I’m pretty sure Crossfit is like meth. Granted, I’ve never done meth, but we’ve all seen the “cops” episodes with the meth addicts who get bused and go through serious and violent withdrawals, and I totally see the correlation.
Today is day 5 of no Crossfit due to the strep throat that’s creating havoc in my body right now. I’m tweaking. Or maybe I’m twearking?
No, after a quick google search and checking with my good friends over at urban dictionary, I’m definitely tweaking. I don’t even think my body is capable of twearking. That’s some acrobatic stuff right there.
Back on topic, I miss Crossfit.
I miss the anticipation of the WOD. The excitement in the minutes leading up to when it’s posted the night before. The immediate reaction of “oh fun” or “oh f*ck” as soon as I see what maniacal plot the coaches have for us the next day.
I miss the thrill of walking into the box. The smell of 6 a.m., the groggy hello’s from fellow class mates. The moment that the first “that’s what she says” joke comes out, and we all start waking up a bit.
I miss the barbell in my hands, even when they’re sore and hurt and bleeding.
I’m craving that “oh my God I’m going to die. Or puke. But probably die” mid-WOD feeling.
And for the love of gluten free mac and cheese I miss that post-WOD endorphin bliss where you kind of want to do it all over again.
Ok so how all of that has anything to do with meth I have no idea, but I figure in some ways addiction is addiction.
And baby for Crossfit, I am one hell of an addict.