LOST

Last night I couldn't sleep. I'm not talking about tossing and turning for a few minutes...I'm talking about hours of staring at my ceiling. And rather than do anything productive, I usually just lay there and think of random shit.  It was right around 2am when I blew my own mind with this epiphany: CrossFit is like the television series "Lost."

CrossFit is the island. You don't know if you're ever going to get off; you've had too much of the Kool-aid.

My affiliate is Oceanic flight 815, bringing all sorts of different people together.

21-15-9? Kind of like the lost lottery numbers in that they mean nothing to anyone else outside of the island.

My affiliate owner is the smoke monster, but instead of smoke he goes around farting on the island's inhabitants. And, if you piss him off, crazy shit will happen and you will fear for your life.

My buddy Roger is Hugo.

My buddy Slow Matt is Jack.

My buddy Gil is Walt (or the other black guy).

Clearly, I'm Sawyer. Or not. It doesn't really matter because the island is not real and we're all dead anyway.
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So if you can't tell from the above, I'm sort of all out of Kool-Aid. I've lost that loving feeling, if you will. I didn't wake up one morning all of the sudden hating CrossFit. It was a number of events, situations, people that I won't get into here, but it all kind of culminated with this lift missed lift.

"The house that we built..." is no longer a home, but an island full of strangers.

I lost my drive and focus a long time ago. This blog is hopefully my journey to finding it again.