What Are You Afraid Of?

What are you afraid of? Or not afraid of?

I'll go first, because I'm stupid that way.

I'm not afraid of the barbell, the keyboard, the kettlebell, or wall-ball.

I'm not afraid of the front squat. Pile a million pounds on me and I'm certain—beyond all reasonable and prudent thought—that I can rise, even if I can't.

But I'm scared of the back squat, because I can't see the weight. I'm afraid that weight will stay on me and never will I rise again. I'm afraid that I'll finally find the thing I cannot get myself out of.

I'm not afraid of the pull-up, the push-up, or the rower. These are my friends.

I’m not afraid of writing for more than 100,000 people. But talking about my feelings to one person? That scares the hell out of me. I'd rather do hundreds of burpees.

I'm scared of a mile run. I'm afraid everyone will be faster than me.

I'm not afraid of finishing first. Neither are you. But we're both scared of finishing last.

I'm not scared of you, but I'm scared of me.

And I'm scared of the words that come out of my mouth and from my fingers into this keyboard. Sometimes I don't really know how they get there. It feels like playing the piano but with letters. Suddenly there is this composition and it sounds beautiful but I don't really know how it happened even though I did it. Sometimes it feels like waking up and my truck is parked on the lawn. Sometimes this is exactly how I feel at the end of a workout too.

I'm scared that these words make no sense, but that I can no more keep them inside of me than I can hold the breath I just took. I have to exhale. These words are my exhale.

I'm scared that tomorrow I will wake up and CrossFit will be gone. Poof. Totally, completely evaporated from the face of the Earth. Disappeared in the night, like a sweat angel from the black rubber mats. And what would we do then?

What are you afraid of? Just admit it and free yourself.

No one gives your fears any power but you.