Farm Work: CrossFit Style

About two months ago when I started this blog and pursuit of elite fitness, I never expected the outpouring of support I received. Granted, I am a broad who regularly asks for help. But, as I started this trek to elite fitness, my gestation period has been replete with abundant and unconditional support. Each person shall receive their own personal ode a la America Peals.

Today, I shall recap my workout on a farm in Easton, MA. Now, if you don’t already know, I grew up in Wellesley. Heavy labor was not taught at Wellesley High, nor at my undergrad or grad school. In fact, just last night, my father, former Boston Firefighter, came downstairs to my room, holding an empty can of tuna fish. He stated: “Now, I know they didn’t teach you this at Harvard but you need to rinse the can with hot, soapy water or the whole damn house will stink.” So while I have some gifts, my common sense is at times limited and my understanding of manual labor minuscule.

This is a balls to the wall year for me to break out of my shell and not fall prey to Thoreau’s,” The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation.“

In that spirit, I spent a day with Elaine Pollito on her Dr. Doolittle farm in Easton.

Elaine kindly accepted my plea for help and an old school beat down. I need to do more in terms of physical activity not because I want to lose weight. I want to increase activity because I want to feel alive. It wasn’t so long ago, that I was in a corporate media giant punching in 14 hours days, wearing terrible pin stripe suits and loathing myself. Money did not afford me the simple pleasures of seeing trees, walking, running, playing and fucking living a life that made me goddamn smile.

So:

Upon arrival at Elaine’s, see pulls up behind me in her driveway in a truck from the Fast and the Furious with more hay than I have ever seen. 16 bales. Please note glamor shot above as I pose seductively in my Russel Grey sweatpants, an old pair of Armani bifocals. The workout entailed me unloading the bales, then hauling them to Chopper’s shed.

Now, since my background is not in the 1300s Icelandic agrarian techniques, I had to do what ever it took to haul those heavy, prickly mofo’s off the truck. I believe the bales were between 45 and 65lbs. If you have never moved hay before well…don’t start now. Its bloody hard! You have to find these dental floss sized ropes holding bale together and use a grip that slices your fingers. And, that’s before you even start walking. As you find your grip, you do an air-squat to pick up the horses food and then walk tall and proud, like a gladiator, into the ring of the beast and stack bales properly.

By the end of this task, I was sweating like a whore in church.

Now, to liven up this tale, I must describe the venue. And, this may sound like an outtake from a Luis Bunuel/Salvatore Dali collaboration. Elaine has a horse named Chopper. She has a preying mantis that sits on her hands like a falcon. She has a cat, a gaggle of dogs and drumroll please…a goose. A goose named Lorenza.

A little more about Lorenza. Lorenza used to be Lorenzo. However, when Lorenzo started laying eggs, she became Lorenza. Lorenza is simple creature (and don’t dare call her a duck) with simple needs. She likes to quack, preen and eat corn on the cob. Perhaps most exceptional is that Lorenza is a synchronized swimmer. She has a little blue child’s pool where she swims and DIVES! She has a friggin slide and ambles up the plastic walkway to slide into her little slice of heaven.

Elaine and I worked for about two hours. Each hay lift and walk was the equivalent of dead lift and farmer’s walk. And, with my lumbar curve in order, I believe this is EXACTLY what CrossFit trains you for: REAL LIFE FUNCTIONAL MOVEMENTS.

Finally, in a moving montage of breathtaking athleticism, I chop wood. I shall share this artistic fashion shoot as long as no one deigns to make a comparison between me and Gimli from The Lord of The Rings. (Gimli-the honorable, stalwart dwarf who like to fight the Orcs with his axe.)