My name is Eric, I’m 31, and I live in Denver, Colorado. A few weeks ago I made what I thought was a harmless, polite comment to my friend Jake.
Jake is one of those people whose entire personality revolves around CrossFit.
Every conversation somehow turns into a story about “the WOD,” personal records, protein intake, or how amazing it feels to wake up at 5 a.m. to flip giant tires.
Normally I just nod and change the subject.
But one evening while we were grabbing dinner, he asked me if I had ever tried CrossFit.
I made the mistake of saying the following sentence:
“Not really… but I might try it sometime.”
Apparently in CrossFit language, that sentence means:
“Please immediately begin recruiting me into your fitness cult.”
The next morning at exactly 5:45 a.m., my phone buzzed.
It was Jake.
“Rise and grind! First workout starts at 6!”
I assumed he was joking.
Then I heard music outside my apartment.
Very loud music.
I looked out the window and saw Jake standing in the parking lot next to his truck blasting what I can only describe as aggressively motivational workout music.
He was holding a kettlebell.
I ignored the call and went back to sleep.
But that did not stop him.
The following morning he showed up again.
5:45 a.m.
Same playlist.
Same kettlebell.
This time he texted:
“Today is leg day. You’re going to love it.”
Now, I should point out that I never actually agreed to any workout schedule.
But Jake seems to believe he’s my personal trainer now.
Over the past two weeks he has shown up outside my apartment multiple times with different pieces of workout equipment.
One day it was resistance bands.
Another day it was a giant medicine ball.
Yesterday he brought a jump rope and two dumbbells.
Every time he shows up he plays the same kind of music — dramatic beats, people shouting things like “NO EXCUSES” and “PUSH THROUGH THE PAIN.”
Meanwhile I’m inside pretending I’m not home while eating cereal.
Last Saturday I finally opened the door and told him I appreciated the enthusiasm but I wasn’t ready to start CrossFit yet.
He nodded seriously and said, “That’s normal. The fear phase.”
Apparently reluctance is just part of the recruitment process.
This morning he texted again.
“Tomorrow we try kettlebell swings and burpees.”
I’m starting to suspect that saying “I might try CrossFit sometime” was the fitness equivalent of accidentally signing up for a lifetime membership.
At this point my options seem to be:
Actually join CrossFit…
Or move to a different apartment before Jake shows up with a full tire-flipping station in the parking lot.
Either way, I’ve learned an important lesson.
Never casually mention fitness curiosity to someone whose alarm clock is set for 5:30 a.m. workouts.
