Confessions of a Cherry Picker
I picked. Often. I didn’t go in on the days my gym posted something running-ish or gymnastics-ish or just not barbell-ish. (Although I never fled after reading the whiteboard. I do know people who’ve done that, though. One look and poof! They were gone.)
Sometimes I did it because I was tired, or scared. And sometimes I was just tired of sucking at things. When I was an affiliate owner, it wasn’t so bad — I controlled the programming, right? As a member though, I was at the mercy of another coach. Gulp. Beads of sweat. Control issues …
I’ve cherry picked my way across three continents and most of the fifty states. But it’s over.
I don’t cherry pick anymore. I’m reformed. I show up at the 6am class, four days a week. If we’re squatting, I squat. If we’re double-undering, I’m in. If we’re tossing back bourbon, I’m grabbing a glass. Okay, maybe that was a dream, but you get it. My coach writes it, I’m doing it.
How did this change occur? I’d like to spew a lot of words about how I matured, how my fitness improved, how with mental training and razor-like focus I willed myself into a warrior like those at Valhalla.
The truth might be different.
I actually just found the right fit: a class time that fits (6am) with a coach that fits, at an affiliate where a main focus (barbell movements) is something that thrills me and forces my feet into sneakers at a dark hour when most people are still dreaming about riding dinosaurs and having sex. (Not together. Get your mind out of weird places. Jeez.) The routine allows me (psychologically) to deal with the unexpected.
It’s not a big, sexy answer. But, sometimes, that’s exactly how we find what works. This feels right. Safe, I can embrace the opportunity to feel unsafe. Or, I just stopped being a pu**y. Either answer will be graded as correct.