Crossfit Made Me Less Body Conscious

Unlike standard gyms, CrossFit doesn’t have big walls lined with mirrors. It doesn’t have men and women staring at themselves lined up in front of the dumbbells, headphones in, looking at their reflections as they pump.        

I was used to that standard gym scene. Everyone in their own sphere, disconnected from the people around them. I found myself envying the bodies of other guys, wanting various muscles like theirs. I would see myself in the mirror next to them, motivated to become like them.

Two months ago, I made the switch to CrossFit after four years of weightlifting in my standard fitness centers. I’ve traded full-length mirrors for concrete walls, my headphones for room-filling 80s rock or high-energy EDM, and glaring workout neighbors for an encouraging community of people.

My reason for changing my routine was time efficiency. On my own, I wasted hours a week planning my own fitness schedule, making sure I was stretching and hitting muscle groups in different ways. I also spent too much time in the gym, nearly two hours a day, five times a week. I was worried that I was becoming a gay stereotype, a man losing his mind over his body.

CrossFit is fast and efficient. By combining high interval cardio (sprints, rowing, and box jumps) and full-body muscle building exercises (calisthenics and Olympic weightlifting), patrons come out with stronger and leaner bodies. A typical CrossFit workout is twenty minutes and the clock and coach sweep you through it.

I go for my swift hour session a few times a week and then I leave. The work is done and I think about the rest of my life.

Mentally, the greatest stride I have noticed since beginning CrossFit is that instead of focusing on my physique and constantly comparing it to the other men of the box (CrossFit slang for gym), I’ve begun to set fitness goals. Previously, I used to think, If only I could have biceps like that one guy in the white tank. Now, it’s, I will work on my technique of overhead squats so I can complete a workout with 105lbs.

This goal — one I created with coaches and friends at the box — put a step in my journey, and an attainable one at that. By focusing on fitness goals instead of my body’s image, I’m becoming stronger and my physique will follow. I’m less aesthetically focused; I’m gaining strength and using the workout program to challenge me.

The best part of CrossFit has been its silly moments: playing dodgeball to warm up, the jokes between members while we share the mutual suck of the day’s workout, and talks in stretching circles post workout. To me, the program is a sports team for big-kid adults and this is why it’s compared to a cult. That, along with the crossfitters who’ve taken to Instagram to flaunt about their daily achievements with shirtless or sports-bra selfies, offering a caption of self approval and challenging others to “get on their level.”

CrossFit is not a perfect program. I still struggle with its commercialization (now in over 10,000 locations worldwide), its obstinate owner Greg Glassman who ruthlessly attacks any criticism of his training program, and the risk for injury. But I know it’s given me more time in my day and is making me a stronger and happier man. I tread with caution, but I know now that I’m no longer the dullard staring narcissistically into the mirror, worshipping my aesthetics.