Tim Curdt believes CrossFit workouts helped him deal with one of the hardest parts of his life: saying goodbye to his father.
In a Q&A session at FilFest 2010, CrossFit founder Greg Glassman mildly scolded a delegate who said he had found little success persuading people to do CrossFit by reciting the stated goals of “increasing one’s work capacity across broad time and modal domains” or making one more efficient at “moving large loads long distances quickly.”
“No, no you’re (screwing) it up,” Glassman interrupted in a video titled “Real Science.”
Even though the formal definition certainly was accurate, a simple claim that CrossFit will make you faster and stronger and help you do more with your life would be much more effective. After all, the real persuasive power of CrossFit is in the doing. Get future clients into your box, put them through a WOD or two and let them start experiencing the boldness and benefits of these claims for themselves with each gasping breath.
In the past year of my CrossFit life, I’ve been reflecting on another compelling truth of the CrossFit experience that seems to me just as powerful as any ever mentioned on the website, but it resists the pithy wisdom of a T-shirt and cannot be supported with the type of quantifiable evidence that in all other contexts CrossFit so rightly demands.
Why do CrossFit?
It can teach you how to help your father die.