CrossFit Is Not Dangerous, But It Will Hurt You
CrossFit Is Not Dangerous, But It Will Hurt You
Here's some truth for you: CrossFit is not dangerous, but you will get hurt if you do it. You'll tear calluses, your biceps, or maybe your labrum. You'll pop blisters or perhaps an Achilles. You'll slip and fall off a pull up rig or you'll slip a disc. Hell, you might even die. But isn't that an integral part of what we're looking for?
CrossFit grew dramatically in the early 2010s largely because of its bad boy image. It's "extreme" and "hardcore". In some ways it was the Dave's Insanity Hot Sauce of fitness; it dared you to try it and immediately set you apart when you did. Even today when we tell people we CrossFit they're quick to tell us all the reasons why it's the worst thing for us.
Commerical gyms sell sterile, "safe", and isolated exercise. You wait for an available machine, you read and execute the conveniently placed instructions, and you definitely don't make any noise or talk to anyone. When you're done with your 3 sets of 12 reps and 20 minutes cardio you buy some chemical concoction from the front desk before going home to eat pizza and sit on the couch knowing you've completed your civic duty of physical activity for the day.
The commercial gym model apparently comes with lots of safety (which is arguable considering the tens of thousands of emergency room visits linked to treadmills every year), but with very little in the way of effectiveness. CrossFit focuses on how effective it is at building better humans. Move better, eat better, be better. Married to that effectiveness is the feeling of being on the edge and from a marketing standpoint selling excitement through risk is incredibly effective.
Getting hurt while doing something doesn't automatically mean that activity is dangerous, and getting "hurt" as a CrossFitter is more a badge of honor than an indictment of CrossFit. Suffering from a heavy case of delayed onset muscle soreness (DOMS) gives you a reason to tell your coworkers why you're limping so hard ("No seriously, it's a mile run then 100 pull-ups, 200 push-ups, and 300 squats, and then another mile run"). This is the type of social currency CrossFit embodies: being a badass without actually having to prove it in a dangerous environment.
CrossFit does not include the actual presence of danger, but instead the experience of fight or flight, of pumping adrenaline. It doesn't put its participants in any more danger than other fitness activities (in fact, it's most likely significantly safer than other forms of exercise), but it carries and markets its hardcore nature very well. CrossFitters get their asses kicked every day, embracing the feeling of crawling out of the gym having given every ounce of themselves to their workout, and they proudly wear t-shirts with militaristic quotes ("The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday") showing off how badass they are. All this "danger" is present without the actual deaths that exist other "extreme" activities like skydiving or base jumping (think of how common it is to hear about high level skydivers and base jumpers to die while doing their thing, then try to think of the last high level CrossFitter who died while competing).
The faux danger leads to a specific attitude and expression of cool. CrossFitters strut their CrossFitness kinda how smokers strut smoking. Where smokers posture up and tell everyone around them they're "trying to quit", CrossFitters put on a show about being sore and eating Paleo. Much like the "cool" of smoking in the 90s (even Romeo smoked in the 90s), CrossFit has become the bleeding edge of cool meeting dangerous (even Wolverine CrossFits in the 21st century).
The mindset involved in CrossFit isn't unique, but it's now more widespread than it's ever been before. Action sports athletes, members of the military, and law enforcement can all tell you what it's like to push the edge of performance with real possibilities of danger lurking around the corner. CrossFit has managed to capture an incredible experience: the vicarious exposure to fight or flight. Much like CrossFit boxes are affiliates to CrossFit HQ, offering marginally individualized interpretations of a philosophical approach to fitness, CrossFit is an offshoot of primal experiences like hunting and fighting except without the possibility of getting kicked by a wooly mammoth or punched in the face.
In itself there's nothing really dangerous about high rep weightlifting, executing complex movements under fatigue, or handstand push ups. But CrossFit isn't just high rep snatches, tired muscle ups, or handstand push ups. It's living at the end of your capabilities, constantly toeing the edge of the cliff, and competing against yourself and others all of which is done in the context of fitness, health, and self improvement. CrossFit is not dangerous, but it is at least in part the excitement of and physiological reaction to danger conveniently packaged and sold.
Of course people do actually get hurt while CrossFitting, and you will to. Yes, shoulders dislocate and ACLs tear. Yes, some people get extreme cases of rhabdomyolysis and are hospitalized. In practice, these are exceedingly rare instances. The vast majority of us simply tear a callus, have some muscle or joint soreness, and occasionally underrecover to the point of fatigue, loss of sleep and appetite. In reality, most "injuries" that happen while CrossFitting are merely surrogates for more serious injuries; they hurt enough to remind someone they're skirting the danger zone while giving people the cool factor associated with sacrificing body and soul for fitness, and even providing a war story to tell their gym buddies over a NorCal margarita.
By packaging fitness as an experience one survives and endures rather than an activity one merely participates in, CrossFit has created a movement that lends itself very easily to chatter. Everyone wants to tell you how safe or dangerous CrossFit is, everyone wants you to know that CrossFit is either an abomination to traditional fitness or a savior sent to revolutionize the human race. CrossFitters by extension get to be part of this movement. They get the exposure, the status, and the attention, both positive and negative. They get to sacrifice for and endure their workouts and experience a modicum of danger. Best of all, it comes with all the sexiness and nearly none of the risk.
CrossFit grew dramatically in the early 2010s largely because of its bad boy image. It's "extreme" and "hardcore". In some ways it was the Dave's Insanity Hot Sauce of fitness; it dared you to try it and immediately set you apart when you did. Even today when we tell people we CrossFit they're quick to tell us all the reasons why it's the worst thing for us.
Commerical gyms sell sterile, "safe", and isolated exercise. You wait for an available machine, you read and execute the conveniently placed instructions, and you definitely don't make any noise or talk to anyone. When you're done with your 3 sets of 12 reps and 20 minutes cardio you buy some chemical concoction from the front desk before going home to eat pizza and sit on the couch knowing you've completed your civic duty of physical activity for the day.
The commercial gym model apparently comes with lots of safety (which is arguable considering the tens of thousands of emergency room visits linked to treadmills every year), but with very little in the way of effectiveness. CrossFit focuses on how effective it is at building better humans. Move better, eat better, be better. Married to that effectiveness is the feeling of being on the edge and from a marketing standpoint selling excitement through risk is incredibly effective.
Getting hurt while doing something doesn't automatically mean that activity is dangerous, and getting "hurt" as a CrossFitter is more a badge of honor than an indictment of CrossFit. Suffering from a heavy case of delayed onset muscle soreness (DOMS) gives you a reason to tell your coworkers why you're limping so hard ("No seriously, it's a mile run then 100 pull-ups, 200 push-ups, and 300 squats, and then another mile run"). This is the type of social currency CrossFit embodies: being a badass without actually having to prove it in a dangerous environment.
CrossFit does not include the actual presence of danger, but instead the experience of fight or flight, of pumping adrenaline. It doesn't put its participants in any more danger than other fitness activities (in fact, it's most likely significantly safer than other forms of exercise), but it carries and markets its hardcore nature very well. CrossFitters get their asses kicked every day, embracing the feeling of crawling out of the gym having given every ounce of themselves to their workout, and they proudly wear t-shirts with militaristic quotes ("The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday") showing off how badass they are. All this "danger" is present without the actual deaths that exist other "extreme" activities like skydiving or base jumping (think of how common it is to hear about high level skydivers and base jumpers to die while doing their thing, then try to think of the last high level CrossFitter who died while competing).
The faux danger leads to a specific attitude and expression of cool. CrossFitters strut their CrossFitness kinda how smokers strut smoking. Where smokers posture up and tell everyone around them they're "trying to quit", CrossFitters put on a show about being sore and eating Paleo. Much like the "cool" of smoking in the 90s (even Romeo smoked in the 90s), CrossFit has become the bleeding edge of cool meeting dangerous (even Wolverine CrossFits in the 21st century).
The mindset involved in CrossFit isn't unique, but it's now more widespread than it's ever been before. Action sports athletes, members of the military, and law enforcement can all tell you what it's like to push the edge of performance with real possibilities of danger lurking around the corner. CrossFit has managed to capture an incredible experience: the vicarious exposure to fight or flight. Much like CrossFit boxes are affiliates to CrossFit HQ, offering marginally individualized interpretations of a philosophical approach to fitness, CrossFit is an offshoot of primal experiences like hunting and fighting except without the possibility of getting kicked by a wooly mammoth or punched in the face.
In itself there's nothing really dangerous about high rep weightlifting, executing complex movements under fatigue, or handstand push ups. But CrossFit isn't just high rep snatches, tired muscle ups, or handstand push ups. It's living at the end of your capabilities, constantly toeing the edge of the cliff, and competing against yourself and others all of which is done in the context of fitness, health, and self improvement. CrossFit is not dangerous, but it is at least in part the excitement of and physiological reaction to danger conveniently packaged and sold.
Of course people do actually get hurt while CrossFitting, and you will to. Yes, shoulders dislocate and ACLs tear. Yes, some people get extreme cases of rhabdomyolysis and are hospitalized. In practice, these are exceedingly rare instances. The vast majority of us simply tear a callus, have some muscle or joint soreness, and occasionally underrecover to the point of fatigue, loss of sleep and appetite. In reality, most "injuries" that happen while CrossFitting are merely surrogates for more serious injuries; they hurt enough to remind someone they're skirting the danger zone while giving people the cool factor associated with sacrificing body and soul for fitness, and even providing a war story to tell their gym buddies over a NorCal margarita.
By packaging fitness as an experience one survives and endures rather than an activity one merely participates in, CrossFit has created a movement that lends itself very easily to chatter. Everyone wants to tell you how safe or dangerous CrossFit is, everyone wants you to know that CrossFit is either an abomination to traditional fitness or a savior sent to revolutionize the human race. CrossFitters by extension get to be part of this movement. They get the exposure, the status, and the attention, both positive and negative. They get to sacrifice for and endure their workouts and experience a modicum of danger. Best of all, it comes with all the sexiness and nearly none of the risk.