October 16, 2014

IT'S A PURITAN NATION:

Why Are Americans So Fascinated With Extreme Fitness? (HEATHER HAVRILESKY, OCT. 14, 2014, NY Times Magazine)

CrossFitters represent just one wave of a fitness sea change, in which well-to-do Americans abandon easy, convenient forms of exercise in favor of workouts grueling enough to resemble a kind of physical atonement. For the most privileged among us, freedom seems to feel oppressive, and oppression feels like freedom. There's also a very American fixation on extremes at play: More is always better. If you're running just four miles a day and doing a few pull-ups, you're a wimp compared with the buff dude who's ready for an appearance on "American Ninja Warrior." It's hard not to feel awe when you watch a middle-aged woman in a Never Quit T-shirt clean-and-jerk huge weights. And it's hardly a stretch to go from lifting a 35-pound kettlebell to wondering why you can't run half a mile with it, especially when a CrossFit coach is right there, urging you to "crush it." Common wisdom seems to dictate that it's not enough to look good and feel good if you're not prepared to lift a Mini Cooper off an injured stranger.

The whole notion of pushing your physical limits -- popularized by early Nike ads, Navy SEAL mythos and Lance Armstrong's cult of personality -- has attained a religiosity that's as passionate as it is pervasive. The "extreme" version of anything is now widely assumed to be an improvement on the original rather than a perverse amplification of it. And as with most of sports culture, there is no gray area. You win or you lose. You leave it all on the floor or you shamefully skulk off the floor with extra gas in your tank.

But our new religion has more than a little in common with the religions that brought our ancestors to America in the first place. Like the idealists and extremists who founded this country, the modern zealots of exercise turn their backs on the indulgences of our culture, seeking solace in self-abnegation and suffering. "This is the route to a better life," they tell us, gesturing at their sledgehammers and their kettlebells, their military drills and their dramatic re-enactments of hard labor. And in these uncertain times, it doesn't sound so bad to be prepared for some coming disaster -- or even for an actual job doing hard labor, if our empire ever falls.

It makes sense that for those segments of humanity who aren't fighting for survival every day of their lives, the new definition of fulfillment is feeling as if you're about to die. Maybe that's the point. If we aren't lugging five gallons of water back from a well 10 miles away or slamming a hammer into a mountainside, something feels as if it's missing. Who wants to sit alone at a desk all day, then work out alone on a machine? Why can't we suffer and sweat together, as a group, in a way that feels meaningful? Why can't someone yell at us while we do it? For the privileged, maybe the most grueling path seems the most likely to lead to divinity.

Or you could leave the office and do work instead?

Posted by at October 16, 2014 6:04 PM
  

blog comments powered by Disqus
« FAILURE TO SEPARATE: | Main | DOOMED BY ITS OWN SUCCESS: »