What Three Women in the Back Corner of a CrossFit Gym Reminded Me About Kindness

 

This week, I went to the gym.

That sentence makes me sound significantly more athletic than the rest of this blog is going to demonstrate.

I attend an amazing CrossFit gym in Adelaide called Soul. The trainers are fantastic, the community is incredible, and there is a group of women there who probably do more for me each week than they realise.

But before we go any further, let's establish something important.

I am shit at CrossFit.

There is absolutely no inspirational transformation story coming where I reveal that underneath it all I'm secretly an elite athlete.

I'm slow.

I don't lift heavy.

A large percentage of the time I have absolutely no idea what is going on.

I can't keep count of my reps.

My concentration span is considerably shorter than a 10-minute AMRAP.

And, to be completely transparent, it took me about six months to work out what AMRAP even meant.

Apparently it means “as many rounds/reps as possible.”

Who knew?

Probably everybody except me.

Yet five mornings a week, at 5:30am, I turn up.

I'm usually about 90% asleep, sore—which these days may have less to do with CrossFit and more to do with simply being old—and generally complaining about whatever fresh hell the trainers have written on the board.

And then I head to the back corner.

The Back Corner

There's a group of us women who tend to find ourselves there.

We're not necessarily the strongest people in the gym.

We're not the fastest.

We're probably not going to be appearing at the CrossFit Games anytime soon.

Actually, speaking for myself, there is absolutely no danger of that happening.

But there is something in that back corner that I think is far more important.

We are kind to each other.

And I don't mean superficially polite.

I mean genuinely, consistently kind.

We notice when someone isn't themselves.

We ask if they're okay.

We celebrate when someone achieves something they couldn't do before—even if the person beside them is lifting twice as much.

We encourage each other through the horrible bits.

We laugh.

A lot.

We complain.

Also a lot.

We occasionally have no idea what we're doing together.

And when one of us is struggling, the others don't race ahead and forget about her.

We stay.

We encourage.

We push.

We make sure everyone gets through.

There is no competition about whose life is harder.

Nobody needs to be the most important person in the corner.

Nobody's success diminishes somebody else's.

There is simply this quiet understanding:

We're doing this together.

On Tuesday morning this week, there were three of us.

It was another ridiculous workout.

Or WOD.

I think.

I'm still not entirely confident about the terminology.

We had a fantastic trainer who possesses more patience than any human being reasonably should at 5:30 in the morning.

At different points, each of us was struggling.

And we did what we always do.

We pushed each other.

One more.

Keep going.

You've got this.

Nearly there.

We laughed at ourselves.

We probably complained about the workout.

We definitely questioned some of our life choices.

But we got through it.

Together.

I finished something I genuinely didn't think I would finish.

And somewhere between trying to breathe and wondering whether lying permanently on the gym floor was socially acceptable, I started thinking.

Imagine if women treated each other like this all the time.

Actually, forget just women.

Imagine if the world operated like the back corner of our gym.

What If Someone Else's Success Wasn't Our Failure?

We live in a world that constantly encourages comparison.

Who has the better career?

Who earns more?

Whose children are doing better?

Who has the nicer house?

Who looks younger?

Who is thinner?

Who has the bigger business?

Who has more followers?

Who got the opportunity you wanted?

Social media has turned comparison into something we can do 24 hours a day.

And somewhere along the way, we've started behaving as though somebody else's success somehow takes something away from us.

But it doesn't.

When one of the women beside me lifts something heavier than she did last week, I don't think:

"How dare she? That really undermines my achievement."

I cheer for her.

When someone finishes before me, she doesn't stand there looking smugly at the clock.

She turns around and encourages me.

Why can't we do more of that outside the gym?

Imagine If We Stopped Pulling Each Other Down

Women can be incredibly supportive of other women.

We can also be brutal.

We judge parenting.

Appearance.

Careers.

Relationships.

Choices.

Bodies.

Success.

Failure.

Sometimes we criticise people we barely know.

Sometimes we do it under the guise of concern.

Sometimes we do it because another person's success makes us question our own.

But what if we caught ourselves?

What if, instead of thinking:

"Who does she think she is?"

We thought:

"Good on her."

What if we celebrated the woman who got the promotion?

Supported the mum who was struggling?

Recommended another woman's business?

Sent the message saying, “I saw what you achieved. That's fantastic.”

Checked on the friend who had gone quiet?

Told another woman she was doing a good job—and actually meant it?

What would happen?

Nobody Gets Through Life Without Struggling

This is where my CrossFit ability actually becomes quite a good metaphor for life.

Some people are naturally stronger in certain areas.

Some move faster.

Some need modifications.

Some have injuries nobody else can see.

Some need to stop and catch their breath.

Some days you can do something easily.

The next day, the exact same thing feels impossible.

And sometimes you have absolutely no idea what you're doing and are desperately looking around hoping someone else does.

Sound familiar?

That's life.

We don't all start in the same place.

We don't carry the same weight.

We don't have the same resources.

We haven't experienced the same trauma.

We don't have identical families, bodies, brains, opportunities or support networks.

So perhaps we could stop expecting everybody to move through life at the same pace.

Kindness Doesn't Make People Weak

In my professional life, I work with children, families, organisations and people experiencing some extraordinarily difficult circumstances.

I see what happens when people feel judged.

I also see what happens when someone finally feels supported.

People don't generally become stronger because somebody tells them how hopeless they are.

Children don't develop resilience through humiliation.

Parents don't become more capable because we constantly remind them of their mistakes.

Employees don't thrive because their workplace makes them frightened of failure.

People grow when they're challenged and supported.

My trainers don't let me sit in the corner drinking coffee while everyone else exercises simply because they're kind.

Believe me, I've tried.

They still expect me to do the work.

They challenge me.

They correct me.

They push me.

But they do it while creating an environment where it's safe to be terrible at something and keep trying anyway.

There's an important lesson in that.

Kindness and accountability aren't opposites.

You can challenge someone without humiliating them.

You can disagree without destroying them.

You can expect better while still recognising effort.

You can push someone forward without pushing them down.

Find Your Back Corner

Everyone needs a back corner.

A place where you don't have to be the strongest person in the room.

People who notice when you're struggling.

People who laugh with you.

People who tell you to keep going when you're convinced you've got nothing left.

People who celebrate your victories without comparing them to their own.

And people who will still be standing there when you eventually finish.

If you have people like that in your life, value them.

Tell them.

And then ask yourself something else:

Am I that person for somebody else?

Because that's the bigger challenge.

So Here's My Challenge

For the next week, let's behave a little more like three tired women in the back corner of an Adelaide CrossFit gym at 5:30 in the morning.

When someone is struggling, encourage them.

When someone succeeds, celebrate them.

When someone falls behind, don't automatically leave them there.

When another woman achieves something incredible, don't look for a reason to diminish it.

When someone makes a mistake, remember you've made plenty yourself.

Check on people.

Laugh together.

Make room.

Be generous with encouragement.

And when somebody genuinely doesn't think they can keep going, stand beside them and remind them that they can.

Imagine if we did that at work.

Imagine if we did it in families.

Imagine if we did it in schools.

Imagine if women consistently did it for other women.

Imagine if our leaders did it.

Imagine if our communities did it.

Imagine if the world did it.

I'm still going to be shit at CrossFit tomorrow morning.

I'll probably still lose count of my reps.

I'll still complain.

I'll almost certainly have to ask what we're doing at least twice.

And at 5:30am, I'll once again wander towards that back corner, half asleep.

But I'll turn up.

Because I've realised that what keeps bringing me back isn't really CrossFit.

It's the people beside me.

And perhaps that's something worth remembering well beyond the gym.

Sometimes we don't need somebody to carry the weight for us.

We just need somebody beside us while we lift it.

— Niki Gent
Family and Child Consultants