I Joined A Cult

DCIM103GOPROI’ve joined a cult.

I hate to admit it, but it was inevitable, really.

My wife alls it my mid-life crisis. Last year, I ran my first obstacle course race. Okay, I ran my first seven OCRs.

I ran my first one mostly as a way to get me off of my ass and back into the gym. At 51 years and counting, working out wasn’t what it used to be. That was inevitable too, I guess. I’ve been in and out of gyms (mostly in) since I was 14 years old.

IArnold-Schwarzenegger-18t’s considerably different admiring the tight, toned muscles of a 20-something in the mirror after a good pump than it is the bulging, hairy stomach of a sweaty, heaving old fart.

It had become patently obvious that my inner Arnold Schwarzenegger  would never break free from my outer Louie Anderson. I was tired, listless, and when I stepped on the scale, it yelled, “Y’all get off!”

I knew that the only way I would stick to a training program was with a goal that was not weight,- or body-realted.

12191384_10206746163385582_8037757501077508401_oI started training on my own, and why not, I had 30+ years in the gym. When that didn’t work, I looked to Baton Rouge Bootcamp guru Jessie Lipoma to kick my ass and push me when I felt like calling in fat.

I pumped. I conditioned. I tabatta-ed. I ran through mud. Scaled walls. Climbed ropes. Threw spears. Toted sandbags. Jumped fire. Earned T-shirts. And was called a beast by my friends and family. I finished that year in the best shape of my life.

But it wasn’t enough.

I had been bitten by the OCR bug, and nothing short of a mud track and a mountain to climb would suffice.

But how could I reach the next level? I had already maxed out the possibilities at bootcamp. There are only so many burpees, stot-squats, and gorilla ropes a guy can do.

2014CFInvitational_rotatorSo, I joined a cult.

I started Crossfit this week. From now on, I will speak in AMRAPs, and Murphs. My gym is now a Box. My diet is now a caveman. Chalk is my best friend. Jerks are more difficult than raging assholes. A snatch is not just something in my porn. And rips are not just the enemy of my pants, but my palms as well.

My next OCR is just 5 months away. Stay tuned, and Hare Krishna.


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One thought on “I Joined A Cult

  1. Pingback: The Road to Fitness | Rick Is Not Writing . . . again

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