A Peculiar Notion of Fitness

For close to a year now, I’ve been exercising fairly regularly with CrossFit. I don’t want to dwell on the subject of what CrossFit is; check out the website if you’re interested, I can certainly recommend its effectiveness. But the basic description is this: CrossFit is based around the development of a broad, general fitness that leaves you ready for anything.

They call it GPP, or General Physical Preparedness. It’s contrasted with specific, focused types of fitness, such as what you’d acquire as a highly specialized ultramarathon runner. Someone who runs ultras will be outstanding at long-distance running. However, that is essentially all they will be good at; when you start to mix up the variables, they will always suffer. They can’t lift heavy things. They can’t perform in brief, intense intervals. They can’t even do very well running distances much shorter than they’re used to, at higher speeds.

The idea of GPP, conversely, as that you can do anything. Within a month of CrossFit workouts, you’ve run long and short distances, pulled your body on all angles, pushed your body on all angles, picked up heavy weights, picked up light weights, thrown things, held yourself in uncomfortable positions, and done it all across a wide range of durations, combinations, and circumstances. So while the runner is better than you at running incredible distances (though you aren’t too bad yourself), you are better than him at basically everything else.

That’s the party line, and it’s not that radical; arguments against the CrossFit philosophy (and on the internet, there are always arguments) usually center around other things rather than debating the basic concept. What all of this means is that someone like a Navy SEAL or a firefighter, a construction worker or a Peace Corps volunteer, anyone who depends on their ability to “do things”—depends on it with their life, or their mission, or their job—can be physically able to address whatever challenges may arise. They are strong enough, fast enough, and possessing of sufficient stamina; whatever demands may arise, expected or unexpected, they will not fail due to their level of fitness. (I said I don’t want to get too much into the details of CrossFit methodology, but just to give an example of this, they list ten properties that should be worked towards in a fitness program: cardiovascular endurance, stamina, strength, flexibility, power, speed, coordination, accuracy, agility, and balance. What can’t you do with those things?)

Anyway, this is all peachy, but the downside to a CrossFit workout is that it’s one of the most dismal experiences available on this Earth. “Intensity” is one of their key tools and every workout exhibits it in spades. Your muscles fail, throb, and scream; your lungs heave and you cover the ground in sweat; your system runs altogether out of power, and if you haven’t experienced real anaerobic metabolic failure before, I promise it’s not your daddy’s “tired.” All of this happens pretty much every time, and it doesn’t get better—CrossFit is all about variety, precisely so you don’t get used to the stimulus and start to adapt to it. So five or six days a week (cycles of 3 days on, 1 day off), you spend a chunk of time doing terrible things. It’s usually not long, but considering the time you spend in terror of the workout beforehand and recovering from it afterwards, it might as well be. Add in time spent with skill development, learning this or that, improving your form or screwing with your diet, and this stuff becomes a major part of your life. For me, anyway.

What’s the point? Whenever this topic comes up with people for the first time, whenever they get a look at CrossFit (one glance at the workouts on the website is usually enough), they usually ask why I’m doing it. I don’t really have a sport to train for, I don’t have any clear needs like the aforementioned firefighter does. When I’m not working out, in fact, I’m often somewhat sedentary. So why subject myself to all this?

Two reasons. The first is not very exciting, and amounts to pure vanity. I have a larger ego than I like to let on (to others or to myself), and while my natural build is okay, it’s not like what CrossFit can do to your body. So there’s that. However, I could certainly undertake a much less hostile bodybuilding program, something tailored only to make me look pretty, and while some CFers argue you end up looking better our way (which I find questionable), any disparity in results is certainly not worth the immense difference in effort. So that’s not the whole story.

The other reason is the interesting one, and unpacks like this: I want to be able to do whatever I want to do. Clear as mud? Think back to how I described CrossFit and GPP. No, I don’t have a specific need, but that just means the “general” part is even more important. I want to be able to do anything.

Well, I can’t do anything. There are countless reasons why I can’t do whatever I want in life. There are financial limitations, legal and social constraints, and even other, counterbalancing personal motivations that might make me desist.

But I don’t ever want the restriction to be physical.

If something’s within the realm of human ability, I want to be physically capable of it, so that any obstacles fall under other headings, which I can address in their own ways (make more money, etc.).

So this can be big or little, serious or frivolous. Maybe I want to hike a mountain. Maybe I want to join the Marines. Maybe I want to explore a cave. Maybe I just really want to climb that building over there. Maybe I want to play rugby with some friends. Climb into my third-story window when I lock myself out. Pick up some furniture. Break down a door. Push my car. Impress a girl. Take up a new sport, martial art, or activity.

Whatever it is, I just want to have that avenue open, and I don’t want to wait around while I train up for it (even when in cases where that’s possible), so I need to be already prepared—a state which has its own kind of power and comfort. When it really comes down to it, it’s a question of freedom. If nothing else, I can at least be the master of my physical free will.

Some people really like the challenge. They enjoy being pushed to their absolute limits. Some enjoy the unpleasantness; there’s something masochistic about it. Some enjoy the competition, the opportunity to be truly excellent. I just want the results. If I could be as capable and healthy as my biological limits allowed by sitting on my ass eating truffles, I would love it. But I can’t.

Who knows. Maybe my views will change on all this. I do have a pattern of getting deeply into various interests, then eventually dropping them. But I can’t really imagine going back to total apathy about my fitness, or moving in any direction other than practical, general preparedness. Some things just don’t regress.

Doesn’t mean I like doing high-rep thrusters, though.