If I really think about it, I know the barbell can’t save me.
It can’t offer me eternal salvation. Or money. Or even peace with all my decisions, however difficult they were.
The barbell can’t soothe a crying baby, or cure cancer, or even bring me back that split-second decision to accelerate on a wet North Carolina curve years ago in that little red car.
It can’t make me prettier, or smarter, or more accomplished.
By all rational thought, I should discard the barbell and buy some Mom jeans and take up scrapbooking or Zumba or some kind of “fitness” class wherein I try to dance or gyrate my way into a sexy body. That’s what “sensible women” of my age do, isn’t it?
But I doubt those sensible women have felt the cold steel in their hands. They probably haven’t wrapped their fingers around a 70 lb barbell and snatched it 30 times in a row, in the middle of a 2K rowing sandwich. They most likely have not felt the power of bringing that weight overhead and then throwing it down, rubber bouncing up from the ground, chalk particles wafting like snow through the summer rays of sunshine beating across the floor. Those women still think a workout must involve a cardio machine, and, maybe, if they’re feeling adventurous, a weight machine.
They don’t know they are a weight machine. The years are taking their toll. They can either carry that weight on their hips and their butts and their bellies for the rest of their lives . . . or they can put it in their hands, on a barbell, and toss it above their head. Maybe grunt. Most likely swear. But feel the power. Be the strength. Become dominant over themselves, over others, over the world right in front of them.
Because once you truly experience the power of the barbell, you can’t ever go back. It’s like that part in the old movie “Thelma and Louise” when Thelma says, “You know, something’s, like, crossed over in me and I can’t go back, I mean I just couldn’t live.”
There’s no going back now. Something’s, like, crossed over in me. Weak and mediocre just won’t cut it anymore. I just couldn’t live.
No, the barbell can’t save me . . . because I guess it already has.
(Words by Lisbeth Darsh/CrossFit Watertown.)
May 25th, 2010 at 6:08 am
BAM…WHOOT, WHOOT….
May 25th, 2010 at 6:54 am
Lis-
Beautiful and empowering words! Wow…
I love that feeling of strength and control that comes with lifting heavy stuff. It is addictive! I don’t ever want to let that feeling go…
Great stuff woman!
May 25th, 2010 at 7:15 am
Another beaut! I think that rower machine provides you with inspiration – seems every time you spend a lot of time on it something like this appears. I could be wrong
Otherwise, have you ever read Henry Rollins’ “Iron Mind” essay?
http://www.oldtimestrongman.com/henryrollins_iron.html
This reminded me of it. You and he might be kindred spirits. It is a great read.
May 25th, 2010 at 8:05 am
Iron Mind is the most romantic thing ever I read it all the time and feel mushy. It’s the love letter of ages!! Oh my dear Henry…your tough as nails with a big heart!
May 25th, 2010 at 8:12 am
In all seriousness, Henry really speaks to me in that article. If you want to know where that fire comes from that I can sometimes tap into during a WOD read this and you’ll know whats running around in my head!
“I used to fight the pain, but recently this became clear to me: pain is not my enemy”
May 25th, 2010 at 8:31 am
Nate — good link. I don’t think I ever read the full essay before, just a highlight or two. Rollins has some great words. (Although I must restrain myself from wanting to edit him. But then I want to edit everyone. LOL The red pen circle of hell for English teachers. Right, Sue?)
May 25th, 2010 at 8:48 am
And, Nate — I never thought about it, but you’re probably right. The rower — like the road bike, or the pool — leads me to places that the ordinary hustle of the day might obscure. It’s easy to shun the rower, because of the pain and the monotony — but it holds its own secrets and power that are often only revealed in the longer distances.
May 25th, 2010 at 9:05 am
I was just getting ready to buy some plaid shorts and join LA fitness until I read this.
May 25th, 2010 at 9:51 am
Brian, we all want to see you in those plaid shorts.
May 25th, 2010 at 12:04 pm
LOVE THIS!
May 25th, 2010 at 12:15 pm
I apologize to all the coaches… I signed up for the 6 but I might not make it until the 7 although the opportunity is present that I might make it to the 5. Sorry… most likely, I’ll be at the 6:00
May 25th, 2010 at 1:02 pm
Awesome words!
May 25th, 2010 at 1:08 pm
Nice post Lisbeth! So very true.
May 25th, 2010 at 1:43 pm
Great post ans great link Nate– Rollins is the MAN.. totally one of my heroes for more than 1 reason..
May 25th, 2010 at 5:02 pm
This is GREAT! Reading this just made me so happy
May 26th, 2010 at 5:12 am
A!
May 31st, 2010 at 10:42 am
Its like you read my mind!! Great post!!!
June 3rd, 2010 at 2:25 pm
Just stumbled across this website from another CF blog, and this is a fabulous article! It is exactly how I feel, but unless you have experienced it, you don’t understand.
Waiting patiently for my work day to be complete so I can go to my 4:30 WOD!!
Karyn
member at CrossFit Bay Area in Webster, TX