Just Another Day
written by Eric Devine
I swear I am training as hard as I can. I don’t want to look like an ass at the East Coast Challenge, rolling in with poor form and laughable metabolic conditioning. It’s hard, though, because I am so very much on my own. In her article, “Who Cares If I Look Stupid?”, Lisbeth Darsh writes about the necessity of leaving the garage and making the trek to your local affiliate, because you cannot be the athlete you intend to be without doing so. That sentiment pricked at me while I sat at my computer reading the main page WOD. I knew I needed to man up to it, as the design was a perfect fit for the E.C.C., rowing and burpees. But I was at home, and don’t have a rower and hate those damn SDHP. Therefore, on a day off, where I intended to get much more grading completed than I did, I took off to Albany.
I always feel a sense of trepidation upon arrival at Albany CrossFit. I don’t know all of the protocol and social nuances of the gym, and, therefore, have to act as if I belong. Thankfully, CrossFit attracts a welcoming bunch, who simply want to work hard, because that’s what awaits beyond the now yellow wall. Of course Jason knew that I was there for the rowing, and although unplanned, he added to the board the main site’s workout. After the warm-up I settled onto a C2 and, to my surprise, found company.
I think that if you checked in at 12 o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon at the local globo gym, you’d find that the trainer behind the counter attempting to stay awake to be the hardest working person in attendance. Not so at Albany CF. All around, as I tortured myself with rows and burpees, members toiled alongside me, or tackled “Cindy” or Deadlifts. Sweat poured, someone screamed and the pulsing momentum was completely normal, just another day.
At the end of my workout (23:05) I lay in a pool of sweat, happy to be finished, happy to have had the opportunity to row instead of assault myself with the bar, and happy to have been in an environment that fosters, respects and ekes out the performance within.
Being in the garage, and worse, at my school’s gym, is not by choice. Financial and familial constraints (3.5 year-old and 8 month-old girls) allow me only so much, but I don’t complain. I just bust my ass and hope it’s good enough. And sometimes I make it down to Albany to see how just another day can be something so much more.
