CrossFit Athletic Group

A cue, as San Francisco CrossFit coach Diane Fu describes it, is a specific relationship between a coach and an athlete. For example, I would give the cue "chin tucked" to someone with a chicken-neck to reinforce a good head position whereas I would not say that to someone who's head is constantly slouched forward. Their cue might be "chin up."

In essence, a cue is a quick fix to get you do to do what I want you to do. There are audible cues "KNEES OUT MARIA," tactile cues (squatting in front of the tire to stop your knees from going forward), and a visual cue - where you watch something and try to replicate it (natural athletes are best at this).

I'd like to introduce you to our newest visual cue: Ricky Carey.

Ricky Carey is an object. Ricky Carey has no feelings and cannot think for himself. Instead, Ricky Carey is a sloth robot programed to do Unweighting with the best possible timing and technique. Observe.

It's such a wonder to behold; almost as elegant as the Paramore playing in the background. Look at how little effort he puts into the movement - or life in general. It's as if any ounce of energy exerted that doesn't directly contribute to moving his body from Pose 1 to Pose 2 is a sin. There is no sense of urgency. Complete lack of interest. And his facial expressions would not be distinguishable between a power clean, a power nap, and his morning power poo. Ricky Carey moves as if Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta is playing in his head. If he needed to move fast, he would have. But he didn't, so he didn't. In fact, he works very hard to be lazy.

Ricky Carey is the expert cheater. He uses the least possible amount of effort to accomplish a task. And this is the epitome of what Olympic lifting should be. When you are doing cleans, snatches, or push jerks, I want you to think about Ricky Carey (no Ronk intended) and mimic to the best of your ability.