We
certainly like to joke about how we are. We wear t-shirts that talk
about the cult and make references to “drinking the Kool-Aid,” which,
when you think about it, is a rather macabre reference since 914 people
died in Jonestown, Guyana when they drank poison Kool-Aid offered by
their leader, Jim Jones. But we’re also the people who laugh at puking,
and chuckle at exhaustion, and, in some of our jobs, smile wryly at
death on a daily basis. Why? Because we would cry our eyes out
otherwise. Often, the sadness of this world is unbearable, beating down
on our chests with the weight of a thousand stones, each one heavier
than the last. So CrossFit helps us to beat back that sadness and gives
us the stamina to endure the ride. And so we laugh at the Kool-Aid
references. Nothing in this world can bring back those 914 souls
anyhow. Surely, not us.
But are we a cult? Maybe we are. We are a small
group of people, devoted to an idea, with a leader whom we praise.
Sounds like a cult. But then again so does Microsoft. And the
conservative movement. And even the New England Patriots. Maybe the
problem is not that our movement is small but that the definition of
the word “cult” is far too broad.
If we are honest, we might find that we’ve
actually belonged to several cults and followed this path previously. I
myself have belonged to a number of cults within my lifetime. No, I’ve
never worn a sari and danced in the airport with a tambourine (well, at
least not sober) but I’ve belonged to the Cult of Basketball, the Cult
of Beer, the Cult of Bruce Springsteen, the Cult of the US Air Force,
the Cult of Mountain Biking, and the Cult of Triathlon, among others.
But I guess the difference between those cult experiences and this
CrossFit experience is that no one’s lives were enhanced by my previous
participation in some of those cults. With the exception of my time in
the USAF cult, all were selfish pursuits. I am damn sure that not one
person was helped by my past participation in the Cult of Intellectual
Snobbery, whose leader was Susan Sontag. It fed my ego, certainly, but
that is not the same thing as feeding my soul. One path might lead to
salvation, while the other path only leads to more pain. So maybe we
need to define a cult not by narrowness of scope but by where it takes
you and who benefits by your cult membership. When your cult
participation only enlivens your own selfish ends, you might seem
fulfilled on the surface but, inside, you’re still left with that big,
gnawing hole in the center of your being, the place that Bruce
Springsteen describes in “Janey, Don’t You Lose Heart” by saying, “You
lie in bed and feel this emptiness.” But, what if your cult
participation – this obsession with an interest – leads you to be a
better person? What if your cult work helps to banish the emptiness in
you, and in others? Then, what is the harm?
So
we’re a cult. So what? We CrossFit. We seek to better ourselves through
an odd brand of functional fitness, and maybe, in this pursuit, we help
others. We eagerly ask others to join us, to share this passion that
drives us, becomes us, and, in a way, helps to complete us. Is that the
definition of a cult? Perhaps. But, if it is, save me a place at the
squat rack and pour another round of Kool-Aid: I’m buying.