..." Surely, it will tell you "you should just find another way around." You're the boss now, though, not the voice. You'll just look back over your shoulder at the voice in glaring, F-smirking, disapproval and say, "No." and off you'll fly into the blue, free, awake, and alive.

*Tshirt update: They should all be shipped out next week sometime! Thanks for being patient, I really appreciate it!

Picking Up the Wrench Down Under

2011-11-09T08:09:00.000-05:00

CrossFit Yamba in Australia Getting after it like a boss. Love it. Thanks to my friend Dane Mitchell for the shout out!

T shirt Update: Guys as I mentioned before the response on the CTW shirts has been overwhelming. I can't thank you guys enough for supporting the idea! That being said, there are A LOT of these to mail out, and it's just me stuffing them in envelopes by hand. The first wave is almost sent out now, and there are more shirts coming this week which will be on their way out ASAP!

Choosing The Wrench!

Will: He used to just put a belt, a stick, and a wrench on the kitchen table and say, "Choose." Sean: Well, I gotta go with the belt there. Will: I used to go with the wrench. Sean: Why?
Will: Cause stuff him, that' why.
(ok—I may have taken some poetic license and removed a swear word from that last line… no prizes for guessing what it was!)

That comes straight out of a classic movie called: Goodwill hunting! The lead characters are talking about how when ‘Will’ (not our Coach Will—but I wouldn't be surprised if he made the same choice) was being punished he was given a choice of what he got hit with… and he always chose the most painful implement, the wrench.. because he could!

So, what does this have to do with you getting fitter, healthier and stronger?

Everything.

Making the hard choices, choosing to do one more hill run, saying NO to dessert, stopping after 1 glass of wine (or not having any at all!), CHOOSING to get off the lounge is the difference between those who say they want to feel, look and perform better and those who do feel good, look good and have a strong body and mind!

Choosing the wrench.

Do the work you know you don’t want to do now, and suffer the short term discomfort for long term gain!— put it off or take the ‘easy way out’ and you will suffer the pain of regret and long term discomfort of not getting what you really need because you were lazy and short sighted.

Choosing the “wrench” doesn’t necessarily mean choosing the bigger hill to run, or more burpee’s. More work isn’t necessarily better. Sometimes (as in my case) you need to put away your big wrench and choose a smaller one.. Avoid the tough things you may love (like “Fran” and “Filthy Fifty”) in favour of more rehab work and getting healed!

Choosing to do the work you don’t want to do so you get the outcome you need. It’s a lifestyle and choice that we all make, whether we know it or not..

Stop putting it off, choose the wrench each day and no one can stop you!

Dane

P.s. Many Thanks to My Friend – Kevin Daigle at www.DaigleBreathesFire.com for the inspiration

Pay Up Front

2011-10-29T14:58:00.000-04:00

We don't always get to define the terms. No one is going to offer you 72 months of zero interest financing for a sub 6min mile. Often, we're presented with a situation which we have to make the best of and our options are limited. This is rough when you have to take a faithful step towards the future that requires walking through a mud puddle, or stepping on dog shit. Sometimes though, this is what we have to do right now so that we can be where we need to be down the road.

Fitness doesn't take plastic - Cash only MF'ers.

Human beings are unique in our ability to deal with delayed gratification. Choosing the wrench is a direct application - We can accept hardship and suffering in the short term, in favor of some future reward. We do this all the time in CrossFit. We feel the nearly unbearable pain of 2k row - something like getting hit the dibble with a sledgehammer by King Kong - so that we can get that pat on the back for a job well done. Even further down the road, it's a step on the road to being a piece of twisted steel.

Our coins are a little larger than what you're used to.

Fitness doesn't take plastic - Cash only MF'ers. We can't borrow and bargain our way to a huge back squat or a sub 3 minute Fran time. Want to be a "Navy Seal Olympic gold medalist wrapped in a fucking suit of body armor?" Straight cash homie. There's no layaway, no online store, and no rewards points. The currency of fitness is blood, sweat, tears, and sheer force of will.

None of us have the cheddar to just write a check or fork over the dead presidents - the price is far too high. We have no choice but to work our asses off in the CrossFit kitchen to pay for our dinner. We pay the tab in advance with dead lifts and burpees...pull ups and snatches. If you want to be a fire-breathing beast and run through walls like the Juggernaut on a trenta black-eye, you're gonna have to hurt first. Pay up front, sucka.

Choose the Wrench - The T-shirt

2011-10-25T16:56:00.001-04:00

1st event at the N.E. Team challenge at CF Milford

Choose The Wrench, a concept inspired by dialog from an acting tour de force between Robin Williams and Matt Damon. A blog post that while heartfelt and earnest caught me by surprise...even though it came from within. I'm still blown away by how strongly this resonated with the CrossFit community. It reverberated for months, like that KISS concert you went to and sat in the front row with no ear plugs.

Team Wrench at CF Milford

Judging by the comments and emails I've received over the last year, it's much more than that. It's been a rally cry for many, myself included. Almost immediately, a T-shirt was suggested....not a bad idea. Well its taken long enough, but it finally happened.

It's a way of life. A conscious decision to take not the path of least resistance, but to instead take the hard road and make yourself better for the journey. Choosing the wrench is how you become badder than Chuck Norris and Robocop wrapped in the T-1000.

Introducing the 1st ever, DBF T-shirt....Choose the Wrench.

Check out the teeth and nostrils....WRENCHES

Back

Front

Women's Back

Women's Front

CrossFit 951. Mike the owner is definitely getting a shirt gratis

It's a tri-blend 50/25/25 American Apparel Track Shirt, printed front, back, and sleeve. I'm selling them at cost right now, as I didn't create these to make a profit, I made them because they're FUCKING AWESOME and I refused to compromise on quality of the shirts, or design. They're $29 + plus shipping. I've created a Paypal account to handle the ordering. There are still some left, and I'll be getting another order of them in very soon!

If you'd like to order the CTW shirt, just click the "buy it now" button on the upper left hand side of the blog!

Team Choose the Wrench

2011-10-19T20:12:00.000-04:00

Oh, don't forget the post script below...announcement!

Once again I find myself nigh the eve of battle, headed to meet an unknown foe. I know the tasks that await, but not the opponent. This time is different. This time It's not my battle to fight alone. No, this time there are four of us. This weekend we will set out on a journey to Milford, CT and the Garage Games team competition.

It's certain that the competition will be difficult, but the dynamic is radically different. A team competition brings out the best in everyone. Especially those of us who were first drawn to CrossFit because the group/team feel that the workouts bring. It reminded me of football practice, way back in the days of yore. A place, a time, and a task that was so difficult, so emotionally invested that it created bonds which can't be explained in written or spoken language.

F that, I'm weirder than Vincent Price on LSD

There's people I walked the gridiron with that I haven't seen in ten years. But, if they walked in the door right now it'd be like they never left. There's something there, something intangible that's shared betwixt those who've suffered together in a noble cause - for victory. We experience this in CrossFit as well - it's what makes us what we are - but that bond is strengthened like a tempered blade when it's forged in the fire of adversity.

This weekend at a gym in Connecticut, many more such bonds will be tied. Each team that competes and truly fights their hardest for each other will feel that strength. A strength that can only be wielded by those who would die for whom they fight with. It's a shared force that's never as strong without the whole of the group that created it, and it is powerful beyond measure.

Maybe I'm an oddball (actually F that, I'm weirder than Vincent Price on LSD) but I've never been able to surpass or even match the levels of intensity that I've reached when fighting shoulder to shoulder with a team. I can get to beast mode on my own, sure. On a team though, there's more at stake than when you're flying solo - but it's not because you're accountable to them. No, it's because they've given themselves to be accountable to you and to each other...and you will do whatever it takes to honor that gift. It happens when a group comes together and collectively chooses the wrench, and goes off to do work.

It's not just me this time, so like a boss won't cut it. We're a management team of Gordon Gekko style corporate raiders hell bent on domination. We're taking this thing down like a board of directors heavily laden with stock options...wrenches in hand.

I look forward to sharing the field of battle with such a great team this weekend, and I have the utmost confidence in all of them. Not just of their ability, but of their resolve to perform beyond what that ability would dictate by itself. I look forward to doing my part as well, and to being able to go beyond what I thought was possible. That's the greatest reward of being a part of a team - what their performance can inspire you to. Through the strength of those who will walk the path with you, a level can be reached that was previously unknown. I can't wait to go to that place...and I won't be alone.

Team CTW - Geoff Leard, Ali Leblanc, Jodie Cohen, and myself - is rolling to Milford this weekend like a board of directors.

P.S. We're sporting the "Choose the Wrench" t-shirts as our game jersey's this weekend. Yup, they FINALLY happened...but there's a very limited quantity on the first run so let me know if you want one. I'll get some pictures of this bad-ass shirt up here as soon as I pick them up (Thursday hopefully!)

When Life Gives You 'Lemon

2011-10-17T14:29:00.000-04:00

...Wrap your elite ass in it.

Lululemon knows how to wrap bums.

In CrossFit we constantly seek to improve ourselves in the gym. Without any extra effort, and most times totally unaware it's happening...we soon extend this fitness six sigma to the rest of our lives, often leaving no stone unturned. We become obsessed in a way...ok, not in a way, we're just fucking obsessed. In any case, the drive to extend the influence of our increased performance is as limitless as Kim Jong Il's thirst for power and height.

There's the big, poignant, obvious stuff like career, family life, health, etc. There's also other, seemingly insignificant things that improve dramatically along with our Fran times, often without us realizing them. Appreciation is a big one. By filtering out all the bullshit, as we do in CrossFit...a la Fight Club we're able to focus more on the things that matter. Even in things that don't "matter" as much, we hold a higher standard than we did before - "good enough" just isn't anymore.

I had such an experience one Saturday afternoon with a fellow CrossFitter in Cambridge Massachusetts, at Mr. Bartley's Burger Cottage. As we sat on the street across from the ivy covered iron gates in the shadow of Harvard University, I suddenly began to appreciate the amazing culinary experience that we had engaged. Bartley's makes the best, and most creative burgers anywhere in Boston...and has been a local landmark since 1960. It's a treat for anyone, but I think we enjoyed it a little more richly than the other patrons did that day.

But a small sample of what Mr. Bartley's has to offer.

As crossfitters most of us eat pretty clean diets - yet another example of that constant improvement - so, when we do indulge in something that's about as good for our bodies as a cyanide fizzy, we enjoy it much, much more than we did in our pre-CrossFit lives. You're not going to settle for a shitty burger from McDonald's....you're going to hold out for the good stuff. If you're going to poison yourself with something delectable it's going to be the best of the best of whatever that is - Bartley's Burgers, not BK. If you're going to do something that you'll pay for later, it's going to be worth it. I assure you, Mr. Bartley's is all that and more.

How it feels to put Lululemon pants on.

As we become less accepting of sub-par parts of ourselves, so we do in others and in the things we choose. That could be a burger, a cookie, or clothes. I remember scoffing at people who were paying $100 for Lululemon pants. How I finally bit the bullet on that one is a story for another time, but the end result is the same. You've suffered to forge an elite ass, and now you're looking for something to wrap it in. Burlap isn't going to cut it, and Skidz (definition #2) aren't going to show it off. Enter the Luon(tm) swaddled CrossFit bum. These pants, and the rest of their gear for that matter are pricey...but the quality is unmatched. I've climbed up and down a rope for 2yrs in a pair of those pants, done countless barbell movements, etc. There isn't a rip, pull, or snag anywhere on them. If you're going to spend a lot of time in, on, or with something (or someone), it might as well be the best, and make your ass look fucking amazing at the same time.

Heart Begets Heart

2011-10-05T16:07:00.001-04:00

We make compromises and deals with ourselves and the world around us all day, every day. Some of these are as inconsequential as Snooki. (i.e. I didn't have ANY fat today, so I'm putting cream in my coffee...suck it.). Some require more thought and careful consideration as to our goals and desired end state. There isn't necessarily a right or wrong, there's simply a choice. Do I want to make great strides in fitness? Or, perhaps in this moment I'd rather eat this cookie (again, suck it).

Here I am, this is me...it goes all the way to the bone.

There's more to give here, MIGHT be posing for the camera...

These decisions we make affect us at our core when taken in total. The small choices might seem as innocuous as an odorless fart at the time, but add up an entire year of those decisions and you could be crop dusting the bible belt. There's one particular brand of decision that's more interesting than all the rest - How hard will I go?

The answer to that question holds sway over everything we do. What we decide to eat, what we do with our free time, relationships, CrossFit, etc. How much of yourself you're willing to give to a thing determines how much you'll ever get from it in return - it also tells the rest of the world a great deal. It shows how much that thing means to you...how important it is. Of course, there's an ongoing risk vs. reward analysis that we conduct subconsciously. However, you need to weigh the perceived gains against what you must chance to get them.

If you want to be a fire-breathing monster in the gym you're going to have make some executive decisions. If you want to find your soul mate, you'll need to expose your true self in a way that can be very dangerous to your ticker. This is where intensity vs. reward comes into play. Perhaps not so intuitively, these things are not all that different. If you want to do Fran in two minutes, you're going to have to go to a place of physical pain and suffering that demands that you cease to care about everything going on around you. You're going to HURT...and everyone is going to see it. The moment where you almost quit, but don't...will be as immediately apparent as Richard Simmons at a power lifting meet.

You can be that brilliant, unflappable hero - iconic and perfect - but you'll have to forego much to do it.

If you only want to do Fran in four minutes, it's not going to hurt as bad. You can probably get through that looking like a boss the whole time, and no one around will you be the wiser. They'll think, "Wow....that girl is a warrior, it didn't even look like that hurt her." In reality you know the that's true - It didn't really hurt. If you're ok with that, it's not wrong it's just a choice. You still turned in a great performance, albeit not the best. You didn't get hurt though...you traded some intensity for the paper facade of self-inflicted comfort. You looked calm, poised, and strong. Never once did your weakness show, and you weren't exposed. That's ok. You can stay invincible by not wearing your heart on your sleeve.

It's being true to yourself in an emotional and interpersonal sense. If you don't give much of yourself, you're never going to get banged up. However, you're also never going to feel much of the good stuff. You can't have a truly deep connection with another person (friendly or romantic) if you never share anything of yourself. You can be that brilliant, unflappable hero - iconic and perfect - but you'll have to forego much to do it. You'll never reach that level of intensity and openness - it's a sliding scale. The more you open up, the more you share yourself the more richly you can experience those connections. But there's a catch. In showing all of your imperfections and humanity you can get burned like Freddy Kruger - crispier than a Harvard Square resident.

When there's nothing left to give, it's just you - the real you.

The precipitous fall from this ledge tastes as foul as Gary Busey's mouth on Monday morning. This leaves most of us guarded - both in the gym and in life. It varies by degree to be sure, but there are very few of us who are willing to lay it all on the line, shoulder the possible, even likely ass-pounding we could take for it, so that we might receive the most glorious of pay offs. It all comes back to the decision we made before we started - how hard will I go? This doesn't really boil down to whether or not you're a pussy - we have largely divergent tolerance to risk in matters of the heart - which both of these certainly are.

It's when the bar is against your shins, and you just don't fucking care what happens to you...you might eat shit, you might flame-out... You could start crying from the searing pain, or just totally fail to complete the task, but you don't give a fuck. You're all in. People will see you suffer, struggle, and look anything but powerful. They'll see you come millimeters from complete emotional collapse...hell, you might even shit yourself - but you DON'T care. That's who you are, and you're living in the moment. You're risking exposing who and what you're really about to those around you so that you might achieve something great. Maybe you don't cut it though, maybe you fall short of that goal. There's heartache involved in being so utterly exposed, and not getting what you wanted - it's gonna hurt like a Japanese Game Show - but there's nobility in that.

Holding on to the shores of safety in a tempest will let you live to fight again, but it won't let you see what's beyond the waves. All it can give is a smug, scar-free outward appearance. While that saves face and looks nice on camera, it also makes you colder and deader inside than a frozen stripper. It's like being emotionally unavailable with friends and loved ones. This is an easy comparison because we've all been here before, on one side or the other. It's a sure way to avoid a broken heart, but it's also a defacto guarantee that you'll never feel any warmth yourself either. The intensity you give to a workout is analogous - bare your soul to the room...to the barbell, and really show what's inside, win, lose, suffer, shit, or cry. Risk nothing, gain nothing.

You can't fake it, it's all over your face.

I post that if you haven't been here yet, you're not even at 25% of your potential. We've all been on the ground, exasperated, suffering after a WOD. But, if you've never been on the verge of crying your eyes out - you're clinging to the shore. Let. fucking. go. If you never get burned, you'll never know just how far you could have gone if you hadn't hedged your bet because you were afraid to look foolish. People see this, and they know it's real. We're drawn to that. Those you care about in the gym, and elsewhere understand and are inspired by that level of heart and conviction. Even if the worst of the worst comes to pass, they will be there to get you through it.

I've been there more times than I care to count. For me, it might be a fatal flaw that I'm not more measured in how much I put out there for the world to see. I've been roasted for it - in the gym and in life. I've risked though, and I'm better for it. I wouldn't trade one second of the moments of clarity, achievement, and true connection I've felt for an eon of security and cold, sterile safety. People have seen me on the verge of tears in the gym (and other places I'm sure) because I gave all I had, and I just couldn't hold it together anymore.

Some people laugh at that. I feel bad for them, as they'll never understand why some of us go so far. They've never felt what it's like there, and unless they change their way of thinking they never will. I'll keep doing it...because I know that there are kindred who'll go with me. Those are the people I want to be around in the gym and everywhere else. No barriers, no insurance, no safety net. Just balls out, all-in, caution-be-damned intensity. Here I am, this is me...it goes all the way to the bone.

-DBF

What Do Ya Bench?

2011-09-30T16:07:00.000-04:00

Whattya Bench chief?

Whattya Bench?

One of the oldest, most cliched, ubiquitous, and also irrelevant questions from the globo gym era. You remember it, right? Standing around the free weight area at the gym on a Monday - international chest & tri's day - and listening to people with artificially puffed out chests and ILS (invisible lat syndrome) talk about what they're doing for sets, and asking, "How much ya bench?" Looking at this behavior in retrospect initially seems as goofy and awkward as a Sarah Palin Porn - something best left just outside the bounds of the conscious.

Sort of like that time a girl let you buy her a drink, and then she walked away and gave it to her boyfriend. It makes us cringe and feel uncomfortable because we've done it, and none of us want to remember it. Alas, you did it (so did I) and we're stuck with it, so we might as well understand why.

Fran is the bench press of CrossFit. People know each others times, it's the social yardstick of the CrossFit world.

It's a measuring stick...something everyone in your environment does and therefore provides a standard or metric by which inhabitants of that environment can compare themselves. These scales exist in every part of society...think job status, level of income, how good your kids are at sports, etc. They may be petty, shallow, or otherwise as tasteless as the Jersey Shore, but it's human nature to compare yourself to your neighbor. As long as it's not done with malice it's also not harmful, and needn't be taken too seriously.

We CrossFitters have a pretty lofty opinion of ourselves, but we're not exempt from the same behavior. While we claim exemption from determining self-worth based on physical appearance, or absolute strength (like bench press)....we have no problem obsessing over CrossFit benchmark workouts - especially Fran. Right or wrong (and mostly wrong), people have always put their Fran time on a pedestal above most other workouts - Fran is the bench press of CrossFit. People know each others times, it's the social yardstick of the CrossFit world.

But why do we wear our Fran time on our sleeve, but not Helen, or Elizabeth? It's arguable that considering the time domain, and the slightly more varied modes that Helen is a better test of fitness, in fact many feel it's the ultimate test of Metcon and the glycolytic energy pathway. So what's Fran's fuckin' deal? Well, it's all about the power.

Power, both real and imagined. In the mathematical sense and in the figurative Skeletor taking over Eternia sense - that's what makes the difference. Fran is powerful, physically, because it's one of the highest intensity workouts we can possibly do. It taxes your system in such a way that you can sustain inhuman power output for a very short time. In a literary sense Fran captivates us because it is a living, breathing abbreviation of CrossFit. It's what you would show someone if you could, when they asked you, "What's CrossFit?" - THIS IS - and show them people doing Fran like a boss. The workout's brutality and brevity are almost indescribable. It's just so astonishing that we can hurt ourselves that badly in such a short period of time (2 days later, and I'm MORE sore). The workout is short lived because it has to be. Nothing that intense can last for very long.

45 Butterflies to freedom...

Fran is a good old fashioned prick waving wrapped in CrossFit (and bacon), but it's all in good fun - and for good reason. It showcases some important things both to us, and to those who are not yet "us." It's a workout of pure, unadulterated power production that displays the best of what CrossFit has to offer. Functional movements done at the highest of intensity, that can only be sustained by sheer force of will that would give Winston Churchill a big rubbery one. It's fast, hits harder than a dump truck loaded with nitroglycerin, and looks almost as painful as it is.

Why wouldn't it be a standard by which people measured themselves. Many people try to downplay its importance, but socially it's an inextricable part of our CrossFit cult(ure). It speaks volumes to mental toughness, and dedicated training and it really lends itself to a celebratory beer after a nice Puerto Rico. It's actually heartening to think that the day is fast approaching when dudes sizing you up will never again ask you how much you bench. The day is coming...when you will walk up to a girl in a bar and say, "Hey, so...What's ya Fran time?"

The Devil Went Down to Natick

2011-09-27T16:04:00.000-04:00

The fight against yourself in the gym...might not just be against yourself...

The devil went down to Natick, he was looking for a soul to steal
He was in a bind, he was way behind, and he was lookin' to make a deal
He came across a young man yankin' on a barbell and droppin' it hot.
And the devil jumped up on a plyo box and said: "Boy let me tell you what:
"I bet you could've guessed it, but I'm a Firebreather too,
"And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you.
"Now you got a pretty good pull boy, but give the devil his due:
"I bet a kettlebell o' gold against your soul, 'cause I think I'm better'n you."
The boy said: "My name's Daigle and it might be a fail,
"But I ain't backed down yet, your gonna regret, 'cause CFNE kicks fuckin' tail."

Daigle chalk on up your hands, breathe fire and grip that bar
Hells been raised in Natick and the devil's wants a PR.
And if you win you get this shiny kettlebell of gold,

A shiny Kettlebell of gold...

But if you lose, the devil gets your soul.

The devil grabbed up his bar, and said: "I'll start this show."
And fire furled from his nostrils as he set up for the row.
He pulled the chain hard and fast, and it made an evil woosh.
Then a homeboy demon cheered in, and sounded like a douche.
When the devil finished, Daigle said: "You're pretty bad ol' son.
"But sit down on that box, right there, and let me show you how its done!"

The gym's on fire, row boys, row.
The devil's in the box and he wants to fuckin' go.
Crushin' cleans, like a boss, and swings like a champ

Game so tight it makes all the girls damp.

The devil took a knee because he knew he'd met defeat,
He laid that golden 'bell on the ground at Daigle's feet.
Daigle said: "Devil, come on back if you ever wanna WOD again,
I done told you once, you son of a bitch, 'NE's the hardest there's ever been!"

Winning

2011-09-22T15:11:00.000-04:00

The Garage Games are this weekend. If you're competing, you've already won...understand that. Especially if this is your first CrossFit Competition. Throwing your hat in the ring will do more for your training and perception of your own abilities - inside the box and out - than anything you can do in the gym. I've talked about competition ad nauseum here, but it can't be stressed enough. What you are about to undertake is epic and if you let it, it will bring change as profound as the transformation from Chastity to Chaz Bono only way, way better looking.

Instead of re-hashing the rigors and emotional depth of competition yet again, this time it might be better to revisit where we've been competitively, as to better understand where we're going. But first, I'd be remiss if I didn't leave some overly dramatic inspirational verbiage to round things out...

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us...
- Marianne Williamson

This rather obscure, and often mis-attributed quote is deeper than the gulf between vegans and I. We're not afraid that we aren't good enough, or that we don't have what it takes. We're afraid of what will happen when we show what we're really made of, when we let who we really are come through. The author continues;

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do....It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

By allowing ourselves to bare that part of us which most frightens us, we'll find that it's not the black tarry mess that we fear others will judge. When we find the courage to show that face the sun, we learn that it's a gleaming, perfect expression of the best in all of us. That's what we find when we "go to the place" in the middle of a WOD. When we choose the wrench, when we shift into "beast mode" we're using our grittiness to expose the brightness that lies beneath.

The things we do to get amped, psyched, and keyed up to kick ass like a donkey's and kangaroos fighting to the death are a means to let that hidden part of us out into the open. People are afraid that showing that much of themselves leaves them vulnerable, and if it's not good enough they'll be exposed and ruined. This couldn't be further from the truth, as in the quote above; "...as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same." It doesn't expose us, it empowers us - it's such a strong catalyst that it can't help but inspire and empower those who witness it to do the same.

This weekend, let that part of you loose. Give you're best, so that those fighting along side you can find theirs. Be great, be powerful beyond measure. Most importantly, compete with honor.

Here's some of the pre-competition posts if you need extra motivation.
Cheat Code for CrossFit
Prepare for Glory
Choose the Wrench
Be a Prick-Face (first timers guide to competing)
May The Force Be With You

Gettin' Paid

2011-09-19T15:57:00.000-04:00

We use a lot of words to describe the structure and mechanics of hard work. We focus and concentrate on the task so we can win the day like Delta Tau Chi at a parade. This is right, and it's the way to get things done, it brings results. So much effort, force of will, and discipline goes into focusing on being excellent in the moment, and not chasing the reward or the end result - and we're well served by that - but the reward is also significant and worth acknowledging.

Cookies are a handsome reward...

Acknowledgment, yes. Not pursuit. Chasing the spoil makes not the victor. Our focus is definitely in the right place but sometimes I think we go too far, as to pay no mind to the spoils of our effort. Why do we do this? Is it because we're afraid of how others will judge us if we make mere mention of a reward? I think that's certainly part of it. And, like so many other things we worry about, no one is a harsher critic of us than ourselves. It's doing a disservice to yourself to consciously disavow gains in favor of the task. However, the line can be a blurred by the nature of CrossFit. A large part of our "reward" and the satisfaction we get lies in the performance of the task itself - our reward is just getting to do the damn workout.

But that's not all we get...there's more. We know this, it's an obvious truth. However, we don't spend much time talking about it, and therefore not nearly enough time appreciating it. We get fitter, stronger, better looking naked (well, not me, but most people), and more confident. We learn to enjoy things that are seemingly unrelated to fitness - like family and friends - more richly. We get to feel amazing and accomplished after a hard fought battle with "Murph" or "Eva." Then we get to take that sense of elation and use it to help us see the rest of our day through sweaty, rose-colored lenses. This stuff is important.

Strangely, THIS is payment in our world.

We need to feel good about ourselves, it's part of how our human consciousness works. The leap is that it is ok to do it. Giving yourself a pat on the back is alright now and again, and accepting praise and accolade is part of winning with grace. It's an integral part of conducting oneself honorably - just as accepting defeat with dignity is. You don't want to be a fucking mercenary either though, and choose the challenge by the what the reward could be - balance is elemental to this dynamic.

At the end of the day, the WOD, the challenge, whatever the task might be - get paid. Make sure you get something for your troubles. We can try to seem outwardly as noble and chivalrous as Don Quixote, but if we live that way we will ultimately end up a sad sack of shit as he did. In the middle of a WOD you're going to be in more pain than party guests of the Marquis De Sade whether you push harder or not...So you might as well make it worth your while and cash the check. Operate independently of the suffering, and take whats yours.

Accept the reward with grace, and move on. Enjoy the richness and contrast that it provides to life - it's healthy, it's CrossFit, it's what we do. You might enjoy a PR, and all the good-games, pats on the back, and atta-boy's that go with it. Maybe you'll smugly strut across the beach showing off all that "elite fitness" you just forged. Perhaps you're sitting outside with the sun on your face, enjoying a restful afternoon coffee after a WOD well done. You could be just hangin' with your fellow CrossFitters telling war stories....after all, the friends...that's the richest reward life has to offer.

Mind What Matters

2011-09-15T21:01:00.000-04:00

From time to time I get caught up in the daily grind and get bogged down by details and other bullshit that doesn't really matter. The next thing I know, I've completely forgotten what I was doing and more importantly the direction I was moving in.

THIS is what matters.

Direction - man, that's something not to be lost sight of. If things get too murky and you can't see where you're going, you have no idea what direction you're traveling, let alone which one you should be headed. Complacency is at the root of this state. I'd do well to never become complacent, lest the bullshit drown me in it's rank morass.

I'm talking about remembering to take out the garbage, fold the laundry, mail that stuff, mediate this argument, solve employee grumbles, do mobility like a boss, and change your oil. These things can start to take over - if you let them - but they just need to get dealt with. It can go even deeper though; Relationship problems, responsibilities, work, etc. They all conspire to steal from you the meaning which you have so earnestly wrought with the sweat of your brow and steadfastness of nerve. The meaning that makes life worth living.

The meaning is THIS. It's what you're doing today in the gym, with your family, over a cup of coffee, whatever. Living in the present with the people who are important to you - that's what fucking matters - not the tear on your hand, or the passive-aggressive phone calls at work, squabbles with S.O,'s, or the pile of laundry sitting in the hamper spawning god knows what new forms of life. That shit just doesn't matter.

I started noticing the bullshit taking over earlier this year, and it has a tell - I stopped hearing the music. I mean that both literally and figuratively. I could listen to music, but I was having trouble hearing it. I was so out of focus that even the most moving and beautiful of ballads had no effect on my mood. If I'm skipping forward two-thirds of the way through the Indigo Girls cover of Romeo and Juliet, something isn't right. That song should talk to you, even if you're Chuck Norris on NyQuil and Sudafed. In a more imaginative sense, you should be able to hear the "music" or whatever it is that truly matters to you above the din. If you can't, hit the pause button, take a breather, and readjust the volume. Drown out the nonsense with the music.

It's just noise, and it's drowning out the messages I needed. It's shit that needs to get stuck in the lint trap of life. What's left when you open the dryer door is warm, fluffy and smells fucking amazing; it's the stuff that matters. Family, friends, your children, and you're fellow crossfitters. These not only give a compass to regain direction, but also provide that direction themselves.

The stuff that matters - the people - will give you everything you'll ever need or want. They'll carry you through when you need it, and you'll carry them. You'll laugh, you'll sweat, you'll talk about that time you did triple Franabelleamurph with a 100lb weight vest on. You'll bleed, you'll puke, you 'll probably even shit and it'll be hilarious. So stop wasting energy trying to listen to everything else. The time Ben, Mat and I lost our shit in the middle of a room full of people during a serious presentation - this is what really matters. It's the stuff that makes life worth remembering, and it's all because of people.

I need to refocus myself on jumping through the ceiling when someone gets their first pull up. Doing a back flip and going out for celebratory beers when someone gets their first muscle up after a year of trying. Relishing in the successes and accomplishments of those I care about, and hearing what they're saying. It's time to plug the music of life into an Amp that goes to 11, and use a Q-tip in a manner other than directed to remove the waxy build up of bullshit from my ears and be done with it. It's time to start hearing what's important again.

Like a Boss

2011-09-13T16:19:00.001-04:00

The "Like a Boss" meme has become overwhelmingly popular. This is one of the finest expressions of guy humor in recent memory. The concept though, applies to much of what we do in life and in the gym. You need to crush your [insert something here] like a boss.

It was meant for a laugh, but it's definitely the way to handle your shit. What does it mean to be a "boss" though? There should never be a question if you're in control of the situation. You have to run the show, and look like you do - even when you don't - if you catch my drift. You need to step into a room and just own the floor. Anyone can do it when they're already kicking ass. If you don't you might be slower than a chromosomaly deficient three-toed sloth in Antarctica. The real trick is being a boss when you might not actually be a boss.

If you handle things like a boss when they're better than watching the Wizard of Oz as high as the Burj Khalifa, synced to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, then you're only acting as a consequence of your emotional state. It has to be a habit, simply a normal way of conducting business. When it's simply a matter of course things seem to fall into place - it's like pissing victory.

It's being a professional - in the James Bond way, not the red light district way. Acting like you've been there before, like the small stuff matters about as much to your day as the color of your turds, is the key to exuding that quiet confidence and deftness of action that leads to achievement. Gritty determination to get the job done without regard to your personal comfort. You're not here to shoot the shit and play around. You're here to conduct business like Gordon Gekko on a bad day.

Seal Team 6 walks like a Boss.

The WOD gets posted, ok. The WOD gets changed 5min before you start it...don't even flinch, who cares. Hit it like a boss - stone faced, and confident. Why not, you're in charge here, not the task at hand. You need to impose your will, and let it be known that whatever the challenge or situation is, it's getting dealt with like a drunk guy that touched your girlfriend at the bar.

You have to be the decider. The final word belongs to you in all situations. Not with arrogance, or pretense, or malice - but with reserved focus, dignified confidence, and resolve to continue until you've succeeded. You don't walk up to a 500lb barbell, and pick the shit up all wishy-washy. You walk up like it interrupted your board meeting and messed up the TPS reports, and break your foot off in it's ass. That's how you do it like a boss.

Act like a Boss - Like Seal Team 6 - like you're the CEO of Ass-Kick Incorporated.

Rock You Like a Hurricane

2011-09-06T15:25:00.001-04:00

Or, more accurately a slightly exaggerated tropical storm. Once again, the media blew something so far out of proportion it should have been covered by Geraldo Riviera. Hurricane Irene was about as catastrophic in New England as that snowstorm for which they cancelled everything a day in advance last winter - and then it snowed about 1/2". Brilliant. In any case, it was a perfect opportunity to re-root ourselves in what matters.

What is it that matters? Is it a .075 nanosecond PR in Fran, or a 1/2lb improvement in your CrossFit Total? No, it isn't. It isn't "something" at all, it's someone. People are what really matters - the people we care about. For some reason, it seems like nothing brings us close together like the media-hyped artificial melodrama of low-grade natural disasters.

Having had the chance to do this during "hurricane" Irene, I think we should make a habit out of it - sans swirling winds of death and driving rain. First we had to brave the downed branches and power lines to find an open restaurant for our Sunday breakfast. As most places had, the venerable Central St. Cafe had closed its doors, rather than face the wrath of Irene and suffer the consequences of "leafmaggedon" 2011. Perhaps it's something to do with the camaraderie of hunting for things (like an open diner) that makes people feel this way. Maybe, it's figuratively huddling for shelter and eating comfort food while the world gets torn up outside.

Whatever it is, I'm glad it happens. Every now and then you need to be reminded how simple life and happiness really are. All you need is some friends or family. If you add a kitchen to that mix, things get even better.

Four friends, some really unhealthy food, a mixer, and a toaster oven. One part peanut butter, one part sugar, two parts ground beef, three parts bacon, and a half dozen donuts. Mix all of it together for nine hours, until the smoke alarm goes off. There you have it - what really matters.

Sitting around, laughing with friends, enjoying the company of those close to you. It's like the Snuggie of life - a little awkward at times, but indescribably warm and cozy. What else could you ask for?

Stranger in Your Own Home

2011-08-23T10:26:00.000-04:00

If you've ever woken in bed with a start, or found yourself suddenly disoriented in your kitchen then you know the feeling. Something has changed, something tangible... but you're not quite sure what it is. You just know that you can feel it, and what was a warm welcoming, familiar place is now changed in some small, barely perceptible way - it's just different.

On Monday afternoon, when I walked through the garage door at CrossFit New England for the 1.05 x 10^12 time, things felt....changed.

This can happen anywhere, at any time. At home, at work, at the gym. It's not a feeling caused by a 45lb plate in the middle of a stack of 25's. It isn't brought on by the dearth of chalk on weightlifting Wednesday. It's not a result of things being out of place. It's not because of "something" at all - It's because of Someone.

We'll all feel like this at some time or other. Sometimes it'll be bitter-sweet, some it'll be downright bitter. The only thing that's constant is that things from that point forward are changed - different in an immeasurable but distinct way.

Mat brought the wood at the games.

It's most true when the someone that's missing has had a profound effect on everyone around them. When that person, through their own endeavors, dedication, honesty, and passion for what they love has enriched you and others - and emboldened those people to do the same. This is Mat Frankel.

CFNE is the best gym in the world, but we remember how we got there

On Monday afternoon, when I walked through the garage door at CrossFit New England for the 1.05 x 10^12 time, things felt....changed. It was quieter than normal. The same smell of stale sweat, suffering, and accomplishment greeted me at the door, but Mat did not. It was the same barbells, the same floor, the same rowers...but it felt like a different place.

A little less than three years ago, I met Mat Frankel for the 1st time. He was kid. Just out of college, doing a just out of college job. He had found CrossFit and fell in love with it immediately, just as I did, at CFNE of all places. He had big dreams, and a big heart - he was instantly part of our amazing community. Over the coming months and years he became a bigger and bigger part of our lives - both in and out of CrossFit - as a coach, a friend, a teammate, and an athlete. His dedication was so strong he missed the best party of all time to get his Level 1 cert.

Mat Fed us.

I remember Mat talking about how he spent most of his day at his regular job printing out CrossFit Journal articles. It was only a matter of time. He was the reason I started eating Paleo. at the Games in 2009, Mat and Elaine did all the cooking, and I just ate what they made - it was AMAZING. That was where the nutrition journey started for me. I'm sure every one of you can tell a similar story

Many of the members at CFNE knew Mat before anyone else. He was many people's first CrossFit coach. Almost always doing the 5:30pm class, Mat's been a fixture in my day forever. Moving on to start his own Affiliate - something he talked about the very first time I ever spoke to him back in 2009 - is amazing, and I couldn't be happier for him. CFNE is the best gym in the world, but we remember how we got there.

Home feels a little different today than it did yesterday, but it's still home.

Best Throwdown team of all-time.

We'll survive - and thrive - of course...but we'll miss Mat more than written or spoken words can say. I know that Mat will create yet another amazing CrossFit community at CrossFit City Line, and I can't wait to meet them. Who knows where this journey is taking any of us, but we do know where we've been. Being on that beach in California back in 2009 at our first CrossFit Games, hanging out at the gym doing anything but training, and bringing droves of new CrossFitters into our family at CFNE over the past few years. I'm glad to have had the chance.

Home feels a little different today than it did yesterday, but it's still home. I imagine this is a little like how parents feel when their kids move out or go away to college. I wish Mat the best, and I couldn't be more psyched for him. I know I speak for CFNE when I say, that Mat will be missed as an exceptional athlete, and a trusted coach. One thing won't change though...He'll always be a great friend.

Cheers Matty.

May the Force Be With You

2011-08-11T08:46:00.001-04:00

Holy shit...it's been awhile, hasn't it? I've been busier than James Brown circa 1986 the last 2 months between the gym, work and the CrossFit Games. Enough excuses, let's get to it...

Congrats team CFNE on your world championship!

Training lately, has been more fun than your first keg party. I'm not sure how or when precisely it changed, but most if it stems from a conversation I had with Ben Bergeron awhile back when I was really struggling in the gym. I wasn't performing well, I wasn't feeling great about working out, and mostly I didn't really look forward to WODs - I dreaded them. That's as fucked up as marriages in the backwoods of Kentucky. I love training, or at least I always have in the past. Ben gave me some good advice that I followed, and then good things started to happen.

"Do some wheelhouse workouts. Just do things you like, and feel good about it for awhile."

Instead of beating myself with goats like I was a card carrying member of Opus Dei, I was supposed to do things like the '08 Games Deadlift/Burpee WOD, Fran, Satan's Whiskers, and Scorpion Bowl. Ok...don't threaten me with a good time! Well a funny thing happened - I Puerto Rico'd those mofo's across the board, and the ball kept rolling. After only a few days, maybe a week of being a cherry picker and doing all WODs I liked, I was back to crushing workouts again. Huh...I guess it is all in the mind.

Then, like a thunder bolt from Zeus, Ben hit us with another suggestion about affirmation. He said when a workout is finished, don't just lie on the floor and drift off into the metabolic no-man's land of endorphin bathed gray matter. Instead, reaffirm that you did a good job. Sounds almost too simple to be worthwhile, doesn't it? Just tell yourself how good the effort was and that you pushed as hard as you could. Let yourself know that you just got better. Well I figured, what could that hurt.

...something cooler than Iceland Annie's homeland happened - It became a self fulfilling prophecy

I remember doing it, and feeling much better about what I had done...I would have known I did a good job regardless. But, after doing this for only a short time something cooler than Iceland Annie's homeland happened - It became a self fulfilling prophecy. This is a powerful tool. I became addicted to the positive post WOD self talk, telling myself how good of a job I did - but there's a catch. You can only do this and feel good about it IF you do a good job. So if you're following the logic, you end up pushing even harder and giving that much more effort so that you can engage in that positive affirmation post-workout - that's a self fulfilling prophecy I'll subscribe to.

With this sensation comes the realization that the pain is always waiting - you know it's there

Yoda knows the way of the Force

I'm pretty sure this puts you on the path to becoming a CrossFit Jedi - to learn the way of the Force. I first felt it the last time we tangled with Helen. Because of the positive attitude adjustment from the post WOD review sessions I'd been conducting, and how I felt about working out due to all the wheelhouse stuff, this time was different. If you've been reading this blog for awhile, you know how much I dread Helen. However going into the WOD this time, I didn't feel nervous. I didn't have that knot in my stomach usually accompanying balls-out 400m runs. Instead, I didn't care. I just felt confident and focused on what I had to do. I believed my metabolic capacity was there, and that I would prevail if I just pushed and kept moving. All because I KNEW I was going to put maximum effort forth, so that when I was laying on the floor afterwards, I'd be able to feel good about what I'd done..regardless of what it said on the clock.

With this sensation comes the realization that the pain is always waiting - you know it's there - and it will find you. It doesn't matter if you dog the workout, or go 110%, you will suffer. The only difference is that if you suffer just a little more now, you will feel joy later. If you don't, you will feel shame. Amazing the corollaries you can draw from this isn't it?

The Force makes HSPU pretty easy.

A Jedi feels the force flow through him, and draws his strength from it. So it is in CrossFit. When you approach training this way, you're operating from core to extremity - the way we always should - but in a figurative, maybe even spiritual sense. You understand your task, which is to push your limits. This is independent of the WOD, because now your strength flows from within - you're using the Force. It doesn't matter whether the WOD is Murph, Eva, Fran, or 1rm Deadlift - you don't care - you approach it the same way, with the same intensity. You're going to conduct yourself in a manner that you will be proud of when it's all said and done.

Stop caring what the WOD is, and start caring how you feel.

The Force has as darkside, of course - and at first glance we'd think that it's a good place to go in CrossFit. That's not the case though. This isn't counter to what I've said in the past. The "darkside" that we go to, and use in CrossFit or other sports is useful and helpful. The real darkside is when you stray from the path and use the Force for ill will. Maybe you're still only doing wheelhouse workouts. Maybe you're telling yourself you did a good job when you didn't. If you do this, then you're walking the dark path. Like Obi Wan said, "once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny."

Stop caring what the WOD is, and start caring how you feel. Push for the sake of the push, not for the sake of the clock. If you do, then you'll find that the results on the clock are almost always better than you expected, and even if they aren't you don't care as much because you know you gave it everything you had. Learn the way of the Force - Feel the strength flow from within. Most importantly, have fun in each and every workout.

May the Force be with you.

The Nantucket - Puerto Rico Connection

2011-07-10T17:40:00.002-04:00


This is my hair on CrossFit

Nantucket is a small, quaint, exclusive island playground for the old money of New England, New York, and Jersey which is located off the coast of Cape Cod. Puerto Rico is a warm resort destination and territory of the US. What do they have in common? Not a goddamn thing. Puerto Rico just happens to usually be abbreviated "PR" which of course, is also the short version of "personal record" that is so ubiquitous in CrossFit.

I've spent a fair amount of time on Nantucket over the past 12 years; not because I'm rich, famous, or in anyway involved with the douche bags, buffy's, chad's, or lax-bro's that inhabit the finer establishments there clad in boat shoes, white pants, and izod polos. I just happened to have the good fortune of being close friends and roomates with a Nantucket native in college, and I've been going there during the summer to visit ever since - in fact, it was actually where I discovered CF and did my first WOD.

The connection I'm speaking of here, is between PR's or "Puerto Rico's" and Nantucket. It's interesting, because there sure as as shit shouldn't be one. A few things happen regularly on the island - actually a great many things. None of these things increase your level of fitness in any way. In fact, most of them should kick the bloody piss out of it. We're talking, drinkin', smokin' and all types of ill shit here. Well, except for the smokin' part.

I haven't reviewed my log data yet, but I have a suspicion that generally upon return from Nantucket or any other vacation or debauchery filled expedition, there is a dip in athletic performance. Sounds reasonable enough...However, this was different. I left for the island on last Friday, and returned on Tuesday...about 5 days. During that period I consumed about 50 gallons of mudslides, 10,000 beers, and ate every terrible, fried, non-paleo meal you can imagine. I did do two minor workouts and stretching, but in general I sat on the beach for 4 days straight... a recipe for a CrossFit beating if there ever was one.

I rolled into CFNE Tuesday evening on the way back from Cape Cod, before even going home, to do "Diane." The result was rather unexpected....a 2minute Puerto Rico. Hmmpf. That's peculiar...but whatever I'll take it. Wednesday was just lifting, so no anxiety over that, but still not expecting a PR....but again, Puerto Rico city. I beat my 1 rep max snatch (170) for TWO reps. I snatched 175 x 2. Shit was starting to get weird. I tried chalking it up to the fact that we hadn't gone long, and there was no real running or serious metcon involved yet....just luck of the programming.

Enter the Manhandler. This workout fucking sucks. It's a "Barbara" or "Chief" style 5rounds of 3min amraps which includes 3 thrusters (95lbs), 6 box jumps, and 9 kettlebell swings. The combination is brutal, especially after the 1st round. I hadn't done this WOD in about a year, and was interested to see how I'd fare, especially with the looming Puerto Rico controversy. Despite how badly it decimated the will to continue my stay on planet earth, once again, a 2 round PR. That's 3 in a row, post vacation.....WTF. Friday the WOD posted was "Badger", which would be an excellent final examination of this process, but alas, it was rest day. I resolved that I'd do it over the weekend though, as I needed to defend my title...and I'd feel like I dodged it otherwise.

Saturday's prescription was for Fight Gone Bad. Shit. I need to do that. It's also a great test of work capacity which I hadn't managed a best on in about a year. So I said, fuck it....FGB it is. Welp, here we go again...Once more, Puerto Rico by way of Nantucket - by 39 reps. At this point, I'm thinking, "This is starting to get weird...and it's not doing much for my will to eat clean." I need that like I need another asshole. That was four consecutive, substantial PR's. One more shot, let's see what happens.

Sunday morning there was nothing left to do but take on the "Badger." In my opinion one of the most painful named WODs to ever post on the mainpage. Bubba had beaten my previous PR the day earlier, and while he is headed to the Games to try and win the 45-49 masters bracket, I can't let him take me down in this WOD...so I gave it bloody hell. Funny thing, I wrecked my previous time by more than 3 fucking minutes. The night before, I may have not eaten very well either. I did have a very large, very syrupy cafe mocha, 5 Larabars, a packet of chocolate almond butter, a very large bar of 80% dark chocolate, cashews, and a bag of popcorn - Clearly high-test fuel for a badass workout.

So what the hell is going on here? Is there some causal link? Is it purely coincidental? Is it pattern, or a complete anomaly? I'm gonna do some Sherlock Holmes shit and see. I have 3 years of detailed training data in spreadsheets, enabling me to go back and check to see what has happened all the other times I've fallen off the paleo chuck wagon for multiple days. I don't know for sure what it'll tell me yet, but It's interesting to think about. Of course, the possible implications are dangerous and could be controversial - or they could be boring, erratic, and not tell us anything. I'll have an update soon with that info. In the mean time, have a few beers, some ice cream, some fried mac & cheese, chips, sausage, bread, and a plethora of frozen drinks and tequila, and go visit Puerto Rico with your favortite WOD.

Hold On Loosely

2011-06-29T08:44:00.000-04:00

.38 Special said it best in perhaps their biggest hit, "Hold on loosely...but don't let go..."

Well, FUCK. There's more going on there than in the back room of a bar in Key West at 3am. (Pro-tip...when the bartender in KW tells you there's a gay orgy in the back room.....There is a gay orgy in the back room. Tread carefully here, some things cannot be un-seen.) Not only is this an awesomely hokey 80's song, which can be heard in any bar in America on any night, generally just before Don't stop Believing, it's also telling us something pointed and true, something that permeates basically every corner of our lives.

If you don't heed these words, instead of keeping that which you clench so earnestly...you'll lose everything. The obvious application here is relationships. Don't fucking smother people, they hate that shit. All of us have learned this the hard way. Sometimes it's our fault. Sometimes it's because the other person just isn't ready. Too much all at once almost never works out for you. If you're fuzzy on this concept, eat a pound of almonds and see for yourself.

The song continues, "...if you cling too tightly, you're gonna lose control." Fuckin' A right you will. In everything. Life, CrossFit, Work, Kids, anything.

Grip your Barbell too tightly and you can't get your elbows around fast enough to catch it...missed PR on your clean. Screw that noise. Loosen it up just a little and whip those elbows like you're dropping the bomb on some douche in a bar fight. Loosen up, and gain control.

Not respecting the delicate sensibilities of the pull up bar will fuck up your universe. Failing to properly modulate the intensity of curli-tude of your phalanges will result in ripping your hands like a newb. You're now falling off the bar much earlier, and not getting all the pull ups you should...or toes to bar...or whatever. Fuck that shit...Quit white knuckling and just go with it.

Learning to hold on by letting go - one of the most difficult and necessary things we face as people. You're heart is telling you if you give those hands any slack at all, you're going to come flying off the bar - you won't (Unless you're A.J. Pappas....you have to hold on somewhat dude.) You'll learn to live on the threshold, and to go with the flow - how to slide and adjust on the fly without skipping a beat. Master that, and you never come off the bar. The clean lands squarely and solidly upon your shoulders. The ones you care about get even closer. Hold on Loosely...

Hang not on the precipice, hoping not to fall. Don't play to not lose, play to win. Concentrate on the good, the end state - 50,60, whatever pull ups...a 200lb clean...A healthy, loving relationship. You can't have these things if you're only focused on fighting to not fail at them - which is what you're doing if you hold on too tight. Let it go.

You'll experience and enjoy all these things much more richly and deeply. You're not wasting energy and focus on how tightly you can squeeze, only to have everything slip through your fingers anyways. You're holding on just enough to give these great things their due. They will return the favor.

Kickin' Ass in Canton Mass

2011-06-16T15:14:00.001-04:00

The road to Carson rolls through Canton Ma, and Reebok world headquarters this weekend. I'm sitting here on the sidewalk of the coffeehaus, contemplating the epicness of what promises to be the premier event so far of the 2011 CrossFit Games season.

Also, I'm nervous as a newcomer in an intro to CrossFit class. I've been tasked with the hugely important and very serious role of head judge for the northeast regionals. if you've read the "Judgment Day-gle" article on the games site you know its something I take as seriously as dessert and the New England Patriots - not things I fuck around with.

It will be up to all the volunteer judges, headed up by EC Synkowski, James Hobart, Karianne Dickson, and myself to uphold higher standards than the chicks dining Al fresco on Newbury st in Boston. I'll try and keep updated but no doubt we'll be busier than Heather Bergeron's wardrobe.

Good luck to all competitors, especially Mel "Ockerbeast" Ockerby (the little sis I never had) and all of team CFNE. Go forth, and compete honorably. Punchest thine wods in the neck and claimeth your place.

CrossVictus

2011-06-12T16:24:00.001-04:00

Not that Invictus wasn't perfect as is, but I figured CrossFit should have it's own verse...."invictus" is latin for "unconquered" which is pretty poignant. I'm hard pressed to come up with a succinct translation or defintion for "CrossVictus" so I'll define it as a concept. "CrossVictus" is a state of the character in constant struggle, no matter the outcome. In forcing oneself to live in this state in training, you cannot be conquered or defeated, as the fight will never end - there's always a bigger challenge to face. It's not an easy or comfortable place to be, but it is a place where failure cannot follow.

CrossVictus

Over the pain that consumes me,

Hot as the flame from down below,

I thank those who suffer with me

For the resolve I now will show.

No matter the task appointed

I shall not complain, flinch, or doubt.

Whatever challenge be affronted

I'll meet with the warrior's shout.

Through the hot, dark, tempest of tears

Waits only the next test of verve,

But the trepidation and fear

Seek naught but to harden my nerve.

It matters not how hard the fight,

How fraught the WOD with endless blight,

I am the fighter, stood through the night:

I am the victor, here, in the light.

Just. Hold. On.

Born To Run

2011-06-10T23:17:00.002-04:00

There's honor in fighting an opponent you know you cannot defeat....but not when that opponent is yourself.

We're born to run. We're born to fight. The former is easier, and less offensive to our delicate sensibilities, so that's the path we most often choose. Just as in life, this applies to CrossFit on a smaller, much easier to practice scale. When the shit hits the fan, you have two options....you can fire back or call the cleaning ladies and go home. I don't go home very often....in fact I should learn to do that more - There is a time for that. However, in general we need to do more stand and fight.

It's easier to say, "Well fuck it, I'm not good at double unders anyways." and mail it in. It's tons easier to say, well I don't deserve this prize which has been offered me...I'll just decline the offer.

You've already decided you don't deserve what you seek.

That's running. In the down and dirty of a workout, it might be that it just hurts so much to physically run, that you slow it way down and take it easy. That's running away from the pain...and it's not going to get you want you want - what you deserve. You deserve a PR, or a win, that exasperation of knowing you really did give it all you had.

It's time to stand and deliver, to decide what you deserve.

If you run, you'll not feel joy...nor will you deserve it. See, we always get what we deserve. "Deserve" is a tricky word, a moving target of sort. If you stand your ground and force your way forward you will find what you seek - because of your noble efforts it is deserved. If you run, you will feel like shit later knowing that you gave up what you truly wanted, because you didn't have the stones to stay and fight. Surprise...you deserved that too.

There's another option - you can stay and fight. You can decide that you deserve the goodies. That PR has your name on it. That leaderboard spot is yours for the taking. So as your inner weakness turns to run, stop it cold in its tracks and about face. It's time to stand and deliver, to decide what you deserve. Reach across the void, grab the pain by it's bitch-ass throat and say, "No."

That's where the true power comes from. In CrossFit, in relationships, in school, at work...everywhere. It comes from within, being able to tell yourself what to do - because you love yourself. If you can't honestly say that, you will deserve and receive nothing. You've already decided you don't deserve what you seek. How can you deserve to feel the sun on your face if you don't love you.

There's honor in fighting an opponent you know you cannot defeat....but not when that opponent is yourself. Take a look around you, and recognize the good, and there'll be no reason to run. If others are standing with you and for you (and they are) they can see what you should also see - they aren't just being nice. Realize that it's OK to win. It's ok to be happy. It's ok to score the PR, or get the promotion, or the victory beer. Go ahead try it. Grab life by the balls and feel the power. When you do, you'll understand that you really don't have a choice. All you can do is stand, and fight...because it's the path to what you deserve, and you'll accept nothing less. You may have been born to run, but you are capable of so much more...stand and fight.

What's next...

2011-05-19T09:39:00.000-04:00

Being a Spectator isn't ALL bad...

If you haven't seen it yet, I've done a couple of blurbs for the 2011 Reebok CrossFit Games site. It's been tons of fun so far, and the response has been overwhelmingly positive. I'm psyched like Double-Rainbow guy about it.

I'm wondering what people out there are hungry for. What content or information do you want to gnosh on like it's a tortilla chip covered with chili and cheese? Are there debates that you want to wrangle with like they're Roe. V. Wade, or poignant stories you'll blubber over like you just saw Old Yeller for the 1st time?

I want to know. Who or What needs thickly pop-culture referenced commentary, and melodramatic metaphors wrapped around it like a swaddling of bacon about sea scallops and filet mignon.

Money is stupid. Glory, is not.

What's next? Fill in the blank...."Daigle on ________" on the 2011 Reebok CrossFit Games site.

Vision Quest: The 20-rep Back Squat

2011-05-16T19:35:00.001-04:00

We set out on vision quests more than most ever will. The nature of our training relegates us to a strange sect who are always looking for enlightenment and purification through pain and suffering. It's an integral part of what makes CrossFitters a little....off. However, it's also a key component of why CrossFit is so effective. The vision quest is regarded as a one-time journey to determine one's life path by many native American cultures. For our purposes though, it is a constant re-affirmation of why we're here.

Sometimes we forget what we're doing here. Why do we come to this cube of concrete and steel, filled with stale sweat and raw, unpainted steel? What brings us back to this dungeon of physical exertion time and again to fight a battle we cannot win with an enemy we cannot see? We come for the battle, not for the victory. Even when we're worn out, long past due for a rest day, and unable to recall why, it comes rushing back to us in a flash the second our heart rate revs up to red-line. Soon we find ourselves back in that eerie netherworld between awake and unconscious, and elated to have remembered why.

Speaking from personal experience, it wasn't Jesus that was talking to me... it was the other guy.

Continuously chasing that "out of body" experience we get after laying it all on the floor in "Fran" or "Helen" can be a powerful motivator. Fortunately, that feeling is a direct result of the intensity required to reap the biggest benefits of our training. It's both a reward for and an element of CrossFit - only we don't have to walk across the desert trippin' balls on peyote to get it. The pain is real....it never lies, and it will tell you exactly what you need to hear. What you need to hear might be that you have the power to control the stress at work. Perhaps that you have the ability to make your relationships amazing. It could be that you are powerful beyond your wildest dreams, and you can win the CrossFit Games. It's a different destination for each of us, every day. You arrive there by trying to outrun the pain in "Grace" or by wearing the vest and keeping the pedal to the metal in "Murph", or completing the "man test" that is a 20-rep back squat. In fact, I'd posit that the 20-rep back squat is about the biggest vision quest you can take in a gym.

Deciding what weight to use for a 20-rep back squat is like being the priest in The Exorcist: The Beginning, and being asked by nazi bastards to choose which child will be killed first; it's Russian Roulette with a barbell. Mark Rippetoe once said, "During the last few reps of a true 20RM squat, just do what Jesus tells you." Speaking from personal experience, it wasn't Jesus that was talking to me... it was the other guy.

Since Derek had done the same to me last year, I figured I'd return the favor and add 5lbs to his PR and roll with that. 'Cause, ya know F him (D, love ya buddy!). I slid the plates on, did a sign of the cross, tossed out a few "The power of Christ compels you's" and went forth to meet he who cannot be named under the bar.

At about rep 13 you start getting scared shitless and really winded. It's like that point in a max effort mile, at the beginning of the 3rd lap when you know you're not quitting but you think it's possible you'll die before you finish - fate be damned. Your heart muscle succumbing to the mind numbing speed at which it's working like a ruddy red colored mini Hiroshima and exiting your body nigh the speed of light. At rep 17 you see the shore, and harden with terrible resolve not to be defeated. There's no way you can be stopped now.

There is no fucking way you're not standing up 3 more times.

This just might be the point of the exercise. You've already paid a terrible price -17 soul crushing reps - the cost of failing or quitting now would be immense. There is no fucking way you're not standing up 3 more times. Starting on the descent into the 18th rep you realize that even in this state of wholesale uselessness, bathed in burning lactic acid you can will yourself to continue. The obvious application to, shit, everything is immediate. At rep 19 you've all but declared victory, as no law of physics or biology will steal this moment from you, there is only one more to be done.

You are the toughest you will ever be right now. Kathy Bates could Carlton-Fiske your ankles with hammer of Thor at this moment and you won't falter. When you finally lock out that 20th Rep and dump the bar (if you can make it to the rack, you did it wrong), the tremendous head rush is enough to put you on the floor - and it will. You've gone to the place and back again, and learned something about yourself yet again. Nothing provides an immediate strength gain (nothing safe or legal that is), However, the mental fortitude you take away from this exercise is immediately available, despite your severely disabled body. I recommend trying something that sucks as soon as you're able to walk again. If you complete this vision quest - a true 20-rep max back squat - I don't even care what the weight is...I'd go back to back with you in any bar fight in the known universe, because you are one tough bastard.

The Art of the Win

2011-05-11T12:16:00.000-04:00

Being a bad motherfucker isn't an accident. You don't just show up, and get handed a trophy. Ever notice that kicking ass like Chuck Norris in a crack house seems to happen in streaks? I have...It seems like you get one thing right, then another, and another. Before you know it you can't lose. You're tearing shit up like a doped-up house cat with a roll of toilet paper. We've all experienced this before at work, in the gym, on the field, at the track, in life, relationships, even partying; It's a universal phenomenon. I'll relate two very similar days where this manifested for me lately.

I tore it off the floor like it had just landed on my offspring, unleashing a rebel yell on the ascent to victory.

A few weeks ago, the almighty whiteboard decreed that we would attempt a 1rep max clean. I dig that, and I have some seriously cool new lifting shoes. We needn't belabor the visualization process, so it goes without saying I was thinking in terms of world domination the night before. I walked into CFNE that day with the attitude that nothing and nobody was going to stop me from a clean PR. Not the bar, not the having to lift on the rubber instead of a platform, not the limited time, nothing. So there you had it....I walked up to a 250lb barbell, and "gripped it and ripped it." I tore it off the floor like it had just landed on my offspring, unleashing a rebel yell on the ascent to victory. WIN. Cue the fist pumping and high fives. Then, who's next? Who wants a little?

The power to do these things lies in your will and determination, NOT in your legs or your lungs.

More like sitting on the wrench

Oh, the "Ben" WOD? Don't mind if I do...come get your ass smacked. I like this WOD...a lot. I also haven't done it in well over a year, so I was pumped to give it a go. Instead of feeling Nervous, I thought, "I just cleaned 250lbs...this only weighs 135 and there's some running (maybe shuffling)...it can't stop me." For those of you not from CFNE, "Ben" is 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 of 135lb squat cleans, with a 200m run in between each set. Ya, I sort of like squat cleans. Still high from the big lift, I tore into this one with the mind set that I absolutely would not stop moving or drop the bar. So I did. The pain train rolled to a finish at 16:12, which was a PR by over 2 minutes. If I hadn't developed the aggressive state of mind during the cleans the result could have been much different.

Well that's all well and good, but it was shit I liked. What happens when the WOD is your arch-enemy? The same damn thing, actually, because it's all in your mind. The power to do these things lies in your will and determination, NOT in your legs or your lungs. This brings me to the next example;

Cement Mixer
7 rounds of:

Every 3min , complete a 400m run and 12 toes to bar. You may rest the remaining time if you finish under 3 min. Score is time for the round, or number of t2b if you don't finish.

So you run a 400m, then do 12 T2B as fast as possible. Repeat ad infinitum. I fucking hate this workout. In fact, I freely admit that this is the only workout ever that I've failed to complete multiple times. Once my arm went numb (for real), once I was afraid I'd rip my hands before the Opens WOD, so I bailed at Round 5, once I just flat out stopped and said I'm done. I can't say for sure what it is about this workout that I hate so much - I'm sure the 7rnds thing has something to do with it - but I just struggle to maintain a positive attitude. This time was different though.....I hit it hard, and had a great workout. My runs felt crisp and were very consistent at about 1:30. I've turned in faster individual rounds before, but never an average this good, or as small of a slip from start to finish (only about 15sec). So what was different?

I opted to substitute something else. How about a 20-rep back squat before 1.75miles of running? what could go wrong?

Prefacing the suffering and indignation usually incited by Cement Mixer with an epic win changed the game. What happened before the WOD is what was different. Prescribed on the day was a 20-rep deadlift. Having done 70 deadlifts with 225 the previous day, I opted to substitute something else. How about a 20-rep back squat before 1.75miles of running? what could go wrong? As it turned out nothing, but there were some tense moments for the 20min or so I couldn't walk right.

Having emerged from beneath the bar of doom, victorious, I spent the next half hour trying to restore function in my legs. Thankfully, they came around just before the WOD was about to begin. Then I simply gritted my teeth, got in - and stayed in - the ring. Once again, I hate this WOD like Rich Froning undoubtedly hates anything made from hemp. The same attitude as before washed over me, "I just squatted an epic poundage of iron, an unholy number of times...running and hanging off a bar ain't got shit on me." Instead of just a good aspect, or a single good workout....I had 2 completely dominant performances back to back, on 2 occasions. More proof that winning and excellence are habits, not isolated acts (where was this in the opens?).

I catch on a little slow sometimes. It seems as if this concept has been old hat to many for some time. CrossFit and sports are just easy examples of the universal application of the art of the win. It's present in everything we do. The more positive and re-affirming you are the more you will achieve. It's not an accident. The difference between, "I think" or "maybe" and "I will" or "I own this" is a rift wider than the grand canyon. It's the "how" between getting the dream job, and staying where you're at. It's the power to be happy instead of sullen and depressed.

Check out this bad-jackson. Guaranteed PR.

These are not suggestions, they're incontrovertible facts...and they were taught to me by YOU. The amazing people I've come in contact with over the past several years have proven to me time and again through their actions, that this is the way. Only very recently did I heed these admonitions, and learn a new way to get things done. I see it click in more people from CFNE and other gyms every day too. It starts in the box...next thing you know your 10min Fran is a 3min Fran. Then it spreads...your relationships get better. You become more productive at work. Once you've mastered the art of the WIN, you cannot be stopped.

I don't believe for one second in the spiritual mumbo-jumbo and aura bullshit. This isn't rooted in some mystical power of mind over matter... it's mind over mind. Thinking in terms of positive affirmation all the time, instead of focusing on the negative, will get you what you want. Not because the universe takes pity on you and seeks to reward you for your compliance or some other inane horse shit. It's quite simply because when we act and think habitually in a certain way, as human beings, we both consciously and subconsciously prepare ourselves to assure success in anything we do. It's the antithesis to the "quicksand" phenomena; when one thing goes wrong, then another, and whoa-is-me...another. The thought pattern leads to an action pattern that results in ass-kicking. We win not because we think, but because we do - but we do because of what we think.

Finally

2011-05-02T11:49:00.000-04:00

It might take awhile, but the USA will put a boot in your ass.

It's been almost 10yrs since that sunny September morning in 2001. I'll never forget one instant, it's emblazoned across my memory like stars in the night sky. I'd just turned 21 days earlier, and was living on campus at Western New England College in Springfield, MA. The student body there at the time had a very large number of New York natives, so the panic was fever pitched. I didn't have class that day and was sleeping in when the ballyhoo downstairs woke me up. I came down just in time to watch the 2nd plane hit the WTC live on TV. That's an experience that can't be adequately described with verbiage of any kind - not even metaphors.

Later in the morning, as we were all huddled together trying to figure out what the hell had just happened to us as students, as Americans, as human beings; I got a phone call from my mom. That phone call was a little shaken as you can imagine, and the message was pretty pointed. "John Ogonowski was the pilot of one of the planes."

It's amazing how hard something like that hits you, when you previously felt so insulated from the despair. I'm from north of Boston, and I was pretty sure I didn't know anyone who had fallen that day. Fate it seems, had found a way to connect all of us to that event - regardless of geographic location. John Ogonowski was an American Airlines pilot, and a resident of my hometown, Dracut MA. He was an aquaintance of mine and knew my dad well...John was a well liked, well known guy around town. It floored me to hear that because of some radical history altering event I just watched on TV, he was gone. Not only was he gone, so were thousands of other innocent Americans.

He was the pilot of flight 11, the 1st plane to crash into the twin towers. His family's farm is less than a half mile from where I sit as I write this; there's a large stone memorial placed there. I like that I'm constantly reminded of this every day when I drive past it to and from work. Not to say that the memory of that day could ever fade for me, but it's good to have it kept present, and kinetic so that we don't become comfortable with it or used to it.

John Ogonowski's Memorial in Dracut, on the street I grew up on

I heard the news this morning that Bin Laden had been killed. I'm feeling the same swell of patriotism as everyone else, but my initial reaction was somber - remembering what happened and what I felt that day in 2001. How does this place in that morass of emotions and memories? How does it affect the legacy of September 11th? I suppose that's up to each individual. Is it a measure of justice? I believe it is...although it would have been much more satisfying if they could have caught the prick alive, and slammed his johnson in a car door repeatedly forever. I think it helps bring some degree of closure to that chapter of American history. It cannot, nor can anything, ever make up for the loss on that day. It does help to send a powerful message though. "If you screw with the US, we will make you pay. Even if it takes forever."

We won't celebrate the death of the man, but his being brought to justice. I think that's an important distinction - even though it is fun to satirize. I am guilty as charged on that one of course.

Capt. Ogonowski's family and thousands of others can rest knowing that they finally got the bastard responsible. Nothing's over, and it never will be. There will always be someone to take that seat whenever it's vacated. It does show the resolve of a nation to do what it says it will, though and that is a victory in itself. It's also a success for all those who fought for this cause since that day, many of whom are no longer with us. Their work was not in vain, and it will be continued. It can't bring anyone back, but at least they finally got the bastard.

Turning Wrenches

2011-04-26T17:54:00.000-04:00


CrossFit 951 has Chosen Wisely...How frican cool is that?!

Now, for some shit that kicks major ass and doesn't even want the names. CrossFit 951 in Menifee, California is a legit box run by Michael Houghton. Mike is a former NFL tackle turned CrossFit affiliate, and a hell of a solid guy. Awhile back, one of the messages I received in regards to Choose The Wrench took me aback:

Hey, I read your post and was so impressed that I have adopted it at our gym. Just wanted to let u know, hope its ok with you

Mike Houghton crossfit 951

Of course, I told Mike I thought that was bad-ass...with Ray-Bans. He then told me they were going to paint it on the wall at their box. I had to think about that one for awhile only because I was so blown away by it. I guess flattered is a word I'd use, even though it's kinda fluffy. It's hard to describe what it feels like to see something you wrote emblazoned across the wall of an establishment (a CF box) that stands for everything you love in the world (except peanut butter cups.) That was an EPIC win....and then I got a picture of it, and it was linked on the CrossFit.com Facebook page. Holy shit did that take off...Not only is the concept amazing, but well done too. I can't fucking WAIT to get out there and see it in person - that's virtually a guaranteed PR on whatever WOD is happening. I could do "Karen" in 5min against that wall.

I've been turning wrenches - literally and figuratively - for a long time. Long before internet access was even a god given right, and free wifi was ubiquitous, I was twisting bolts. In an automotive sense I've been building, fabricating, and modifying cars for what seems like an eternity...not to mention drawing the ire of local law enforcement and old curmudgeons shaking their fists at my me from the front lawn. That's neither here nor there. It's the much more ethereal, intangible aspect of the wrench that has concerned me lately.

It still leaves me in amazement and wonder when I see how strongly that concept resonates with people. Many times it's not even for the same reasons, but nonetheless the idea " 'Cause fuck you, that's why" appeals to just about all of us. I can't speak for others and what it means to them, only what it means to me. I've been taking the hard way as long as I can remember. I was a 5'5" 215lb Italian kid that played offensive and defensive line all the way through college. "Why?" people would ask, when it would be so much easier to be a fullback or something (did that briefly actually). When most of the people who played my position were the size of Mr. Houghton, why on earth would I choose to do that? You know the answer to that already....'cause fuck them...that's why! I could've played linebacker or fullback, or something where I wasn't at such a decided disadvantage from the get go. That would be choosing the belt though...and I sort of like this wrench.

I'm deeply respectful of the fact that people can take this and run with it - in a million directions. What seems universal though, is the result. It's a rallying cry that you call upon from the bottom of the pit; when it truly is "out of the night that covers" you. When you're not coming from a position of power and control, but you need to instantly be transported to one..."Choosing the wrench" gives you a platform to leap forth.

That's some heavy fuckin' shit right there.

I want to be clear that I did NOT create this concept, I just wrote a blog about it. I'm blown away by the response this has gotten since just after Christmas. I've received tons of emails, comments, and other correspondence via DBF, facebook, and email about Choose The Wrench. In the real world, I've run into crossfitters at different events from all walks of life - young, old, new, veteran, etc - who made mention those few words lit a match under their soul. That's some heavy fuckin' shit right there. When someone says that they've never done something before, and that they didn't think they could do it...then they read something you wrote, and it shifted them into beast-mode and they got their first pull up/push up/double under/PR'd their c&j, etc...that's an extremely humbling feeling, to realize that some insignificant 1's and 0's you plopped out on the internet had such an earnest, personal effect on a real person.

Hearing these things really makes one take account of how you interact with the world around you. You can, and do, have a major impact on those around you. Less obvious it may be, but even on those who don't seem so close. The saying goes,

"Never frown because you never know who might be falling in love with your smile."

-Justine Milton

Well, that's some sappy shit if I do say so myself...but it's also true on many levels. It follows then, that:

"Never write completely, utterly, lame, negative bullshit...because you never know who might read it and then go try to get their first muscle up."

Once again, I'm not giving myself a lot of credit here for this influence. This is something we ALL have. Ya, even you weirdo. What I'm driving at here isn't that we should all go out and try to write epic poetry that inspires the world to finally perfect alchemy and not only turn lead to gold, but shit into ice cream. More so that we should endeavor not to let our negative thoughts (and we all have them) influence what we put out into the world - because you never know who just might be waiting for a random line of text to either lift them up over the bar, or lay them face down beneath it. Choose The Wrench.

Open Opportunism

2011-04-23T18:51:00.001-04:00

I realize that it's been quite a while since I posted something, but I assure you DBF is not going anywhere anytime soon - It's not gonna be that easy. Truth is, the 2011 Reebok CrossFit Games Open (which is a bigger mouthful than Monica Lewinski got) has taken up most of my free time - in more ways than one. The busy season is getting fired up at work now, so that actually requires me to do something other than CrossFit...which I need to work on. Without further ado, here we stand before the end of the first ever "Opens." It has been a LONG 6 (check, 7) weeks and I am more beat than Rhianna after Chris Brown and S&M.

I am more beat than Rhianna after Chris Brown and S&M.

Kevin Daigle on What's Important

In case you missed it, they featured an article of mine on the CrossFit Games site! Yet another reason I've been an absentee blogger. There's a ton of great content over there too, check it out. Most of it is better than my filth. (Go HERE for the article). I've found that its difficult to write for two outlets at once, but I'm working on it...I can only come up with so many references, similes, and metaphors in a week. To do more would require going full-Hunter S. Thompson, and drugs aren't paleo.

Let's discuss the ways in which the Opens have beat the ever-loving shit out of me. I feel like I've been relentlessly bludgeoned with a 30lb med ball to the face recently. It all started in week one, with double unders and power snatches so light that it was basically the worlds fastest weighted toe-touches for reps. This workout made me feel horrible, it was a burner and a half. Then there was the goddamn "extension." Due to all the technical malaise, akin to the Games site having stage 12 leprocy...they extended the deadline and didn't publish a WOD for week 2. It was a week 1 mulligan! I ended up doing this WOD 3 times because of that, making myself feel more insignificant each time. Psychologically, this pushed my shit in and didn't call me the next day. To add insult to injury, we couldn't get the damn scores or validation to work either. Imagine drunkenly carrying on a conversation with a beautiful girl all night, only to realize four hours later, she's deaf and didn't hear a word you said.

Psychologically, this pushed my shit in and didn't call me the next day.

This never gets old to me.

So I'm chillin', hoping for a wheelhouse pitch...and BAM. Games style push ups and box jumps. Could it get any worse? I SUCK at box jumps. Oh wait, I blow at push ups too. This gonna be fun. I took it to the hole, but still only managed 9+ rnds. Good considering my weaknesses here, but not good enough. Thus began my slide into the hundreds in the regional rankings. WOD 3 looked like more fun, it's like grace! Fail. Dramatically underestimated this one...I gamed it all wrong. At this point, I felt like I was on an icy hill just trying to get moving. I was really disappointed in myself with this performance. I even brought a LITERAL 2-foot pipe wrench with me that day - even the wrench couldn't save me at that point. When they announced 11.4 I wasn't psyched about muscle ups...my shoulders have been wrecked for awhile now, and my MU's have been sub par for months. However, I managed a respectable 94, which kept me alive. However, it felt like shifting into reverse instead of "Beast-Mode."

Box jumps AND push ups.

So, there's two events left at this point, they were both announced last Tuesday. That was pretty exciting shit. I actually was glued to the computer waiting for it that time. 11.5 did not tickle my under-carraige. Wall balls? Are you fucking kidding me? Strangely they'd turn out to not be the sticking point and although it was a 20min amrap, I was able to turn in a respectable score. At the very least I won't have to live with being kept out of a qualifying spot by wall balls. 11.6....yaaa....there's my bitch. It's deceptive, though...it looks like Fran, but it's not. I'll definitely be talking about that in more detail, but suffice to say if you treat this like Fran, you will pay for your sins. Fastball has been thrown, although it's got a little junk to it. All I need to do now is figure this one out logistically, and send it out onto the Mass Pike.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly...Choose the Wrench has gone fucking viral. I'm almost speechless (I know) over how many people it's resonated with. The response is overwhelming, and there may even finally be t-shirts in the works. There's much cooler news than that concerning it, although I doubt anyone reading this has missed any of it....that will be in the next post, which will be sooner than later. Stay tuned for that, and all the positive, amazing shit that's happened/is happening as a result of the Opens.

Largely Living

2011-03-29T09:14:00.002-04:00

So things have been quiet in the DBF corner of the blogosphere. This is due to things being NOT so quiet elsewhere in the real world. Actually, it's probably not accurate to describe the world I live in as "the real world" but "Daigri-la" does actually exist. There is a a metric fuck-ton of stuff going on that I'll get to very shortly, but I just wanted to check in and let people know that I have not finally been killed by the evil wall-ball empire, or been smote by the ring dip demons.

I'm Still here, and I'm tearing it up like Charlie Sheen on angel dust. From the Coaches Prep Course, to the Opens, training, coaching, and a whole bunch of other stuff....there are stories to be told for sure. It won't be long until I'm on an espresso fueled verbal tour de force, so stay tuned.

The 2nd Opens WOD is announced tonight. I have a sick feeling that it'll combine wall balls, ring dips, box jumps, and other suffering that is difficult to imagine. Please don't wait up and keep clicking refresh, it'll all be clear in due time. I shan't predict any world wide web shenanigans this week...I do feel like things are going to get interesting though. I'm still fired up, and in 124th place (yay...) in the northeast. So I'll have some interesting and hopefully entertaining tidbits very shortly....until then, choose the wrench. Set the back, and keep your hands on the bar...Do WORK.

Tomorrow We Dine In Hell

2011-03-18T12:30:00.001-04:00

Mat being a prick-face at the 2010 CF Games.

In T-minus 24 hours, it begins. Game Day, for us at CrossFit Southie in Boston. We're trained, we're practiced, and ready to chew fucking concrete and shit victory. What's left to do? Mental preparation like a zen master, perhaps a viewing of "Every Second Counts", and copious amounts of sleep.

Tomorrow we will dominate the task before us. Tomorrow we will rise to the next level. Tomorrow we dine in hell! That may be a cheesy "300" reference, but it's for real. This time tomorrow, Hell wants NO part of you...they'd send you back in a second because you are just too bad of a mofo to kick it down there.

If you're still a little fuzzy on how to get ready and need to get pumped up check out this post from awhile back...when the WOD is before you - Be a Prick-Face.

PS. if you're still on the fence about competing, don't. THROW DOWN on it. Check out this piece I wrote for the CrossFit Journal about why everyone should compete!

Bring Your A-Game

The Day The Internet Died

2011-03-15T12:45:00.000-04:00

Tonight at 8pm eastern standard time, when the powers that be at CrossFit HQ post the first workout for the Opens, it begins. The onslaught of requests as Crossfitters the world over begin to repeatedly click "refresh" and await what most people apparently believe will be "Fran." The escalation will begin earlier, around 7:30pm, with people hoping that it might be posted.

I'm sure I'll be a lemming in this just like the rest of you, in our cyber-society long bereft of patience. The smart move would be to just wait. It'll be impossible to NOT know. As soon as it's posted, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and any and all other possible social media will EXPLODE with the news. You'll probably find out quicker by watching your news feeds than by reloading the games site 20 septillion times. The announcement has no choice but to be ubiquitous.

I can see it now, as clear as day in tomorrow's New York Post headline:

CrossFitters Break The Internet...dicks.

I admit I have no idea what the bandwith capability of the games site is, but I'm sure smarter people than I have more than anticipated this. This website is going to get railed on like a nubile Britney Spears by a drug and alcohol fueled K-Fed. There's not much that could be funnier than totally OCD'd out crossfitters bringing down the backbone of the internet with the refresh button. It is however, not actually going to happen...we're not THAT big...even though we do like to think we are.

There is another possibility. One that's been brought up before, and at no time in our brief history has it been more likely. With a greater number of people fully under the influence of the kool-aid than ever, all those refreshers could see the WOD posted as:

Storm town hall for time. 3-2-1-GO!

The take over of world government by CrossFit (while very appealing) is probably not going to happen either....but just like the lottery, the fun is in the "what if?"

All joking aside, who isn't frican pumped up for tonight? There are more hard nipples on earth right now than during the last ice age - I personally account for at least 2 of them. I can't wait to find out what I have to do on Wednesday night...and most likely again on Saturday.

I'm gonna go buy batteries for my wireless mouse...see everyone at the show.

Here Comes The Opens

2011-03-14T08:43:00.000-04:00

Here comes the Opens Bitch!

As I sit here contemplating this paragraph, athletes the world over are preparing to meet their fate in the opens. There are just over 24 hours until the 1st WOD is announced. The sinewy tension is palpable on the interweb and at the box - our motley crew of firebreathers is ready to kick ass and take names. I think it's time to remember what it is we're here to do. Why we've come this far...and a few other important daiglo-dramatic phrases. So I'll revisit a post that struck a chord with the community in December, as it's more relevant now than ever. First though, let us look at some stats:

As of 8am this morning, there are over 10,000 athletes registered for the Opens (Thanks to Lisbeth Darsh for that stat).
The Northeast region has 1,002 athletes registered...as far as I can find the most of any region.
Team CFNE has 79 registered athletes. (CF Fort Vancouver has 96...let's go people, don't want to lose to them AGAIN!).
Last year, about 200 people competed in sectionals in the entire Northeast. So the opens are already five times larger.

This is going to be more awesome than Charlie Sheen, Lindsey Lohan, and Gary Busey at one of my college parties....let's get our game faces on. I just KNOW the first WOD is going to be Fran. Whatever, it's in my wheelhouse anyways. Do Fran you say? sure....

Chalk up the your hands, and CHOOSE THE WRENCH.

"I used to go with the wrench....'cause fuck him, that's why."

Cheat Code for CrossFit?

2011-03-06T16:53:00.003-05:00

CrossFit: Cheat code for real life.

It's not easy to recruit the mental faculties required to perform up to maximum potential in a CrossFit WOD. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that no human being on earth is capable of doing this 100% of the time....not even Speal.

Of course that doesn't mean we shouldn't strive for that 100%, but the stark reality is we'll be lucky to hit a 90%-ish figure. Here's what we need to recognize as a movement, as crossfitters in totality:

Even Superman has to catch forty winks sometime. That precious supply of "beast-fuel" stored within our psyche is limited, but it can be replenished and is a renewable resource. Like our muscles, our ATP, and glycogen stores, beast-fuel needs to be built back up periodically through rest. You may feel OK, but that extra pop just isn't there in your training no matter how hard you push - you struggle like an armless, legless toddler to maintain a positive outlook and positive self talk. It doesn't matter how many times you press the nitrous button if the tank is empty, or how hard you try to shift into "beast-mode" if you're grinding gears.

Only when the trifecta is complete do we reach our maximum WOD shredding best.

You need to tank up on this stuff to bring the wood at the box. The huge gains and astonishing strides we make are almost exclusively gleaned from that "mach-two with your hair on fire" (5pts if you got that reference) final 1% in our workouts. We can't get to that level of intensity through physical means alone - it takes more.

...the more-than-human ability we have to push ourselves through the feeling of drowning in utter hypoxic desperation.

If you find yourself ho-hum in several workouts in row, perhaps even downright debbie-downer with your attitude....you might need a break to re-fill the damn tank. Don't be afraid to do it, it's every bit as essential as being able to move your legs, or fire you're central nervous system. Only when the trifecta is complete do we reach our baddest, WOD-shredding best.

It's the gas tank that "beast-mode" runs on, and beast-mode is fucking bad-ass.

What is it? What does it do? Why do I spend more time in the bathroom at CFNE than I do at my house? Ah, the great questions of the cosmos....It fuels the mental edge, the more-than-human ability we have to push ourselves through the feeling of drowning in utter hypoxic desperation. It's a quantifiable mass of fortitude that we've managed to sock away for that last run in "Helen." A carafe of piss & vinegar that keeps our hands on the bar for just one more rep in "Grace." It's made up of the tears of demons and the blood of angels. It's a little bit righteous and a WHOLE lot evil. It's big-ass sigg bottle full of the juice that gets you off the floor and screaming at the top of your lungs to finish the last deadlift in "Diane." It's the gas tank that "beast-mode" runs on, and beast-mode is fucking bad-ass.

Beast-mode is the Konami Code for CrossFit.

You know when it's full. As you drop off the pull up bar in "Helen", and your goddamn lungs are hanging out of your throat as you head out on the run and you think, "GO! PUSH! I'm the fucking MAN, and I can do this all day!" Congratulations, you have successfully engaged beast-mode. It's what Josh Everett calls "the other gear." A place you can go in your mind where you can access a real-life cheat code. It's the Konami-code for CrossFit. If you don't know what that is, educate yourself....I've not the time for that level Nintendo ignorance. Whatever mental process you go through to engage your own personal beast-mode, it's simply your version of up-up-down-down-left-right-left-right-B-A...BOOM. 30 lives in Contra...or, in our case 18 straight 135lb clean and jerks in Grace. Same shit.

Beast-mode turns grandma's into malevolent mavens of barbell destruction.

Should you suspect your beast-fuel is on "E", make sure and hit up "IDDQD". Which in real life, means getting some rest, meditating a little bit, chiropractic care, mobility, clean eating and perhaps sacrificing small animals to the pagan god of your choosing. Get your evil on, and always have your hand on the shifter ready to drop the hammer into beast-mode. Beast-mode turns grandma's into malevolent mavens of barbell destruction...athletes into competitors, and competitors into awe inspiring spectacles of metabolic capacity. Doing CrossFit without beast-mode is like playing Super Mario Bros. 3 without using the P-wing, or the racoon leaf....and no warp zones. Don't do it. Not. even. once.

Note: The title and content of this post inspired by conversations with Matt Maloney of CrossFit New England.

A final word on "Game Day 4", besides never wanting to do it again and my shoulders joining the public employees unions in Wisconsin...

I have now jinxed myself and Game Day 5 will be rope climbs/ring dips AMRAP 20

CFNE Breathes Fire Redux

2011-02-28T09:12:00.001-05:00

Revisiting a post from a little over a year ago. It seems that this is more true now than it was when I first wrote it. The sentiments expressed have only grown stronger and run deeper in the time since I wrote them. It's worth going back there again, as we make our final preparations to compete in the open and remember what it is that makes CFNE such a special and different place. Best coaches. Best athletes (yes, that means YOU). Best gym. Ever.

(Originally posted Jan 25, 2010...the 1yr Anniversary of CFNE on Tech Circle.)

We're at a point now where I can't say that there is a distinct line between "crossfitters" and "firebreathers." As a box, we are collectively now breathing fire, and doing so on a grand scale. Saturday night was the internal team Throwdown to mark the 1yr anniversary of CFNE existing in it's Tech circle location, and for most of us being a part of this illustrious group of athletes. That night, many took part in their first ever CrossFit competition. For some, it may have been the first athletic competition of their lives. In either case, an experience like that changes you. What some may not realize yet, is how far reaching those changes can be and just how far down the road that experience will impact their lives.

One year ago Saturday, I walked through the doors of CrossFit New England for the first time. I was scared-fucking-SHITLESS. I had been CF'ing on my own at the globo-gym for about six months, and was setting foot in a LEGIT CF box for the first time. Of course, previous to that day I was the biggest bad-ass on the planet. I was a fitness rebel.... doing insane, ridiculous shit in the middle of a gym where people try not to draw any attention to themselves. Now I was in it for real, in a place that was created just for that purpose....and I was shaking like virgin in a hotel room on prom night. One year ago, when I stepped through that door, not knowing a soul and feeling very timid (I'm sure many of you find this hard to swallow, but it's true). Within a couple of minutes, I met Heather for the 1st time. She introduced herself to me, and I made mention of who I was, as I had been in touch with her via email for a few weeks prior. It was via these emails that she invited me down to the grand opening that day. Although I'm sure she hadn't a fucking clue who I was, she at least pretended to, and in a way that only Heather can manage made me feel as if we'd been friends for ten years. I felt instantly relaxed and very welcome...I had been indoctrinated into the amazing fraternal brotherhood of CrossFitters. A few minutes later I'd meet Ben and have a similar experience. I did not, however, feel anymore relaxed about the WOD; in fact I was pretty sure that it was going to fuck me up six ways to Sunday (and it did). Little did I know the amazing, transformational journey that these people would take me on over the course of the coming year.

I was the LAST person to finish that WOD (and by last I mean by like 5 minutes), and every single person in the gym was screaming and cheering for me. Most of these people I hadn't even met yet...so at this point I felt what all of you are very familiar with now; An overwhelming sense of community and belonging that only comes through shared suffering. Something that has forever changed and reshaped our lives over the past months, and will most undoubtedly continue to do in the future. At this juncture, Mat was still a figment of our imaginations and Harry was half the size he is now; Derek was still hiding out in the back with headphones on. So far away, yet not long ago. Most of the time, when you're in a new situation or group you keep everyone at arms length for quite awhile until you're comfortable....not this time though. I was invited to stay for the party and felt totally comfortable doing so. I went somewhere to workout, and came home at 2:30am. It was clear I was amongst people and a place unlike anything I'd known before.

I remember driving home that night, almost euphoric...and I didn't really understand why, but it would become clear in the months hence. It would still be some time before I became the 7-day-a-week fixture that is Daigle at CFNE. At that point, it was a rare treat to workout down there. Ben and Heather (not to mention Harry, Bubba, and everyone else) became great friends of mine quickly, though. I felt so welcome in Natick - it was a community that I couldn't NOT be a part of (Daigle is allowed to use double-negatives). Shortly thereafter I took part in the first throwdown, and got my ass handed to me on a plate with a side of fava beans and nice Chianti. That experience is when I truly became a CF'er. It was cemented by participating in the "elite" workouts that all those trying to qualify put themselves through last year on Saturdays. I was honored that they even let me train with them in these torturous trials of will, as I'd hardly even call myself an athlete at that point....but through that I learned what I needed to become. Not long after, I'd watch that crew compete at the North East Regionals in Albany NY. After leaving there, I fully understood that I wanted to be a competitor and it's driven me ever since.

I've watched myself, and all of you come an immeasurable distance in the past year. We've gone from a small group of men and women vying for a shot at being a competitor, losing weight, getting in shape, or just finding a new way to workout, to a veritable force to be reckoned with in the world of CrossFit. We will have a giant delegation at the sectionals competition this year, and it's a credit to everyone at CFNE for their heartfelt dedication and steely fortitude inside and outside the box. It's an attitude and a presence that is personified in Ben and Heather Bergeron. They've led by example from day-one, and because of it they've managed to create the best place to train anyone could imagine. Just by being themselves over the last year, they've drawn to CFNE more of the same types of people; Strong, motivated, honorable people who have ALL contributed enormously to both our exemplary training and our unparalleled community.

I won't speak for everyone else, but through my eyes (which I'm sure you know is a strange and sometimes frightening point of view) so much has happened, and almost all for the better. I've gone from just another person bored with working out, to a competitive athlete, to a coach. I've become far more proficient in movements, and stronger mentally, physically, and emotionally. I've gone from just trying to get by, to trying to get better every single day. In less than a year, I've made a giant group of friends....friends that are the best anyone could ask for. In one year I've found my calling, athletically speaking...and there's still no end in sight to this voyage. In a few short months I started eating clean (with no real pressure or negative reinforcement I might add...which is amazing in and of itself). In less than a year CrossFit has taken me from Natick, Ma, to Albany NY, to San Francisco California, to Aromas, CA and the CrossFit games. I suddenly found myself relaxed, and focused on becoming something better than I had been before. I found myself hopping a plane to San Fran, and cruising down the Pacific Coast highway in a convertible Corvette. I'd spend a weekend watching Heather become one of the fittest women on earth, and Ben, Derek, Harry, Elaine, Ronda, and Michelle CRUSH it in the A-cup. I knew that was where I wanted to be.....here and now. I was also there with the people I wanted to be there with....our CFNE crew.

Each and every day, we walk through the door, piss Ben off by putting shit on the treadmills, and set our steely nerves against the challenge of the day. We will get better, together, with each and every rep in each and every workout. We share a bond forged in training through workouts long, short, heavy, and hard. A connection, now strengthened and tempered in the fire of competition. A respect for one another that grows by leaps and bounds each time we push ourselves beyond what is comfortable and what we thought was impossible. One year ago, to the day... we walked through that door for the first time....Now, here we stood, resolute, in front of barbells.... ready to chew concrete. We weren't what we had been a year ago, we had become something else entirely. We became CrossFit New England, and we breathe fire.

Changing the Game...Thoughts from the AF Team Summit

2011-02-24T10:01:00.000-05:00

...what we have is one huge mofo, off the hook, conflagration of bad-assery and WOD-destroying mayhem

It's almost sinful...the sort of luck (aka manipulative scheming to get what I want) I seem to possess. I get luckier than the MIT blackjack team in Vegas at the Spearmint Rhino when it comes to some of the events I get to attend. This past weekend was perhaps the most significant and exciting of any such events to date.

The Team Again Faster Summit took place at CrossFit New England this past weekend. Jon Gilson and his Again Faster cohorts flew in almost all of their athletes and the Jedi master coaches of the universe for most of our CrossFit disciplines. Add a heavy spread of the AF media team to record it all for posterity and what we have is one huge mofo, off the hook, conflagration of bad-assery and WOD-destroying mayhem. All those exceptional athletes and coaches in one place makes a rich environment for dramatic skill development, as well as the chance for these games level athletes to train with each other in the same location. It's safe to say you couldn't buy a more robust weekend of training, coaching, and lecture at any price. This wasn't open to the public, it wasn't even invite only. It was for the Again Faster Competition Team, and no one else. What fucking reason on earth could I have to be there?

I'd just developed what would prove to be a forty-eight hour CrossFit Boner.

Well, who wouldn't want to be? So, me being me I found a way to involve myself like the sneaky little shit I am. I'm collaborating with them on a piece (which actually is only partially based on the summit). I managed to get myself in the back door of what I believe will be a game changing event in the CrossFit-cosm. The collection of personalities was remarkable. Some of CrossFit HQ's top brass such as Dave Castro, Lynne Pitts, and Nicole Carroll. The best coaches CF has to offer like Mike Burgener, Jay Leydon, and Jeff Tucker were on hand to teach the athletes new tricks they could add to their already formidable game. Olympians/coaches Chad Vaughn (weightlifting....check THIS out) and Erin Cafaro (rowing) were on hand to give some pointers on high level competition, as well as coaching in their respective sports. Greg Amundson, the original firebreather, talked about motivation, goal setting, and the power of self-talk. The AF Competition team members that were in attendance included Brian Curley (Masters World Champion), Camille Leblanc-Bazinet, Dave Lipson, Russell Berger, Austin Malleolo, Heather Bergeron, Michelle Kinney, James Hobart, Stacey Kroon, Kevin Montoya, Jessica Pamanian, Peter Egyed, Spencer Hendel, and Pat "the manimal" Barber.

Walking out of the locker room on Saturday morning after an early WOD (Game Day 2 for those keeping track), the first three people I encountered were Dave Castro, Jon Gilson, and Mike Burgener. I thought to myself, "All I'm doing is watching, and this is going to be fucking EPIC." I was in no way disappointed, as I'd just developed what would prove to be a forty-eight hour CrossFit Boner...probably should have called the doctor. Everything kicked off with a talk from Dave Castro about the history of CrossFit, then the athletes hit some WODs, and followed with lectures and coaching from CrossFit's finest. It was spectacular just to be a fly on the wall here, and again, I realize how fortunate I am to be devious enough to slide my way into these things. The only thing more impressive than the athletes (Russell Berger's Bar muscle ups make me look like a quadriplegic doing banded pull ups) was the masterful cueing and lecturing from the coaches.

This is going to change how we compete in CrossFit.

Very early on I got the sense that I was in the midst of something extraordinary. This was like our Games Training Camp from last year on HGH and a gallon of the finest espresso available. It wouldn't do it justice to call it an evolution, it's just too big of a leap forward. This is the first time in CrossFit's short history that a team of sponsored athletes came together in a team training environment for a weekend with dedicated coaching, instruction, lecture, and ninja ass kicking on a level not oft seen. Outside of the CrossFit Games, I can't think of a single situation in which you'd find a concentration of talent - both athlete and coach - in the same building at the same time. I'm sure the team at AF will have all the details in stunning HD video for the world to see very soon. This event, and more basically the development of this concept (sponsored teams of athletes in CF) is a game changer. This will seek to elevate the level of the athletes through camaraderie, competition, synergy, and support. An event of this magnitude opens the door for further development in kind and eventually to performances from these athletes that we can't even wrap our heads around right now. The world-class meeting of the minds put on by the team from Again Faster was something to experience. This is in the context of having been to several certifications, two CF Games, multiple competitions, throwdowns, qualifiers etc. This is going to change how we compete in CrossFit. But you didn't hear that from me, I'm just a guest here.

Hurts So Good

2011-02-18T11:19:00.000-05:00

John Cougar Mellencamp once belted, "Hurts so good!...." In his case, it had something to do with love. Here, it has everything to do with CrossFit. So, I guess that means it has everything to do with love too...probably one of the most sincere forms of love; love for what we do. CrossFit hurts. It hurts like getting laughed at by the girl you like at a Jr. high dance. The difference is in CrossFit there's a reward - not heartache - on the other side of the hurt. The workouts almost always hurt, some more than others. There is a threshold, however. A zone and a place where it hurts oh so much more. This is a place we need to go, but often fail to get to. There are certain WODs that are uniquely suited to transport us to this ethereal plane of suffering.

Heavy Helen

3 rounds for time:

Run 400m

21 KBS (70,53)

12 Chest to bar Pull ups

11:33 Rx

For starters, "Helen" itself (for me at least) is one of the most fear/anxiety inducing of the named workouts. There is no pace, no respite from the gut rumbling, lung squeezing, icy grip of death himself on your heart in the middle of this WOD. It's a balls-out, no-holds-barred, barbarian attack on your metabolic capacity, and causes you to seriously question how committed you are to staying alive.

OPT does Helen in under 7minutes

Why is it so painful and terrifying? Well, it STARTS with a run. That's always fun. However, there is nothing in the workout that will push most people to muscular failure (like HSPU, or ring dips etc). The rep scheme isn't terrifying, there aren't a lot of runs, and it's only three rounds. So what gives? What makes this workout one of the most telling tests of fitness in CrossFit? It's the length. It's just long enough that you can be transported to a place mentally that you may have never been before. It's long enough to completely waste you metabollically...buuut not long enough that there is a pace or a place to rest. Once you've reached the threshold where you can do all the movements in straight sets, it comes down to how fast can you cycle them and how fast you're willing to push the runs.

Helen is, at its root, as hard as you can go...extended out as long as you can maintain it. It's like a top speed run on I-495 at 3am in a car with almost limitless power (purely hypothetical, of course) - You're dropping the hammer on the gas pedal until the car just won't go anymore.

Unlike "Fran", "Helen" (or any derivative of it) never seems to fade in my mind. I often have trouble remembering just how terrible you feel after Fran. Fran is so short, that you almost don't have time to suffer until it's over...and suffer you will. Helen on the other hand, the instant I see it posted I get a little rumbly-in-the-tumbly. The recollection of the suffocating, drowning feeling in this workout is vivid. I know it's going to hurt. This time (granted, it was heavy) was a little different. I did feel anxiety and some nerves, but I almost looked forward to it.

I wasn't excited just because it was fifty degrees and we hadn't run outside in like 2 months. It was because I realized it had been awhile since I suffered like that, and I needed to go to that place again. Not that I hadn't been there in forever, but it's a different landscape in that realm in the midst of burpees than it is while you're out on a run, in metabolic no-man's land.

So off we raced into the warm sunny day on the 1st lap of "Heavy Helen." JC happened to be there for the noon class, and I knew he was probably a little faster than me in this WOD, but had resigned myself to staying on him. I was only about five meters behind him the whole run which was manageable at about a 1:20 pace, did a straight set and came off the swings a rep ahead I think, and crushed the pull ups straight...finished the 1st round in about 2:30, and headed back out. I knew Jason would be tearing ass after me, so I booked it on the run and had a solid 50-60m lead in the middle of the 400. This is where the pain sets in. I felt it coming, but stayed really positive which I'm happy about. Not a negative thought or word entered my brain the whole time.

Coming in from that round, I was ahead by a good margin at about 4:30, making the 2nd 400 about a 2min pace. That's about as awesome as cat puke on the sidewalk in August, but what can you do. I broke the swings in 2 sets...not sure why, I'm sort of pissed about that one. Once again, I crushed the pull ups and headed back out neck and neck with Jason at this point. The run was tough, but mentally positive and survivable. Coming in the door I was only a few meters behind and got right on the KB.

High expectation Asian dad

After 15 Swings, I lost my footing and had to drop it. Then I got 2 more and dropped it. Then finished the set, finally. This is when the epic fail began. I did two chest to bar pull ups, and dropped off the bar. Shit! So I jumped back up and got one, failed the 2nd. SHIT! I had reached total metabolic failure. Moments ago, I had been right next to Jason in the swings, I ended up finishing about 1:15 slower. I was on a 10 minute pace for about nine minutes and forty-five seconds....then the bottom dropped out.

There's a lesson here. I didn't fall apart at the end because I lost focus...It was because I pushed myself past a threshold of metabolic output from which there is no return. It's like leaping over the edge of a cliff...you can't decide, "well that was a bad idea" and take it back. This is where I need to be in my training more often. Perhaps if I'd gone that far in some recent workouts prior to this, I could have held together long enough to finish in about 10min. You have to push yourself that far, feel that much pain, to know you can bear it and be ready to go a little further the next time. When I'm pushing myself over that line, I try and tell myself, "this is it, put in the tank for next time...build that capacity." I think I gained more from this workout (which was not a PR, and not a top performance either) than I did by having the 2nd fastest time in the gym on the "black and blue" workout a few days ago. I found the threshold again, and I will be back.

I didn't win it...in fact I didn't even come close, but I know where I stumbled and know where I stand. Those are powerful tools to have at your disposal. Most importantly, I rediscovered - as we do in CrossFit on the regular - that I can go that hard. Now I will, and that capacity will slowly build back to where it once was and beyond. There's nothing like walking out the door in the warm sunny air knowing you gave it everything you had, and that you'll be back tomorrow. It does hurt so good. There's a joy in that suffering on the floor after a workout like this. It's strange that it "feels good" even though you might puke, your muscles all burn like hades itself, and you can't hear anything but your heart pounding. There is a clarity here that is different and unmatched anywhere else at any other time. A peaceful calm. This is why we seek it out, and why it makes us better. It's in these particular moments that we share with our fellow crossfitters that we are most definitely born again, hard.

Abmat Rage Guy

2011-02-17T08:44:00.000-05:00

Today I'm revisiting a post from almost exactly a year ago, in which I described the carnage that many of us experience with high-rep abmat situps. In this case, it was from doing "Angie", but the inspiration for this post and the associated rage comic, was from doing "Annie" in the warmup yesterday in the 6:30am class at CFNE. In case you missed that post back then, here's an excerpt (the important part.).

No Skin Off My Back

But ALL the skin is off of my ass, thanks to "Angie" on Tuesday. Everyone's favorite exercise, the abmat sit-up, has left many a crossfitter with a raw, skinless ass. As if tearing the inter-digital skin on your finger damn near down to the bone wasn't bad enough, after a brief respite on the push-ups (which still suck) you tear your body's outer protective layer away from one of your most vulnerable areas; your turd cutter. Then of course, the worst part is not even realizing it happened during the workout...until you get in the shower. One of two things can happen....you happen to sachet past the mirror and realize that your huff has been shucked down to fillet Mignon status and is basically ready for the grill; the shock and horror is overwhelming if it's the first time you've done "Angie." Scenario two, is you get IN the shower and turn around...only to have the wind knocked out of you by a searing, burning, pain on your ASS. Surely this isn't what I signed up for, you think as you're reeling from the agony that can only be brought by hot water and soap colliding with exposed butt-flesh. But, this is CrossFit; whether it be figuratively or literally....you're getting it in the poop-chute.

This event, combined with yesterday afternoon and a pain that can only be replicated by a front kick to the chest from God, inspired this little gem...'nuff said.

Laughing at Farts vol 3

2011-02-11T09:54:00.000-05:00

Once again, things have been a little serious, so lets lighten up the mood with some hysterical meme based humor. Why? Because I think it's goddamn hilarious, that's why...

What is the definition of awesome? Well they say a picture is worth a 1,000 words....this comes pretty close:

see more Memebase

Is someone doing Fran over there???

see more Memebase After Dark

Getting smoked by an alpaca would be irritating. Something about their beady little faces makes me want to punch them viciously.

see more Memebase After Dark

AHAHAHAHAAAAA...

see more Memebase After Dark

I told them not to open next to a CrossFit Box...

see more Hacked IRL - Truth in Sarcasm

This is just chock full o' win.

I filed this one under "shit that I have no idea why it's funny, but it is."

see more Memebase

srsly...just cut that shit out.

see more Hacked IRL - Truth in Sarcasm

This is the be-all, end-all flow chart of life:

"You have been down this road before, I know that's not where you want to be..."

see more funny videos

For a second I thought, "Shit, I'm missing out."....

see more funny videos

Then I was in the gym during CF kids, and thought, "Wait..that's a lot of insanity... and I DON'T have kids...."

Necrophiliac frogs...my worst nightmare

see more Memebase

Shut Up and CrossFit

2011-02-03T11:08:00.000-05:00

Why people need to stop complaining like babies, and just get ready to actually COMPETE in the "Opens."

The incessant bitching about the "Open" format for the CrossFit Games Qualifiers has really started to grate on me. I get it...people fear change, and are looking out for number one. In the comments on the games site, the main site, facebook, blogs, and the entire int3rw3b the ranting has reached almost fever pitch...albeit from a very vocal, crabby minority. The bullshit reasoning and excuses for why this format is "unfair" or "not objective" have merit only when viewed in the microcosm of the individual, mediocre athlete, such as myself. I get that, too. Everyone wants to qualify for regionals, and wants nothing they view as a bureaucratic roadblock to stand in the way of the highest level they're likely to achieve in CrossFit competition. Understood....but wrong.

Is cheating a problem? It sure is, and it will be face-punched accordingly.

First of all....stop. fucking. whining. It's been said a million times already, but I'll say it again, "Deal with it." Most of the controversy at this point has centered around the "Opens" not being centralized. This leads to several assumptions which are valid concerns, but in my opinion are blown out of proportion...sort of like when girls make a production of whether the toilet seat is up or down. Is it a real event? Yes. Does it affect your existence? Yes, slightly. However, does it in any way affect the universe as a whole, the AIDs epidemic, starving children in Africa, or the GDP? No, it does not. I'm referring to cheating, of course. The sub-category here is standards and judging, which I'll get to shortly

Time to blow shit out of proportion.

Is cheating a problem? It sure is, and it will be face-punched accordingly. The concern people are expressing over the potential for cheating in the Opens is legitimate. However, the scale on which people seem to believe this is going to happen is disappointing and quite frankly not realistic. Simple social/cultural restraints within the CrossFit community would prevent the vast majority of this behavior. The repercussions would be swift and final. The offender(s) would be ostracized forthwith and forever. Fuck off. If people cheat, their transgression would be glaringly obvious at Regionals...as their performance (or lack thereof) would be so far out of line with the qualification they "earned" to get there.

It's all part of the game...part of our game, part of CrossFit.

The sub heading here is standards and judging. Since this Open event is to happen at local affiliates and each workout judged locally, people are crying about variance in standards. Well no fucking shit, Sherlock. My personal feeling on this, is that no one with this gripe is very experienced in competition at all, let alone CF competition. We try like hell to minimize any inconsistency in standards and judging, but it's the human factor that cannot be removed. There are variances in what judges count as reps in every competition from local throwdowns, to last years sectionals, all the way to the CrossFit Games (albeit less of a variance as you level up.) What do the top notch athletes do about it? They fucking deal with it. It's a part of the game. Just like in football, there's no accounting for refs making bad calls. It happens, and you have to keep playing anyways. In college I had fifteen yard personal fouls called on me that I wasn't guilty of, but fuck it...what can you do? You just keep playing.

At sectionals last year, a judge (who apologized afterwards) tried to adjust a collar on my bar as I was pulling a snatch, totally FUBARed the rep and probably cost me about 10sec. Am I ok with that? Sure, because he's a human being. Just like I'm not going to bitch that someone didn't quite open their hip all the way on a burpee that their judge counted. It's Karma - I know, someplace, in one of these workouts I probably got a sympathy call on a wall-ball, or maybe got a chest-to-bar where my chest didn't quite hit the bar. Just like I was probably called foul on a box jump that was perfectly legit. It's all part of the game...part of our game, part of CrossFit.

Some are straight up pissed about the format. I see the gripe here...it's different. It's not one weekend of all out bad ass destruction. It's six weeks of "what can you get done" hardcore CF workouts. Is this harder to train for? No, I don't think so. It's certainly different and requires an entirely new "in-season" approach to that six-week period - something we haven't tried yet. Isn't that what CF is all about anyways? Constantly varied anyone? I welcome the change. Overall, this format is FAR more accessible to FAR more people than the previous single-weekend event. We had to travel over 3hrs to Milford CT last year for sectionals. It was fun, I loved it, and I'd do it again. However the new Opens format doesn't require nearly as big of commitment for most people. You're likely not going to have to drive or fly anywhere or stay in a hotel for a weekend. You're even afforded the option of submitting a video for review and scoring. The intent of this format is inclusiveness...and I think HQ nailed it. Personally, I like the big one day event...but this is better for the masses and the overall mission of the CrossFit games - finding the fittest on earth. Once again, if you find this is too inconvenient for you...then maybe you're in the wrong place. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

Your fucking birth certificate did not come with a stamp that says, "You are hereby granted the right to compete at the CF Games."

Most internet cry-babying is dictated by this equation.

There is also the small issue of internet keyboard warriors, trolls, and people who simply cannot deal with the power of their anonymity. Most of these people are just looking for something to bitch about, and because they're on the internet, suddlenly that's ok to do regardless of logic or reason. It's narcissism of the highest order - "This isn't perfect for ME...how dare they not bow and scrape to my needs?!" This image is a perfect description of the process.

Finally, there's the concern that any or all of these elements will conspire to keep people out of the games. Perhaps someone that deserved a spot might not make it. For example, someone cheats their scores and makes it to regionals and takes the spot of someone who deserved it. That would suck bigfoots dick - if it happens I'm confident the person will be found out and retribution will be swift. I think the concern over this is over-inflated. Granted it's possible, but it only really matters to people like me. Athletes who are likely to make it all the way to the games and compete at the top of the sport are going to get in. People who are on the bubble (such as myself) are likely to be the ones affected here. Yes, that sucks...however like I mentioned earlier, does the universe care? No, it doesn't...and I don't believe that it will have any net effect on the outcome of the CF Games in July. If you want to be immune to this calamity become a better athlete and it won't be an issue. Again, it's not about YOU. It's about CrossFit, and it's about finding the fittest people on earth. Your fucking birth certificate did not come with a stamp that says, "You are hereby granted the right to compete at the CF Games." Shut you're fucking pie hole, and get over yourself.

If it was really so sterile and void of imperfection, would it be so fucking rad? I think not. Removing the human component from the sport would diminish the gamesmanship that we all relish. This isn't a stress-test at the the hospital. It's not a paternity test, and you are not fucking entitled to it. Shut up... and stop whining. This is CrossFit - you loved it once - with all its imperfection and beauty. Do you remember? I do. Embrace the pain, the suck, the missed reps, the scraped shins, and the bruised clavicles. Just get out there and give it bloody fucking hell. It's not about whether your judge was stricter than Willy-Wall-balls's judge. It's not whether someone submitted a bogus score for a WOD to take a spot away from you in the Regionals. It has nothing to do with the wedding you had planned in the middle of the six-week Opens period. It has EVERYTHING to do with CrossFit. Everything to do with giving everything you have to that one WOD, on that one day. Just show up, crush the WOD, revel in the company of your fellow crossfitters, and await the results...

What matters is that what you give is all you have, not where that ranks among everyone else. What matters...is CrossFit.

Society of the Egg

2011-01-31T12:32:00.000-05:00

CFNE'ers Socializing over Breakfast at Central St.

There are times when I would believe that "CFNE" actually stands for "Cretins Feeding on Nothing but Eggs." Truth be told, eggs are really, really fucking tasty and we eat a metric-fuck-ton of them at CrossFit New England. It's interesting is how it's developed into far more than just a food over the past 2 years. At CrossFit New England, we are the Society of the Egg.

Every CrossFit affiliate has a robust social community that surrounds, permeates, supports and enriches it's members. It's the most obvious element that makes CF so amazing. One of the earliest and best traditions that's developed at our affiliate is without question omelets at Central St. Cafe in Natick, Ma.

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If you've never been, you're missing out. Allow me to elaborate. Nearly two years ago, I'd heard Mat and Harry raving about the omelets at this place and never gave it much thought. One day after class on Saturday, they invited me to go grab one...but I declined as I had to be someplace. Dumb. Should have gone that day. Not long after, while hangin' around the gym with Ben and Heather they asked if I wanted to join them for Brunch. Again, I'd been hearing the raving about how great these omelets were and how you could even get them "paleo" if you wanted...so I was rather excited to try them out.

An epic, mountainous, semi-circle of beef, cheese, bacon, onions and tomato...


A chicken Pesto Omelet "CrossFitted"

Central St., as we call it, is a tiny little place that probably only seats 50-60 people - your typical little breakfast nook restaurant. Visually there is nothing extraordinary about the place, but just a glance at the menu which includes a large selection of omelets with more components than the USS Ronald Reagan, tells a different story. Oh right, then Ben directed my attention to the "specials board" which has five or six additional and even more tantalizing omelets, such as the venerable bacon-cheeseburger omelet, and the amazing chicken pesto. Upon receiveing my three egg omelet I thought, "GREAT ODIN'S RAVEN!!!" This was not a three egg omelet. It was AT LEAST a six-egger. I know this because when I make my own omelets at home they have six eggs in them, and these are similar in size.

The bacon cheeseburger omelet was my first. As they say, you never forget your first. An epic, mountainous, semi-circle of beef, cheese, bacon, onions and tomato's enveloped in a velvety, fluffy cocoon of "scramby" egg must have been worth seven or eight unborn chickens. We talked, loved our eggs, and bonded. The Society of the Egg had been born.

Over the coming months we'd go just about every Saturday or Sunday...occasionally (and much more often now) both. Some people even go during the week. Although the heavenly omelets never disappoint it's grown to become so much more than that. Over CFNE's 2yr history in Natick we've developed quite the "regular" status at Central St. In fact, there is ongoing talk of making us our very own "CrossFit" menu. They already know that we'll have a party of between 6-12, and that not a single one of us wants the homefries or toast that come with the omelets (scratch that, we might want them but we're not getting them). Instead we'll opt for a fruit bowl, sides of bacon, an extra fried egg on top of the omelet (Heather started that, because there's no such thing as too many eggs). They don't seem to mind our weird paleo eating habits and endless substitutions.

Pat and John Doole Patiently await the fluffy goodness

...we don't just train together...we're friends.

Central St. Cafe is the CFNE athletes' version of a bar or watering hole. It's where we go to socialize post-game, and where newcomers are welcomed into our community at CFNE. I would say that just about anyone from CFNE who has been to Central St. remembers the 1st time they went. For a few people I can think of, it was the turning point where they went from just punching the clock, to full-tilt, all go, no quit, balls-out, competitive crossfitters. It's amazing what some eggs and a good conversation can do.

It's a place where we share more than one common bond; CrossFit, eggs, and shooting the shit. The three things I love most in life after football, peanut butter cups, and boobs. It's here that we talk about the WOD's, reflect on past performances grand and embarassing, get to know the newest among us, make plans, set goals, and stuff our faces with way more protein than any human should consume in a sitting (I had two omelets last Saturday). Barry Sears would shit his fucking pants if he saw the protein/carb proportion that goes on at a Central St. Breakfast.

Breakfast at Central St. Cafe is just as important to me as Kettlebells and pull up bars. It's necessary to my well being.

Don't say no...when someone asks you if you want to go get breakfast at CFNE on Saturday or Sunday morning, you fucking say, "YES!" Make time for it. I promise you'll be back. It's become a right of passage. People start by getting hooked on CF, then discover that there is this rich community within the box. Then they come to Central St and become a permanent, integral part of it. It's where I first became very close friends with Harry, Mat, and the rest of the crew at CFNE. Where our relationships became deeper than just training colleagues. It was at Central St that Ben and Heather invited me to their wedding. We look forward to it all week, and get grumpy if we can't go. It's a testament to, and a cause of, the fact that we don't just train together...we're friends.

CrossFit New England is the Society of the Egg. We Struggle, we train, we suffer, and set PR's together. We sweat, bleed, yell, and gasp for air as a family...and in the end, we eat omelets. Breakfast at Central St. Cafe is just as important to me as Kettlebells and pull up bars. It's necessary to my well being. It's poetic I suppose, that at the end of a day of training, I quite literally have egg on my face. It's a tradition we love, and it's become a vital component to our community. I bet just about every affiliate has a story like this one....a tie that binds, in addition to CrossFit. Long live the society of the egg.

Does your affiliate have any special social/community traditions? Let's here 'em....post to comments!

Prepare for Glory

2011-01-26T13:29:00.000-05:00

First, an update...a "Choose the Wrench" T-shirt is in the works. Sit tight for more info on that soon.

You are a warrior in the sport of fitness, and you are your own weapon.

Yesterday we found out that what is now being called the "Open" will start on March 15th. Fuckin' A Right. I Couldn't be more excited about this. If you're a CFNE athlete there's a ton of reasons you should be as pumped up as John Doole before FGB.

Let the games begin

Here's a link to the article on the 2011 games site.

Now we have a date. Target is locked, boys and girls...prepare to fire. We have a start time and I've heard through the grapevine that Regionals is looking to be mid June. It's time to rock and roll....I'm so fired up my nipples could cut diamonds like a chain saw versus drywall.

This is your training and it's ending one second at a time.

Why should you be excited? Well for one, this format of the open worldwide qualifier means it's super easy for everyone to participate. You'll likely be doing all your qualifying WODs (1 each week for 6 weeks) at CFNE. Secondly, now you have a place to put the cross hairs of your training. March 15th we find out what the first WOD will be. Not going to lie, I'm doing it that day. I won't be able to contain myself...it'll be like Heather trying not to tell an inappropriate joke in class. Not fuckin' happening.

Yet another reason; All the struggles you've been having mentally in training are over. DONE WITH. Positive self talk is mandatory. No whining or bitching or telling yourself something sucks, you can't do it, or even that you don't want to do it. GET AFTER IT. It's easy now...there's a deadline. On that day, you will be ready to chew asphalt and shit a highway....as will I. CrossFit New England Rides again, and this time we're taking more than 10 people to Regionals - we're rollin' deep. CrossFitters....Prepare for Glory!

This is your training and it's ending one second at a time. Seize each opportunity to get better. Every day, every workout, is an opportunity...don't deny yourself the benefit. People like to say "let's get fit" or "let's get strong" and that's all well and good. It's not quite powerful enough for me though. You are a warrior in the sport of fitness, and you are your own weapon. I say, Let's get Weapon. Decide before you get to the gym that today is the day.

Today is the day I do the sets unbroken.

Today is the day I go RX'd.

I WILL not stop, I don't care how bad the pain is.

I WILL choke that pissant little voice in my head to death for trying to make me quit.

I WILL set a PR today.

I WILL Choose the Wrench.

I WILL be prepared, calm, confident, and focused on March 15th.

I WILL qualify.

About seven and a half weeks to go. Get to CFNE, and get weapon.

Let's Yuck It Up a Little

2011-01-17T09:12:00.000-05:00

Things have been kind of serious...a little too serious for my liking. Actually, being serious is cool, but only when punctuated with hilarious knee-slapping dim-wittery. I don't know about anyone else, but I need to have a hearty knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather chuckle every now and again to release some anxiety. So without further ado, lets again take a frightening stroll into the mind of me, and take a look at what made me laugh this week.

Disclaimer....NO this is probably NOT safe for work.

It's about time I flip this table over! (fuck you ring dips)
see more Memebase After Dark

I have days like this every now and again....

see more Very Demotivational

I can't imagine what she'd be qualified for....

see more Very Demotivational
see more Very Demotivational

This guy was like, "Fuck Yeah."

see more Very Demotivational

I would SO eat this. In fact I have a giant breakfast boner.

see more Very Demotivational

I need this sign for work...

see more Very Demotivational

This is my life.

see more Funny Graphs

Not your problem...you didn't see shit.

see more Funny Graphs

For a time, we had cadillac-of-TP triple-ply at the gym. But people kept clogging the toilet, so now this is a very real concern with the new stuff...

see more Funny Graphs

Might as well...

see more Memebase After Dark

This made me laugh inexplicably hard. Oh cookies, you know me so well.

see more Memebase

Oh man....I may or may not have behaved similarly on the field in college.

see more Memebase After Dark

I'd be forced to stare at the pure awesomeness of this for at least 10min...

see more Hacked IRL - Truth in Sarcasm

I put this in the category of shit that's hilarious, but we don't know why.

see more Memebase

This is my nightmare....

see more Memebase

That's four blocks....

see more Hacked IRL - Truth in Sarcasm

Oh...THAT'S why I'm single....

see more Memebase

This is Just cool.

This is also a road map of my traverse of the beer summit.

Shoveling Sh*t Against the Tide

2011-01-14T12:14:00.002-05:00

It seems with some things in life (and in CrossFit), the harder you push them, the harder they push back. Sometimes they cut the bullshit and kick you square in the teeth. I'm grateful that this is only figurative, as if it weren't I'd have dentures by now. My personal not-so-private struggle with wall balls is well documented...but I do have other nemeses. The vilest of which is certainly ring dips. I had a conversation with Garv yesterday about dips actually. We talked about how back in the day it seemed as if dips were easier. This is true...but those of course, were bar dips - not ring dips. I share the same feeling as I remember being able to crank out 50ish dips or so on bars back in the "Bi's and Tri's" days at the globo-gym. Days gone by for sure...and for the best I'm sure...although I've been stymied by the dip on the rings ever since.

It only takes one attempt to for your brain to realize the scathing truth:

Ring dips are WAY fucking harder than bar dips.

Clearly there's the fact that the rings are not self-stabilized, they require far more muscle control, greater strength, many more muscles, yada yada yada. I'm starting to wonder if the god damned things are cursed by heathen gods of yore. The first time I encountered the ring dip was way back in dickity-ought-eight while doing a WOD with Samy Daghir of CrossFit NH (which didn't exist yet at that time). I thought, "I'm pretty good at dips...can't wait to do actual ring dips...I'm-a wreck this shit...." Well I soon found out how different it was. It took me a very, very long time to finish and then I paid the price the next day. Having dove head-long into an Rx'd WOD like an ass-hat the first time I ever touched a ring proved to be more foolish than a blow job from a piranha. For my troubles I had pulled basically everything that connects your head to your body - my neck was as useless as nipples on a forehead - for a week. Thus began my war against the ring dip.

...more foolish than a blow job from a piranha

Feeling like this all day usually leads to great things...

While I was separated from the light (sidelined from barbell training) I relentlessly worked on goats, which of course included ring dips. I got better at them...a lot better actually. Or, so I thought. I was fired up going into "Elizabeth" yesterday. All day long I could hear the Scorpions pounding in my head signaling the ride of the Valkyries out from Valhalla and the start of the WOD. I was AMPED to crush this and was fully confident I would lay waste to my PR.

Each kip felt as ill-timed as a room clearing, window melting fart at a wake.

Daigle fails attempt #543565464

In the first round, I annihilated the squat cleans. I did 16 straight, then finished the round. I think I hit the rings a few seconds before Matt (who's a legit firebreather) from AF did. He SMOKED the ring dips and was back at the bar in no time....It took me a while. I went shit-house on the cleans again and caught up....we both got back to the rings for the 15 round at the same time. That's when things got uglier than Snooki at the breakfast table. I couldn't get more than two dips in a set, and I was fried....Each kip felt as ill-timed as a room clearing, window melting fart at a wake. Once again, I wrecked the 9 cleans...by this time many people had already finished, recovered, and had a spot of tea...it was around the 8 minute mark. I watched in horror as the time ticked by between failed lock-outs. It took a solid minute to complete the very last dip. I was apoplectic...with the rage laser-focused on the rings, which had now become the personification of evil itself. The time was MUCH slower than my PR, and I need to re-assess how I approach this WOD. Heather had an interesting theory which I should have listened to BEFORE the workout. Apparently I learn the hard way.

This poses an interesting question...what's more frustrating, the result being equal: Knowing you gave everything you had, and dealing with the result being far less than acceptable? Or, knowing you could have done better if you'd been more focused - you could have tried harder? The 1st is certainly more frustrating....because that means it's all you had, but at least you know you're not a pussy.

Elizabeth: 21-15-9

Squat cleans (135)

Ring Dips

10:19 Rx'd (PR was 8:49)

Running with the devil

2011-01-05T10:53:00.000-05:00

If you've been around here for awhile you're most likely aware that I like running about as much as doing wall balls with 45lb blow fish with titanium spikes, filled with the tears of small children. Not much has changed. While I'm not slow (and that's not to say that I'm fast) I just dislike max effort runs which are longer than 400m.

Enter the mile.

The mile fucking blows. It's the Fran of running. Long enough to completely erase your will to live, and put you in a very deep hole. Short enough to require a nearly all-out dead sprint. However, much like Fran if you "choose the wrench" and beat yourself to a bloody heaving pulp on the mile run, the rewards are immense....most of the time. Like back at the beginning of the paleo challenge in September for example. I just gave it hell, faced up to the pain and pushed, pushed, and pushed until as Edward Norton said in Fight Club, "...Until my muscles burned, and my veins pumped battery acid. Then I ran some more." I finally broke the 6:00 barrier, and ran a 5:58 mile. Not bad for a short fat kid....the feeling was intense when it was over. It was almost as satisfying as the C&J event at regionals.

As I said, most times the mile is a prodigious effort with a great pay off. This was not one of those times.

The experience was similar this time, except that I fucked up and ran the first 400m WAY too fast (again). I was feeling pretty good....nice fresh legs, good wind - dare I say, fit? - as I came up the driveway to end the first lap. It was then that the esteemed Mat Frankel bellowed out the split times as I touched the wall, "1:22!!! 1:23!!!" To which I replied, "FFFFFFUUUUUU!!!!" I knew I messed up, and that it was nearly unrecoverable...however I wasn't quitting. That 8 seconds of extra speed caught up with me HARD in the third lap though. I was passed most swiftly by Doole and Pat, ending my hopes of a PR and the righteous dopamine reward that comes with it. Instead, I finished in 6:19, a full 21 seconds slower than my PR. It hurt every bit as bad only there was no pay off. Daigle is not pleased. The bummer is, I DIDN'T dog it. I actually had a great attitude the whole time and kept pushing. I fought that devil on my shoulder telling me to dial it back. He's a fucking douchebag anyways. This was just the result I ended up with...it was all I had yesterday. That makes me want to punch a baby panda. As always if it wasn't for the other athletes from CFNE I'd most likely have run a 7min mile. The group effort was awesome as always, and work frican got done. Awesome job all around by the 5:30pm last night, and congrats to Garv for finally cracking 6min WITH a car parked in the forbidden space nonetheless.

I will Pr....'cause fuck fight gone bad, that's why.

I'll pick the hammer back up this afternoon and get back on the trusty CF steed. Fight gone bad? Cool...must develop work capacity. Never, ever dwell on the results of the previous WOD, move on and accept the challenge - and opportunity - to improve. I will Pr....'cause fuck fight gone bad, that's why.

Domain of fire

2011-01-03T14:48:00.000-05:00

Well I bit the bullet and registered www.daiglebreathesfire.com as my domain. So now if you go to the blogspot address it SHOULD redirect you to the aforementioned domain. If it doesn't, well then you're not reading this and I am a moron. However, if you should experience any problems with it let me know!

Choose the Wrench

2010-12-29T11:04:00.001-05:00

Will: He used to just put a belt, a stick, and a wrench on the kitchen table and say, "Choose."
Sean: Well, I gotta go with the belt there.
Will: I used to go with the wrench.
Sean: Why?
Will: Cause fuck him, that' why.

Good Will Hunting offers some great advice about being hard as fuck. Since I've heard some similar tales of woe about the workout last night, I wanted to address them unilaterally here. Part of what went on last night is a major mental component of your training. If you want to be able to face any challenge in CrossFit, or anyplace else for that matter you have to think like a warrior. Everyone struggles with this at times, myself included. However, when I've been able to perform at a high level, it's been because of the ability to think this way.

In case you missed it, yesterday CFNE was tossed a little curveball. Something to the effect of, "Ok...athletes set....oh, and now you're doing FRAN....3,2,1, GO!"

I'm going to break this fucking workout in half. It will rue the day it dared fuck with me.

More than one person bemoaned how they felt about this chicanery. When I heard it, I was pissed that I wasn't there. Like there was an epic party with weirdest shit ever heard of, and I missed it. I was almost dejected. Why? I love challenges like that. I think all competitors do, or at least learn to. I'm sure the elite competitors among us (Derek, Heather, Big Bri, James, Etc) all feel that way. It's a complete paradigm shift....Flipping the switch so to speak. So that when you're mentally prepared for WOD XYZ, then at the last instant someone drops a BOMB on you (and giving 3 seconds notice that you're doing Fran is basically dropping the Tsar Bomba on you)....you don't react negatively. Instead of, "Aww what the fuck!" or, "Goddamnit!" It's more like, "OH FUCKING YES!!!!" and instead of thinking that this sucks, and It's going to hurt and that you're not going to PR, etc etc.....your inner monologue is more akin to, "YES....I'm going to break this fucking workout in half. It will rue the day it dared fuck with me."

Choose the wrench.

When the challenge, the fight, the slap in the face...becomes a welcome visitor. When you learn to SEE the challenge instead of the calamity or the hardship, and love it. That's when you're ready. That's when you are able and willing to shift into what Josh Everett calls his "other gear." It's that state where the pain is there, you feel it, but it doesn't matter. You're above it. You're now refusing to be broken, and this is when you realize that you can run a little faster or hit a triple instead of a single. Just decide to do it, it's that simple.

You need to train yourself to love the suck...it's what we do. This is our kung-fu...and it is strong. When you're ready to do Angie, and then at the last second, oops, we're doing DT; Instead of choosing to be pissed or feel sorry for yourself, decide instead to own it...and CRUSH the workout for interrupting your afternoon. You are more powerful than it is. Its smug entrance to your day is an arrogant, F-smiling attempt to take your heart. To stop you from succeeding, and steal your opportunity to hit a PR, or to get better, faster, stronger. Send it back to the dark ages. Why? 'Cause FUCK him, that's why. Choose the wrench.

Fitness for Man....Or Beasts

2010-12-28T11:28:00.004-05:00

Rowing = apoplectic rage face

The intense wasteland of atmospherically frozen water droplets and total, utter white-out conditions was no match for the intrepid members of Team CFNE yesterday. A few of us braved the wind on a night most would argue wasn't fit for man or beast. However, It was a great night for Beasts to get fitter. Sectionals will be here before we know it, and some of us (especially myself) have more catching up to do than Daigle at a Rowing/wall ball/rope climb event. The posted WOD yesterday was heavy split jerks, which I LOVE. I've missed them so in the past few months...almost as much as my childhood memories of the all-you-can-eat pasta superbar thing at Wendy's.

There were 11 of us last night, and some great stuff went down. A few people just came in for team bonding quality time (AKA foam rolling, mobility work, stretching, and support of comrades), a few hit OHS PR's....

John Doole got his FMFMU (First Motherfucking Muscle Up!) Congrats dude!

...awkward as a 13yr old kid trying to get to second base without getting his braces caught on anything.

Now that I'm supposedly OK to lift again, I couldn't wait to do some angry split jerking! I tried to be cautious and take it easy, as I'm just getting back at it. I think I was moderately successful. I didn't go for a PR, but I did manage to get up to 230lbs which is only 15lbs shy of my PR. I was pretty pumped about it, considering I haven't done an oly lift of any kind in months. When I do the Burgener warm-up my snatches feel as clumsy and awkward as a 13yr old kid trying to get to second base without getting his braces caught on anything. I was a little apprehensive going in, but it felt good. I was proud of myself for walking away at 230 and not trying to push the envelope....but god did I want to! Everytime I walk into the box now it's like, "BARBELLSSSS!!!! ZZZOMFGWTFBBQ!!!!!"

Ahh, Hypoxia...how I've missed you...

After putting a barbell over my head with the zeal of televangelist, I was feeling pretty cocky. So I found something to knock myself down a few pegs. A little thing we like to call the Concept 2. A machine which Doole would like to hammer-throw off his roof. I don't blame him. There can't be another device on earth that can simultaneously dissolve your quadriceps in a pool of their own lactic acid and rip out your still (rapidly) beating heart and collapsing your lungs while you gasp fruitlessly for air that's as likely to show up as a baby's daddy after his Maury Povich DNA test. The seering mental pain that roils your consciousness as you pull with all your might, only to watch the "/500m" Pace go UP...mocking your feeble attempts at rowing would pallor the face of even the Epic Rage guy.


The C2 Display in Daigle Hell. I found this on a cool Blog,

CF Endurance WOD: 3x1000M row, with 2min rests....not slowing more than 10 seconds.

3:36.9, 3:36.9, 3:38.3.

I will clearly never be a great rower.... this hurt like a kick to the jimmy from Beelzebub.
.
As Ben put it on the website today....It's time to walk down the path. Just as Morpheus said to Neo in the Matrix, "...you're going to realize, just as I did, that there's a difference between knowing the path, and walking the path." Truer words have ne'er been spoken, and I'll be damned if this wasn't a good step down that path for me. It's been awhile since I did a difficult, non-wheelhouse, un-programmed workout of my own volition. It was awesome to have all the support too, great crew in the box last night. We need to keep doing this. It's time once again, to get nasty. In order to be at peace come spring, we're going to have to fight like hell to succeed in competition....we must join the battle.

Si vis pacem parabellum - If you seek peace....prepare for war.

Credit for the awesome C2 sketch goes to Something About Rowing An amazing combination of rowing and rage....CrossFitters will sympathize.

Holiday excess

2010-12-27T10:42:00.000-05:00

In accordance with the tradition started last year....lets talk about what I ate over the Christmas holiday weekend. A delineation of what I did not eat would certainly be shorter, but not nearly as much fun. The scary part was I actually felt alright most of the time...Perhaps I get a pass on Christmas. Although I doubt very seriously that God was like, "Ya know what...I think I'm gonna hook Daigle up and let him eat whatever he wants with impunity." In any case, lets' run it down in chronological order. Duplicates exist, because they happened at different times. If your food log for the paleo challenge looks like this, you might want to quit now. This is over a 36hr period beginning around 2:30pm on Friday afternoon. May god have mercy on my soul (or lower intestines...whatever).

Peanut butter cup cookie
Latte
Cheese (variety)
Crackers
Pepperoni
Sugar cookies
chocolate chip cookies
Gingerbread cookies
Macaroons
Chocoloate
Pizza
Buffalo chicken dip
Tortilla chips
Fudge
Cheese crackers (the kind that come in little packages)
Egg Nog
Roast beef
Carrots & peas
Baked potato
Ravioli (stuffed with ricotta)
Cream Soda
7-Layer Brownies (I had about 20 of these throughout the afternoon Xmas day)
Chocolate chip cookies
gingerbread cookies
sugar cookies
assorted chocolates
Egg Nog cake
Vanilla Chai Cake
Chocolate cup cake
Cheesecake bites (with flaky crust)
cheese
pepperoni
crackers
Brownie chocolate trifle
Guacamole
Tortilla chips
Several beers
Teriyaki skewers (chicken and beef)
"Paleo muffins"
Cheeseburger and fries

In between the guacamole and the beers, Sunday morning happened. Which included a workout who's brutality has rarely been seen within the walls of CFNE. If you came in to do "Bull" on Sunday morning you're already well aware. Very few people even finished it (I was not one of them). This WOD made damn sure you paid the piper for all the transgressions of the previous day. I think I'm medically unable to ever do double unders again.

Bull

2 rounds for time:

200 Double unders

50 OHS (135,95...I scaled it to 115)

50 Pull ups

1mile run

I hit the 50min cutoff 25 pull up deep in the 2nd round. This WOD was to working out what red hot pokers are to torture. Complete suffering. Well, on to the next one!

All I want for Christmas is my Barbells back

2010-12-24T14:58:00.000-05:00

All I want for Christmas is my Barbells Back.

So today is the Day before Christmas. Definitely my favorite day of the year...I love Christmas eve more than cookies and PB COMBINED. You fuckin' heard me. Ever since I was a kid, It's always just had this electric feeling. Even though I'm now painfully aware that Santa Claus isn't real, this year in at least one small way I've already got what I wanted, and it was the only thing I asked for:

All I want for Christmas is my Barbells Back.

Well yesterday that dream came true. After visiting yet another Dr., and getting assurance that despite the pain my back is not going to implode like your colon after eating a fruit cake, I'm ready to feel the steel again. Not to be anti-climactic, the universe picked DT out of the big workout hopper of the cosmos (that's where mainsite WODs come from in case you didn't know). So, on the day before Christmas I'd get the green light AND be handed one of the most epic barbell complexes in all of CrossFit.

5rnds for time:

12 Deadlifts (155)
9 Hang Power Cleans (155)
6 Push Jerks (155)

7:08 (115lbs)

I have a better chance of getting tagged by Jesus H. Christ himself with a strap on...

Yup, I scaled it. Why? because that's smart. Hold on now...I didn't say I was smart, the scaling is. My dumb as fuck athlete innards were screaming at me to put 155 on the bar...to which I replied, no fucking way. Then they came back with, "well at least do it with 135." Ok, "we'll warm that up and see how it feels" I said. That bar felt like 10,000lbs and the glee I had felt just being able to touch a bar after 2.5 months turned to dread. I realized I had no business using that much weight just yet. In fact when it comes to finishing DT prescribed or even with 135lbs right now, I have a better chance of getting tagged by Jesus H. Christ himself with a strap on, on Christmas eve.

I managed to talk sense into myself, and drop down to 115lbs for the WOD. It felt like 250lbs. Even though I went through the wod quickly (it was light) it FELT really heavy. However, being done a WOD in which I didn't have to sub anything felt pretty good. Not only that, but now it was on to Central Street for an epic omelet, and then...CHRISTMAS EVE.

Keeping in line with my Christmas Eve shennanigans of last year, I've concocted (read: stolen and paraphrased) a Christmas song/rhyme for our CFNE contingent. If you're not familiar with Run D.M.C.'s "Christmas Time in Hollis Queens" then you're an un-american asshole. It's certainly a neo-classic and not knowing it is akin to not having seen "The Goonies" at least 17 times. So, without Further ado......

Christmas in Natick

It was December 24th at 15 Tech and still dark
When I seen people chillin' in the lot where we park
I approached very slowly, tired 'n' sore from the booze
Opened the door so they could strap on their shoes
By then I was Illin' 'cause the WOD was DT
I knew damn well what was in store for me
Mel called out for a 3,2,1 GO
Our hearts said YES, but our Bodies said NO
Got some chalk on the hands like a puff of smoke
Realized even light, this WOD ain't no joke
Pullin', and cleanin' and Jerkin' like mad
My Christmas Innuendo makes Jesus sad
Soon it'll end and we'll be all done
The CrossFit's version of holiday fun
Garv, the Twins, Stacy and Mel
CrossFit New England is cool as hell!

It's Christmas time in Natick Mass
Daigle passed out cookies 'cause he's an ass
Turkeys and hams, carrots and beets
Paleo Omelets from Central Street
Decorate the gym with Iron and Steel
CFNE gots holiday appeal
DT is rough, but at least we didn't jog
And now it's time to drink egg nog
The Rhymes you hear are the Rhymes of Daigles'
'Cause each and every year he busts Christmas fables....

Tunes so loud and proud you hear it
It's Christmas time and we got the spirit
Jack Frost turnin' our knuckles white
That's what makes our box so tight
The time is now, the place is here
CrossFitters 'round the world filled with cheer

My Name's K.M.D with a crazy ill beard
I'm a stop rhymin' before shit gets weird
Put down the bar, and crack a cold beer
Merry Christmas CFNE...and Happy New Year!

Sleighing the Holidays

2010-12-17T08:41:00.000-05:00

I love the holiday season, I truly do. I'm no different than most, as some of my fondest childhood memories center around the period begun at the giving of thanks, and ended at the celebration of alcohol withdrawals. Time is spent with old friends seldom seen, family (sometimes for the better) missed, neighbors, and loved ones. The majority of the world feels part of the larger human family, and we eat, drink and be merry with those around us. This is a time of great joys....except for your crazy inappropriate aunt - but hey, it's a big holiday shit sandwich and everyone has to take a bite.

People are generally friendlier, more giving, loving, and all together more human at this time of year. This leads to all manner of warm and fun interaction with people you run into out and about. Suddenly you say hi to people on the street who you'd usually never even make eye contact with. You'll shake hands with people who you routinely don't even say hello to. Cashiers at stores become conversational partners instead of just the robotic "Hi, how are you?"

One such event took place at wholefoods just last evening. I took a trip to the Andover "whole paycheck" for some specialty ingredients needed for some spectacular culinary delights I'm working on. This situation was fraught with danger from the beginning. A trip to Wholefoods for me is like a recovering crack addict going to the Neiman Marcus of drugs. Coupled with the non-CrossFit-type average clientele present this can make for some interesting interaction. I grabbed some coconut butter, which by the way is DANGEROUSLY delicious, and headed for the checkout. I did have a slight detour for some marcona almonds. Oh, and some macadamia nut butter....and a larabar, and some gluten free chocolate chips. People would be disappointed in otherwise.

Anywhoo as I was checking out the friendly albeit hippie/vegan-ish looking cashier inquired about the uses of coconut butter, which I jovially explained was for a treat I was concocting in the laboratory I call a kitchen. She found this delightful, and informed me that she'd heard of the substance but never tried it. Then she said, "I heard something about swishing it between your teeth....like it kills bacteria." Not one to be taken aback by even the most absurd claims, I calmly replied, "Or you could just use mouthwash, considering it's made for the purpose, it's not as thick as grape jelly, and doesn't cost $15 a pint. Besides, that sounds like made-up crunchy granola hippie bullshit....Well, Merry Christmas!"

Then I drove home listening to the Andy Williams Christmas Album.

I love the holidays.

Tis' the Season

2010-12-15T11:29:00.000-05:00

A post by Lisbeth Darsh of CrossFit Watertown the other day got me thinking. Especially with it being the holiday season and all...what exactly is the nature of forgiving and what role does it play in our lives? It's definitely an intriguing concept with more faces than the a chick from the Jersey shore. I think the most interesting question to ask is with regards to its value; is it an altruistic and extrinisically motivated exercise? Or, is it completely intrinsic and self serving?

The dogma of forgiveness is something that I've struggled with most of my life. It's hard to give people a pass when they've wronged you in some way. We're taught through parables, fables, religion, etc that forgiving those who do us wrong is taking the high road. Most of us struggle in doing this, it's a learned behavior not an inborn inclination. This makes sense...if it was a natural instinct we'd all be predisposed to let people run roughshod over us as if we were henpecked husbands, a la Macbeth. We're naturally programmed to rail against the tide, and push back when shoved. So what gives?

It seems as though, right or wrong, that we tend to hold that which is NOT our natural tendency in higher regard - I.E. Self Denial and discipline. A lot of this makes sense in terms of an organized, civil society and for the sake of productivity. Left to our biological wanton whim, we're far more likely to end up on a 3 week bender with the Patriots cheerleaders in a hotel suite in Atlantic City than we are to become a minister or a professor. Forgiving is much the same. It's as baser, more primal need to trip the sonofabitch each time they walk by than it is to let bygones be bygones and shake on it. Therefore, the concept is a useful social/cultural construct created and propagated for a purpose. It certainly has it's place...but that doesn't mean that all people/things MUST be forgiven. Some things are simply too egregious to let go. As George Bernard Shaw put it:

“The secret of forgiving everything is to understand nothing.” - George Bernard Shaw

At one point I was the worst holder of grudges imaginable. People crossed me, and it was then my lifelong mission to inflict retribution at every turn. This approach is as heavy-handed as the vengeful gods of Greek Mythology, and never ends well. I eventually came around and started to forgive people for some things, and my life got better. I would say I'm a convert on that front. However...I don't normally give people second chances either, which I don't believe is a prerequisite for forgiving them.

That's where people get it mixed up I think; Forgiveness is not absolution. If you want absolution, talk to God...not me (I applied for the job, but it required an advanced degree in smiting). Just because you let something go, doesn't mean you have to continue with the offending party like nothing happened - You are not Hillary Clinton.

This isn't an indictment of forgiving, only perhaps, a clarification of what it really means...to me at least. Adding to that the fact that forgiveness is not necessarily a completely altruistic endeavor. Ask yourself, are you forgiving because it's the right thing to do or because it makes you feel better?...because it appeals to your inner guilt-ridden catholic school child? In those cases, while the end result could in fact be forgiveness, the motive is purely selfish.

"There is no revenge so complete as forgiveness." - Josh Billings

If you subscribe to the mantra of ends justifying means, then I suppose it doesn't really matter. Working in a soup kitchen helps people, and no one will question it's worth as a charitable act. Suppose however, you're some weirdo that does it because it gives you a boner. Is it still helping someone? Sure...motive has changed though. Does it truly matter?

That's a judgment I'll leave to you.

Are you motivated by release from guilt, altruism, or boners?