Measuring Dick Sizes. (Part 1)

Reflections on the Crossfit Open and the nature of comparison

One of my favorite memories from the 2018 Crossfit Open* starts with a friendly bet. On a completely public whiteboard at Crossfit Norwalk, I wrote down who I thought would be the top ten performers in the gym for the guys' side of the competition. I ranked them from first to last. People would walk into the gym, check out the whiteboard, and a lot of them would just stand there and stare at it. I had just let everyone - a gym full of ultra competitive people - know what I actually thought about their fitness. I had stirred the pot. Feathers were ruffled. People got huffy. Some people who weren’t up there thought I was full of shit. (I mean jeez guys, I put myself at #10.) Needless to say, the dick measuring contest was on. 

*For those of you that don’t know what the Crossfit open is, all you need to know is that it is an online competition that happens once a year where 10s of thousands of people all around the world participate in fitness workouts and post their scores in on an online leaderboard.

Two things happened. First, all the guys competing in the gym joined a massive group chat for the express purpose of creating their own top ten list and shit-talking each other. The guy who had the most accurate top ten list by the end of the open won a chunk of money - sort of a March Madness bracket style betting process. The second thing that happened was a little friendly vendetta between me and let's call him “Perfect Beard.” I’m not exactly sure how the bet started, but by the time the open began, Perfect Beard and I both had bet $50 on ourselves saying we would beat the other guy. Everybody heard about this and proceeded to make their own side bets on who would win the little competition we had going on. 

Talk about a world of comparison. Now everybody knew what everybody else thought of their fitness peepee. “Oh really Scott? You don’t think I’ll even crack the top ten?” “Oh wow. Travis doesn’t think I can beat Johnny, well fuck you Travis, now I have to beat Johnny.” Everybody had thoughts like this. Everyone suddenly had their own little ax to grind against somebody else. These thoughts and little anxieties went double time for me and Perfect Beard. We both had a healthy respect for each other's level of fitness, but we both felt we could beat each other. Now we knew where each person in the gym sided in that argument.

Needless to say, excitement for the first workout was at an all time high. The beginning of the Open is always a high point of excitement for any Crossfit gym, but this year the open had a meaner edge to it. “You’re only competing against yourself,” “Just do your best!” “If you had fun you won!” Blah blah fucking blah. All that positive community building shit was out the window that year. That particular Crossfit open everybody was working out with one person in the corner of their eye - hoping that that person was drowning in a pool of their own lactic acid. The top ten lists had allowed us to uncage the monkey inside us - that crazy fucking chimpanzee inside you that screams to take the gold and murder the rest. It was like everyone was lining up outside Noah’s Ark realizing they were the third monkey in line, and the first Crossfit open workout signaled the beginning of the rain. 

Everybody went hard. The betting had magnified the usual Crossfit Open jitters to preposterous magnitudes. The anxiety was particularly bad for the first workout. I didn’t get a damn thing done at work that day. What if I went out of the gate too hot? What if my grip failed? Should I break it up into small sets or big sets? Why is my heart beating out of my chest? I haven’t even warmed up yet. Anxiety is par for the course when competing, but this was the next level of hype and stress. All I could do was use it for fuel. 

And so I did.

Every workout received 100 percent of my effort. Five weeks turned into a robotic act of sleeping 8 hours, eating enough nutritious food, and avoiding booze like the plague. I obsessed over warmups and gameplans. And when it was finally time to go, it was like unsealing a pressure valve. 3, 2, 1, GO. 

It was one of my best open performances of all time.

Now I’m not going to mention the results of the bet with Perfect Beard because it doesn’t really pertain to the point of this - HAH! Who am I kidding? I won every single workout. During the third workout I finished a couple of seconds ahead of him and gave him the double middle finger as I collapsed to the ground from the pain in my quads. And once I had won all five workouts my buddy took a video of me taking a broom and sweeping the floor, which we promptly sent to him. The guys who placed their bets on me gave the requisite high fives and back slaps. Victory was sweet.

As you can imagine there is no fucking way I would have gone as hard without Perfect Beard hanging out in the corner of my eye. A good rivalry can bring out the best and the worst in both parties and it was probably a little bit of both for me. However, I’m always thankful we made that bet, because to this day, whatever workout is happening at Crossfit Norwalk, I always keep him in the corner of my eye. And whenever he beats me, which happens more than I like to admit, there’s a little twinge of anger. A little bit more fuel gets thrown onto the fire, and I eat a bit more protein and I dial in the sleep a bit more. He is one of my main measuring sticks for keeping me honest in the world of fitness. I’m grateful for that because not only does Perfect Beard have a goddamn perfect beard, he’s one fit mothafucka.

As for the winner of the top ten leaderboard bracket, I honestly have no idea who won it. I only remember it because I was so goddamn close to landing a pot of money. The main problem with my bracket was where I had placed myself. No one had placed me very high including myself, and my performance fucked up a lot of projected leaderboards. My own bracket was pretty damn accurate except that my performance exceeded my own expectations so much that it cost me a solid chunk of cash…and made me wonder wether I should have just “accidentally” shat the bed on the last workout.

This is a story of comparison done right. It was the dick measuring contest that lead to everyone growing bigger dicks. Even had I lost every single workout I firmly believe it would have been the positive motivating experience that it was. Part 2 will cover some of this year’s Crossfit Open story, and include some actionable advice about comparison and anxiety in general. Toodles for now.