Monthly Archives: January 2014
The reality of trying to combine travel and CrossFit was starting to hit home. Getting to the gym frequently was a piece of paleo-approved cake when I was swanning around Madrid for a week and cruising Alicante for over a month. But hitting the road with a friend in tow proved to be a whole different kettle of deep-fried fish. Spontaneous travel, stays of only one night in cities and the desire to actually see the places I was visiting required some reprioritisation on my part. Was mine a CrossFit journey? No. Mine was a personal journey, which combined both CrossFit and travel. I had to push CrossFit sessions aside (shocking, I know) and went six days without seeing the inside of a box. And then I started to go crazy. It was time to find me a box.
Reebok CrossFit BCN is a good example of how a box can be decked out with all the bells and whistles but, if the vital factor of good, focussed coaching is missing, the whole work out experience can be compromised.
Let’s start with appearances (because the first ones count, right?) and work our way down. CrossFit BCN, a big, light, clean box right in the center of Barcelona, was the first air-conditioned box I’d been to, and thank God for that – Spain’s late-July heat was a killer. Motivational phrases, CrossFit rules and the box’s name bombing made for awesome wall art, although more personal touches, including a post-WOD score board, were missing. There were couches, a reception area, showers and large changing rooms. In fact, this box had all the style and trimmings of a “normal” gym, and that made a nice change. So far, all good!
My initial welcome to the gym was hurried. I must have interrupted something at the reception desk. I was directed to the bathrooms and left to my own devices. “To my own devices”…no, I don’t mean that I wanted help in the bathroom, but more that I felt that I had been diverted there quickly, merely to “occupy” me. Read the rest of this entry
There wasn’t much hope of Entreno Cruzado being a decent CrossFit box. Not only was it in Spain – where people tend to choose beer, tapas and sunbathing over exercise – it’s also on the paradisical island of Mallorca. Mallorca might be Ibiza’s beautiful and more subdued neighbour, but the nightlife is still a huge attraction; sun-roasted, permanently-drunk 18-year-old English boys dominate the streets during summer; and locals tend to have an “island mentality”. The Entreno Cruzado box was small, had started out as an unaffiliated gym and, on top of all this, day-time temperatures were reaching 30 degrees, plus humidity. My expectations were low.
On the short bus ride to the box from Palma, Mallorca’s capital, I consoled myself that any work out would be better than none, and at least I’d be forced away from tapas for a while.
Forget about the deep-fried food, I was soon eating humble pie. Read the rest of this entry