I have a whole list of things I need to write about. You people need an update on my house. We’ve got new Pterodactyl developments. Hot Firefighter Husband found a romantic streak. I have a secret I’ve been keeping from you, which is not a secret if you’ve seen me in person lately. It’s been weeks since the Savvy Sister solved any of your problems. And the Tyrant completed an illustrated short story collection.

But a giant PacMan hovers over my days and keeps gobbling up the hours, and each day it seems like I’ve just had my first cup of coffee before it’s time to drink a little gin, choke down three giant Omega-3 fish oil capsules and go to bed. Busy-ness becomes a habit, you know, just like Not Writing becomes a habit. I hate Not Writing. When I’m Not Writing, any stories about reading or writing cause me nausea and heart palpitations. Literally! I push writing out of my brain like it’s a poisonous contagion – because if I can’t do it, it pains me to think about it? But sometimes I think about it accidentally. For example, I’ll see a homeless guy begging for money and I think HOLY JOHN STEINBECK! I NEED TO GO TALK TO THAT GUY AND TURN HIM INTO A SHORT STORY! Or the other day, I ordered my usual soy latte from Starbucks and the barista looked just like I envisioned the guy from my Fiction Friday story about a woman having an affair with her coffee guy and I thought, I should really revisit that concept. The story, not the affair. There was no affair. What affair?

But mostly I obsess about CrossFit because it’s all I can do when I’m driving to Target or folding laundry or holding the Tyrant’s door closed so she won’t whack me with Teddy. Which, by the way, I can do because I’m STRONG LIKE BULL thanks to CrossFit. I daydream: How much will I be able to overhead squat today? Will the calluses on my hand rip? Will CrossFit Andy hand me a note that reads Get the fuck out of my life? KIDDING! Okay, I’m not kidding. But he only did that once, and he was joking. Probably.

CrossFit Andy hates when I write about him, but he only likes me a tiny bit anyway, so whatever. But when you insert yourself into my vortex, you become a tiny colored flag attached to the swirling fan blades of my life, and that little flash of color tints everything. And when you spend hours each week tweaking my snatches and jerks, you’re in my vortex. Damn, I am killing the double entendres today.

Anyway, while I’m obsessing about CrossFit, CrossFit Andy has been wringing his very strong hands about the CrossFit haters. Recently it has become very trendy to heap criticism on the CrossFit movement for being an extreme, dangerous form of fitness. Kind of like skateboarding. And Zumba! For real! According to a recent article in Consumer Reports magazine, orthopedic surgeons are seeing a big upswing in the number of Zumba-related hip, knee, and ankle injuries. Also, high school sports accounted for two million injuries last year, including 30,000 hospitalizations. Don’t even get me started on running. One time I broke my foot jogging in place.

But let’s focus on CrossFit, because haters love to hate on CrossFit. Why people want to challenge a genre of extremely strong, confident people who favor tattoos and kettlebell swings escapes logic, but let’s go with it. Yes, it’s a hardcore form of fitness that tends to morph into a lifestyle for its believers. I don’t use the term believers lightly – if you find a good gym, it’s cultish. Life-altering. Workouts are so hard that you have to eat right, you must get enough sleep, you ache to drink enough water. You think a little too much about the next day’s WOD (workout of the day) and barbells and burpees and a lot less about how much you weigh. And critics think that’s bad because…….there are some crappy CrossFit trainers out there.

There are also some crappy chefs out there. So I don’t eat at their restaurants. Get it? Here’s what I think about people who don’t like CrossFit: they shouldn’t do CrossFit. Think it’s dangerous? Don’t do it. Too scary? Don’t do it. But for the love of Muhammed Ali, shut up about it. It’s a fitness option. And at a time when the majority of Americans are literally dying of obesity-related ailments, we should be encouraging people to exercise, not criticizing how they do it.

And why are haters focused on the lame-o CrossFit trainers? What about the TOTES AWESOME gyms like mine, with trainers who study their porn star asses off to write responsible WODS that help peeps grow stronger and braver and more confident – not just muscle-strong, but life-strong?

Today I told CrossFit Andy I planned to do the workout slow and easy because I felt a little weak and punky. He slapped me on the ass and said, “YO, BITCH. YOU’LL DO IT HARD AND FAST.” NO NO NO NO! He didn’t say that! Not even the ass-slapping part! He told me to do a beginner level workout, and use the day to recover – which is exactly what a good trainer should say when a gym rat isn’t feeling ready to conquer the world. As a result, I retained some mental mojo and now have the energy to write this blog. In fact, now that I think about it, writing and CrossFit are similar that way. Both provide me with a way of ordering my life, and both give me the strength to face obstacles as diverse as lifting the baby girl into her bunk bed and explaining to my son that I love him even though I won’t buy him 400 boxes of Lemonheads. And just like people ask me why I do CrossFit, people ask me why I still write. The answer’s the same: Because I can, motherfuckers. But sometimes I just say the motherfuckers part in my head.

Next up: The Secret.