The Box

The Box

It is the end of the world. A deadly virus is spreading rampantly around the world causing everyone to turn into mindless, bloodthirsty zombies. Europe, Asia, and Africa have been overrun; North America is next. The citizens have little time; luckily, there is hope: a chance to train ones body and mind to help one survive the inevitable apocalypse. In Petaluma, there is one place ready to take a stand against any flesh-eating terror headed their way. A place so bold, that after the first visit, some never return; a place that is hardly ever heard of, or even seen; a place that looks like a warehouse, but is really a training ground for a feared coalition. Some of the members of the coalition identify their hideout as “The Box” due to its box-like form. The warehouse, is a gym; housing the fearless members of CrossFit Petaluma.

While driving down North McDowell Boulevard at the posted speed limit of forty miles per hour, it is rather easy to miss the small sign imprinted with the CrossFit Petaluma logo. The gym is located in what appears to be a lot of office buildings and unoccupied warehouses. The exterior of the gym is plain: it is painted a tasteless tan and has the typical warehouse look to it. If the doors to the gym were closed, the only way to distinguish the unit would be by the square panel just above the door hosting the same logo as the small sign on the driveway. Despite these average attributes, the CrossFit Petaluma gym is unlike any other gym in Petaluma. It is different compared to Club One, 24 Hour Fitness, or Petaluma Valley Athletic Club (not just because it will help you survive a zombie apocalypse). It does not have the standard treadmills or the classic weight machines, it is not a 40,000 square feet fitness center, and it does not have locker rooms or small cafés for post workout snacks. It is just a small gym—much like the size of a giant garage—filled with a crazy group of people who call themselves “crossfitters”.

The smell of rubber, chalk, and metal fill the nostrils of visitors and members as they enter the gym; immediately, they can tell that this is no ordinary gym. The interior of the gym is unique: it consists of several pull-up bars, sets of rings, barbells and dumbbells, weights, and two ropes that are suspended from the ceiling. Walking into the gym, visitors are introduced to the family atmosphere when they are greeted by the small family who call the gym their own. They see the small cluster of photos which are at their immediate left and through the pictures of bloodied hands, of profusely sweating athletes lying on the floor, and of athletes grimacing in pain as they attempt to complete the workout they realize the type of spirit this gym embodies. I recall walking into the gym for the first time where one of the coaches approached me and described to me the typical workouts. After watching my smile broaden wider than my face would allow it, he explained, “Think of CrossFit as training for a zombie apocalypse.”

When I look at my hands, I feel them burning as I remember the last pull-ups I did, and when I awake in the morning, I feel the soreness from the most recent Workout of the Day, and when I arrive for my workout everyday, I am always ready for a workout that was just as worse than the last, and when I leave, I am closer to crawling than I am to walking. As I struggle through the taxing workout, I think of my future; I constantly remind myself, “Don’t give up. Never give up. SEALs never give up.” All of the members think much like I do, we all do not accept failure or quitting. Much like Julius Caesar who came, who saw, who conquered; to the gym we come, we workout, we puke. The strenuous—nearly impossible—workouts the gym provides do not frighten us, they motivate us, they inspire us, they define us.

The community of the gym is a tight-knit family like a small tribe of fighters. Athletes of all ages—ranging from sixties to teens—attend treating each other with equal amounts of respect despite the possible age difference. The coaches know all of their athletes as well, they never cease to encourage or support their students. Former service members, parents, college students, high school students, retirees, people from all walks of life attend the gym and are welcomed by everyone. The gym is an orphanage sheltering athletes who have lost their love for the standard gym. In the words of Navy SEALs and Charles O. Finley: we are common people, with uncommon desires to succeed; we do common things in uncommon ways; we believe that sweat plus sacrifice equals success; no one will ever see us quit because we simply won’t.

The gym is a symbol of uniqueness. The one of a kind painting on the right side of the gym exemplifies what the gym is all about. The mural is of the words CrossFit which have smashed through the wall as if they were the incredible Hulk. The words are painted as if they were stone and the colors of blue and orange suggest vitality and spirituality. It is audacious, unyielding, invigorating—it corresponds to all of the characteristics the gym epitomizes. The feelings the athletes experience after an exhausting workout—blistered hands and sweaty bodies, sore feet and aching muscles, gasping for breath and dying of thirst—are possibly the only things about the gym that are predictable. Athletes walk into the gym unaware of the workout they will complete like being set up on a blind date.

While some struggle to go to the gym, I struggle to stay away from my gym. While some see a place of torture and suffering, I see a place of solace and tranquility. While some see a warehouse for exercising, I see a sanctuary for hard-workers. While some see a group of athletes, I see a family. While some see a gym, I see a home.

-Ryan S.

Zero Period