Blind Eye
Sometimes, I wish I couldn't see the mistakes.
It would be great to turn a blind eye. Just cheer and not critique, only offer praise and simply abandon the concept of criticism – in the gym, as a parent, and with the written word. It would be awesome to just say "Great work!" and move on. No hard feelings, no sadness, no trying to craft words so that people don't unintentionally get upset with you.
But that's not me.
And it's probably not you.
When you see something, I'm betting you speak up.
When we study something intensely – anything – be it Olympic weightlifting, writing, or clog dancing (I'm just seeing if you're paying attention here), we have a hard time not noticing the flaws, the mistakes, the things that could be done better: this second pull, that foot position, that comma.
Somewhere inherent in our knowledge is our responsibility.
F***ing responsibility.
Something we clamor for all our lives and simultaneously resent. Because once you know better, you should do better. And if you know better, you should teach someone else better. It's at the heart of life ... and CrossFit. I once heard Coach Greg Glassman say this about CrossFit: "Once you learn it, it's your responsibility to teach it to someone else." And that applies to a lot of things.
So, no complaining, no crying, no hiding your knowledge under a bushel and saving it for yourself.
If you know better, share it.
Now does this mean you get to be a blowhard asshole, proclaiming you know best in every situation? No. Nobody likes that person. Learn some tact and figure out when to shut up. And remember your roles: be a student when you're supposed to be a student.
But if you've got good knowledge, make sure you avail yourself of every opportunity to share it. Help your neighbors, help your buddies, and help your kids. Lots of people have enough friends in the world but I've yet to meet anybody who said they had enough coaches or mentors.
If you know your shit, speak up.
With knowledge, comes responsibility. And maybe (hopefully!) more PRs.