A group of people I’ve known for more than a year make up a majority of my crossfit classes. Like me their dedication waxes and wanes. We agree that crossfit delivers us what we need most out of a fitness routine – variety, intensity, camaraderie, and someone telling us what to do – but we also occasional chose a nice cold beer over a good workout. They’re a good group:

crossfit gym

In these classes an interloper or two invariably shows up for a short stretch. One such gentleman has taken up residence in my regular classes recently, let’s call him Georgie.

At the only class I attended this week, Georgie showed up too. Georgie is an oddly shaped man in his late thirties. A little round about the waist with skinny legs and a small, child-sized butt. To make matters worse, the man exclusively wears skintight clothing – running tights and an under-armor top this week. Why hasn’t someone told him running tights go UNDER running shorts? WHY?!? Even when we started the WOD I couldn’t stop judging him. You should see how this man abuses a rowing machine. Don’t even get me started on his power snatch….

Then I had a realization; I am only this critical when I feel unsure of myself.

During those warm days of summer when I could run a few miles with ease and found myself improving on every lift, I thought the whole class was wonderful. A bunch of inspirational all-stars, even the interlopers. But now, when I don’t feel particularly strong or fit or worthy, my mind jumps to distraction. What is he doing? Why isn’t he using better form? Oh shut up, brain.

Perhaps this should have been obvious but it wasn’t. Hopefully I can take this minor epiphany and learn to have some compassion for Georgie and myself. At least we made it to the gym. Good on us for trying. Hell, good for him for having the confidence to rock that body shoved in a hotdog casing look. Okay, no.

I could still do without the running tights.