A collection of words from past posts:
You can beat me. But not defeat me.
It’s time to stop playing “Little Suzie was a good girl and gets a treat” and start playing “Little Suzie wants 20 f***ing pull-ups.”
Adjust your own attitude. Weave your own hope. Life will get better when you get better.
Do what tightens your throat and drops your heart into your stomach: it’s the only way to find out what you’ve really got.
Throw yourself right on the damn line again, pain and scars and all.
Because once you truly experience the power of the barbell, you can’t ever go back.
CrossFit is a drug, like they say. If I was cut off from it, I really don’t know what I would do. At this point, I am willing to throw rocks through car windows and steal spare change in order to feed my habit. I am an addict. Ragged calluses are my track marks.
What are you afraid of? Just admit it . . . and free yourself. No one gives your fears any power but you.
For an hour a day, you get to take all of society’s polite expectations and old baggage and haunts of years gone by and throw that sh** in the corner.
Yell at your barbell, if you need to. Glare at it, scowl at it, get good and mad at it. Drop it, manhandle it, call it bad names.
Be brave. Choose better. And change. Even if your life is seriously f***ed, you will have to save yourself.
You already know in your heart what you are and who you are. What you might not know is what you could truly become.