CrossFit Athletic Group

Get your time turners from Dumbledore kids, and go back to one year ago.

Champions Club had just finished a successful summer in the field house. Back then, when dinosaurs roamed the earth, there was no such thing as hollow body. We walked around happily broken every day. This was probably why we were unable to continue there, so we transferred back into the weight room in the giant cross building that is my alma matter.  

Here we are, back in the weight room with our very own, beautiful pull-up bar Ryan Richard.

Unfortunately (at the time), it would not last. Rumblings were arising in the school. Bad rumblings like those that follow after a Little Caeser's pizza with extra cheese or perhaps two chalupas from Taco Bell. One night after a moms session in the weight room, Nicole and I were summoned to a meeting with the original Brian Hassler and our peerless leader, Chris Sinagoga. He told us that our chances for continuing on in the school were virtually negative. The reason for this trouble? We're not sure. Maybe it was Chris preying upon high school girls as he is prone to do (crap, there goes my prom date). Maybe it was football players needing the weight room to be vacant. Maybe we'll never know. Since our school is Catholic and therefore gracious, there was an option to continue. We were allowed to carry on if we kicked out the moms and all our Lamphere kids. Which, as I said, virtually negative. Just kidding, completely negative. When Chris broke the news, Nicole and I sobbed into our McDonald's kids meals that my mother had so graciously provided. The fries muffled our anguished weeping. Interestingly enough, it rained that night so our miserable scene was set.

Soon the rest of the kids knew too. Anyone at the school could tell who was a CrossFitter. It might have been the angry-set brow, the random insults pointed towards the school, or I guess it could have been the obvious, when we all wore our Champions Club shirts on a jeans day. Yeah, it was one of those showing your solidarity and shit type things. At the time it was showing solidarity in bewilderment. We had no clue what we were going to do. 

So Chris called a meeting. Every person who was connected to our organization (and even some who weren't) showed up. Sixty some people trying to figure out what in Fran's name was going down.

Some thoughts running through our heads:

"Are we going to have to workout OUTSIDE?"

"Is Chris even gonna stick with us? Maybe he's gonna go play basketball in some old Soviet country."

"What do these fat ignorant football players even do? I have never seen them in the weight room."

We decided to relocate the moms and Lampherians to Jarrod's for the time being. It was a magical 8 PM session for those of you lucky enough to experience it. 

After the meeting, Chris met with administration during the school day to see what was going on. I will always remember the fateful text message I recieved during my fourth hour, "No go." That was it, two words that ended our future at Bishop Foley. I immediatley flung my back pack to the chair  and sat and stewed. Sorry for that by the way Mrs. Masen... Abigail Lama, Champion Club OG, looked at me and I shook my head, unable to speak (of course). She responded with tears.  I don't think I can stress to you how integral this was to all of our lives. Every day, you get changed, go hang out in the weight room. Your friends are there and you can scope out the workout. You sit there until your practice and then generally you went back after practice was over! This was our safe place, our home away from home. And it was being swept away in an instant without a chance for us to click our ruby red slippers. I can say with 100% confidence that none of us had 100% confidence in Champions Club.

Chris just interjected with, "I did!". We didn't know a year ago what was going to happen shortly. Because in fact, there was two people who had confidence in us. Christopher himself (so I'm pretty sure that doesn't even count as a whole one), and Mrs. Pip. Turns out while the rest of us are all having a funeral for something not dead, Mrs. Pip and Mrs. Carey would take lunch breaks together to look for a new building. Mrs. Pip happened to stumble upon this spot, ironically, right behind the place that kicked us out. The kids wouldn't have to get rides to a new place, we would stay by our demographic, and it would enable us to be a hemorrhoid to the school that had just scorned us. That, ladies and genetlemen, would be perfection. 

Now, this isn't meant to be a hate post by any means. As a barely ammature writer, I'm required by my conscience to record exactly what we felt back then. Keep in mind this is year-old, bare emotion, and I'm pretty sure it's past its expiration date. Anyways, it doesn't even matter because all most of my muderous feelings were eradicated when I walked around the corner and stepped into this place. You see a lot of cars? We couldn't cause there was all that potential in the way...

My first sight of the pearly gates. Turns out it was a good thing we didn't have two bumper plates to rub together, because we had to move all 17 pieces of equipment from Jarrod's to here. 

So a year ago today, a transition and weeding awaited us. And after all of our hard work that afteroon, we were rewarded with...

A building that was crap. But still. It was ours. Our very own crap. That summer would be filled with sweat, dust from construction, and dodging city inspections... [insert nostalgia here] A year ago, I would have told you our story was tragedy. But summer 2012 began our happily ever after, which is still occuring today.

I hope this extremely long narrative was enlightening, or at least got you out of an awkward situation while you pretended to read it. For all of those who were there, you know how hard it is to communicate Champions Club circa June 2012 (but if you want to try, comments would be reaalllyyy welcome). For all of you who weren’t around then, maybe now you can see why we get excited over “little” things, like new ropes or a sign. Don't take what we have for granted. Don't take it for granted that you have a pull-up bar. Don't take it for granted we can listen to music that has the word ass in it and isn’t Christian rock. Don't take it for granted that we have the best young coaching staff our training program has to offer. Most of all, don't take it for granted you have the chance to interact with these people. This is where we all came from, approximately 1,260 sessions ago. Makes you wonder where we'll be 1,260 from now.