” Perhaps this is a question that the folks at HQ are asking themselves, because some serious changes to qualifying for the CrossFit Games look to be just around the corner. At the post-Games press conference, Dave Castro had this to say on the topic:
“I’ve been happy with the results of the programming for the selection process that we’ve had over the previous few years, but we’re going to switch it up a little. It will be appropriate and it will bring the [fittest] people to the Games… It’s a global move.”
Interesting stuff—but there’s more. When specifically asked on whether Castro wanted to get more European athletes to the Games, here’s how he responded:
“I want to get the fittest in the men’s finals. I want to get the best of the best in the men’s final and there’s a way we can do that, that we’re not quite doing right now. It can be better and we’re going to show you. We have a better version of what we’re doing now and it’ll get the fittest in the world here.”
Wow. Obviously Castro’s words are open to interpretation, and this “better version” of qualifying for the Games could mean any number of things. But one (such as myself) would assume that this ‘global move’ may entail a qualifying process whereby the top 43 athletes in the world from all 17 Regionals will go to the Games. That is to say, if the top place finisher in one region can’t beat the scores of the athletes in the remaining 16, he or she won’t advance—despite winning their own Regional. Thus we could see 3 or more qualifiers from any one region advance to the Games, based on their scores relative to every other Regional competitor worldwide. This is just a theory—but to me, it makes sense.”
Hlad, hodiny ve fitness, život plný omezení. Zhubnu. Zbavím se vysokého tlaku. Získám fyzičku. Jenže – stane se něco jiného. Hladu se tělo brání ještě usilovnějším ukládáním tukových polštářů, nadměrná zátěž poškozuje klouby. Čím více jste unaveni, tím rychleji se ztrácí motivace. Uvolněte se, přehoďte výhybku v hlavě a zkuste to tentokrát úplně jinak. Kniha Marka Sissona není návodem na hubnutí, ani na čtenáře neklade nesplnitelné nároky. Pomáhá znovuobjevit zdraví zakódované do genů člověka dvěma miliony let evoluce.
When I was young I had no sense of myself. All I was, was a product of all the fear and humiliation I suffered. Fear of my parents. The humiliation of teachers calling me “garbage can” and telling me I’d be mowing lawns for a living. And the very real terror of my fellow students. I was threatened and beaten up for the color of my skin and my size. I was skinny and clumsy, and when others would tease me I didn’t run home crying, wondering why. I knew all too well. I was there to be antagonized. In sports I was laughed at. A spaz. I was pretty good at boxing but only because the rage that filled my every waking moment made me wild and unpredictable. I fought with some strange fury. The other boys thought I was crazy.
I hated myself all the time. As stupid at it seems now, I wanted to talk like them, dress like them, carry myself with the ease of knowing that I wasn’t going to get pounded in the hallway between classes. Years passed and I learned to keep it all inside. I only talked to a few boys in my grade. Other losers. Some of them are to this day the greatest people I have ever known. Hang out with a guy who has had his head flushed down a toilet a few times, treat him with respect, and you’ll find a faithful friend forever. But even with friends, school sucked. Teachers gave me hard time. I didn’t think much of them either.
Then came Mr. Pepperman, my advisor. He was a powerfully built Vietnam veteran, and he was scary. No one ever talked out of turn in his class. Once one kid did and Mr. P. lifted him off the ground and pinned him to the blackboard. Mr. P. could see that I was in bad shape, and one Friday in October he asked me if I had ever worked out with weights. I told him no. He told me that I was going to take some of the money that I had saved and buy a hundred-pound set of weights at Sears. As I left his office, I started to think of things I would say to him on Monday when he asked about the weights that I was not going to buy. Still, it made me feel special. My father never really got that close to caring. On Saturday I bought the weights, but I couldn’t even drag them to my mom’s car. An attendant laughed at me as he put them on a dolly.”