CrossFit Athletic Group

When I was 7 years old my dad showed me NBA Superstars on VHS and after watching the Isiah Thomas segment I decided I was going to dedicate my life to playing in the NBA.

In 7th grade I missed a half court shot at the buzzer in the championship game at Joe Dumars Fieldhouse; I cried like a little girl all night, but still repeated "I'm gonna make the NBA... I'm gonna make the NBA" in bed until I fell asleep.

In the 8th grade yearbook I put "NBA basketball player" as my future profession, despite not being able to help our St. Dennis team past the first game of playoffs that year.

In high school I worked the Rip Hamilton camp and when one of the guest speakers asked who was the best shooter in the gym, I immediately raised my hand (Rip Hamilton and Chris Paul were sitting right next to me, as were other future NBA players).

My senior year in high school I signed every yearbook with a neat signature and #11 next to my name, so everyone could have my autograph in case I made the NBA - you know, after an above-average high school career and bench-riding (yet still priceless, I might add) AAU experience.

As a 6'0 white boy who averaged probably 6 or 7 points per game in college, I stuck to my goal of one day playing in the NBA right up until Mrs. Pip found out 32301 Stephenson Hwy had warehouse space available (literally the day after my last game my senior year).

Thank you Mrs. Pip!

Was I delusional? Man... even 12 years later I still can't bring myself to say yes. Really, it doesn't matter either. The incredibly difficult and unlikely process of trying to be a professional basketball player gave me a level of resilience, courage, focus, and humility that has played a major factor in guiding the Champions Club to be what it is today. Plus I got way better at basketball than I ever would have if I had a different, easier goal. I'm way more proud of myself for sticking with such a tough goal than I am disappointed that I missed it.

...........

On Sunday we have a group of 9 current Champions Club peeps running in the Detroit Free Press Marathon or Half Marathon, plus Elizabeth and Jennifer Banet, Ricky, Josie, and Megan Kav. One one end of the argument, I feel like a hypocrite trying to give any thoughts on the race because the furthest I've ever run was 8 miles (Matt lied like a rug and told me we were "only" doing 4); on the other end I know how running can be way more secretive of a sport than basketball or football or baseball - nobody gets to watch the entire event and most of the training is done individually. This kind of isolation gives you guys a lot of opportunity to bail out.

I would bet that an overwhelming majority of the Champions Club could finish an entire marathon. Tomorrow. With no preparation. There would be walking, stopping, bathrooming, and everything in between, sure. But Mr. Coffee would finish it. Mrs. Hana's knees would hold up for it. And if Emma Lang could keep her attention then she'd find her way to the finish line too. Simply finishing a marathon or half marathon really isn't that big of a deal; that's why all the muggles on the sidelines watching are like, "Cool! I'm here for support! Great job! Now I can get back to watching a better sport when the Lions kick off in a few hours!" And the tough part about running as a sport is spectators really don't know the difference if you checked the box or if you did more.

But you do. And now, I'm inviting you all to let us in on that too.

Put your goal time, pace, outcome, or whatever on the whiteboard here at the gym. Make it something that you feel uneasy about. Unsure. Nervous. Self-conscious. Make it a goal that is just as likely not to be met as it is to be met, and stand behind it. And when the race is over I'll let the lesson in this challenge land however it may, but my bet is it either gives you more confidence to put yourself out there, or it helps you realize that ultimately nobody really cares that much when you "fail" because we're all too preoccupied with our own challenges.