October 1997. Jerry Dodgen, a rock climbing guide from
The next year he was even more impressive, nearly flying up and down the rock, setting toplines with incredible energy. I'd never seen anything like it. The difference, he said, was this new book someone had given him, The Zone. He lost thirteen pounds. Being plenty lean and fit all his life, it was thirteen pounds he never knew he needed to lose. Plus he had gained energy he never knew was possible.
I could see it in him, burning bright. A remarkable fitness high. We flew home the next day. I bought the book in the airport. I wanted that high.
And the Zone delivered.
June 2012. It feels like home. Just a couple of back to back spaces in a storage facility, opened up to the outdoors. Rows of weights. Sturdy frames. Big rubber bands. Coaching timers on long cords hanging from nails in the wall. Regular looking folks, just getting it done. No frills, no nonsense, no fancy clothes.
Just for a second, a wave of nostalgia gives me a squeeze. It's been a long, long time since I first paired the Zone with the diverse (and brutal) home workouts in Mr. Keo's garage. What a high. A Jerry Dodgen sort of high. I thought I'd never see the like again. But I see it here. The very same high, in these regular folks, just getting it done.
Last Tuesday Northstar invited me to see the gym she attends, CrossFit 26.2 in Rockledge. It's like being invited into a secret clubhouse. Who wouldn’t jump at the chance? There’s even a secret language. It's total gobbelty gook to me, but Northstar reads the workout marked up on the whiteboard with ease. I wouldn't be surprised to see a secret handshake.
I am not dressed for it, but I wish I were there to work out. So much so, that I risk my sweat-switch being turned on, and flip flop along behind Northstar when she heads out to the street for 400 yard runs between bouts of overhead squats. Neighborhood kids, old hands at this game, full of chatty advice, trot along with me. I'm glad I arrived early.
When Northstar asked, "Do you want to do the Zone with me for thirty days?", it couldn’t have come at a better time. I was tired of going it alone, and tired of my own cavalier half ass nutritional ways, especially since I know better. But somehow I had missed the fact that it was an official CrossFit challenge. Choose Zone or Paleo, stick to it for thirty days, and see what happens to your fitness.
To my surprise, I am not only welcome to sit in on the nutrition discussion, but Allie, the trainer conducting the challenge, welcomes me into the group. He checks to be sure that I have signed onto his pledge list along with the other gym members.
The Zone is an old friend. But I am curious about Paleo. I browse through the literature Allie hands out. My first thought is, Uh-oh, what are these people into?
Paleo has the look of a detox. Thirty days, and then what? But I agree completely with the basic premise. No manufactured, fake foods. If you can’t catch it, or pick it, it’s probably not good for you to eat.
The drawback is, Paleo is super strict. Which, in my experience, reduces the chances of success for the average rule-allergic adult to about zero.
I am very glad I have read The Zone, and lived loosely in it ever since that 2nd climbing trip in 1998.
I don’t know about anyone else, but when it comes to dieting, it's the Pirate’s Code for me. No rules, more what you'd call guidelines, really.
So, thirty days in the much-more-versatile Zone, it is.
But this is a challenge. An official challenge. In what happens to be a month pretty much devoid of other preoccupations. Maybe it should be done right.
Probably wouldn't hurt to follow a few rules.
Oh hell. Find the food scale. I can do anything for thirty days.
*Just in case you have thirteen pounds you didn't even know you needed to lose, here's the CrossFit link for getting started in The Zone:
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