The Mob

A week from tomorrow, I am doing my third ever CrossFit competition.

In case you’re new here, CrossFit is a high intensity sport that combines gymnastics movements, cardio, and weightlifting to create functional fitness. Find yourself hanging off a ledge by your fingertips? CrossFit can help. Need to move the dining table you built that accidentally turned out to weigh 600 pounds? CrossFit can help. (And because of the community nature of the sport, other CrossFitters can help too.)

CrossFit competitions are meant to be tests of that functional fitness. In a high-stress environment: how fast can you lift the weights, how many times can you climb the rope, how long can you hang from a ledge (or pull-up bar)? They’re created to be tests of your all-around skill, strength, and endurance.

This is why the winners of the CrossFit Games (a worldwide competition) are called “The fittest man or woman on earth.”

Well, according to CrossFit.com, I am only the 35,905th fittest woman on earth (this only includes people who do CrossFit – out of the whole population, it’s probably more like 35 millionth), but I like tests and I am easily peer pressured, so I’m doing a competition.

This competition is supposed to be me against me. It’s supposed to measure how hard, fast, heavy, difficult I can go, against my past self. It’s not supposed to matter what other people can do or what they think of me.

But it does matter. The moment my friends started trying to talk me into competing was the moment my insecurities (let’s call them the Mob) gathered together and started shouting: “Don’t make a fool out of yourself! Don’t fail! Don’t show people how weak you are in comparison to others! Don’t embarrass yourself!”

The Mob is very loud and persuasive, but in this case, my friends were even more so. I conceded to my friends and signed up for the competition, but I couldn’t ignore the Mob. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself, so I’ve spent the last two months trying to get ready.

And it’s been a little rough.

Between counting macros (the number of grams of protein, carbs, and fat you eat), trying to get my body used to doing multiple workouts in one day, stretching so I don’t hurt myself, building up my strength and skills, and listening to the Mob voice their concerns, I’ve basically been tired, anxious, and sore for 2 months.

Here’s the weird thing: I am working harder because the Mob doesn’t want me to fail. But is that actually bad? If it wasn’t for the Mob, I wouldn’t be this strong or this fast or this healthy. Yes, I’d rather make those choices out of confidence and positive self-image rather than insecurity, but since we’re here now, do I really have anything to complain about?

All I can really do is try to keep moving, to keep getting healthier, to keep listening to my friends and the truth instead of the Mob. But I’m also okay with acknowledging how far the Mob has brought me in the past two months.

I’d love to hear I’m not alone in my struggle with the Mob. Have your insecurities ever helped you out?