In August of last year my beautiful wife and I bought a brand new 3-story loft that had an attached 2-car garage with ceilings just barely high enough for me to lift in. I was so excited, as I had basically been raised in garage gyms since I started Olympic lifting at Coach Burgener’s years ago. I was finally going to be able to take all my weights out of my buddy’s garage and set up shop once again and lift in the sanctuary of my own place. So I went to work and got everything I needed, I stall-matted the entire thing, utilized every square inch of space I had, bought beautiful racks, stall bars, power blocks, and it was just dialed in—I couldn’t have been happier. It was a single-platform gym with everything you could need.
The neighbors would walk by and say Hi, ask what it was, and I always made it a point to be nice and as courteous as possible with the noise and be done with the O-lifts by no later than 5:30 in the evening. I loved my gym—it was my place and it was perfect. I would think 16-year-old Mike would be really happy with 42-year-old Mike.
16 Y/O Mike: Let me get this straight? You are still lifting weights 26 year later listening to the Misfits?
42 Y/O Mike: That’s right, dude, and your wife is hot.
16 Y/O Mike: Awesome. Do I ever pass Pre-algebra?
42 Y/O Mike: Yeah, but it takes a while. By the way, cut that mullet off.
Then it happened… A letter from the HOA. For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s a governing body that you pay into to make sure the rules of the neighborhood are followed and people don’t park RVs in their front yard for 6 months. They are apparently not Olympic lifting friendly; all it took was that one neighbor who didn’t think the daily Mike show of me lifting with my friends was what they wanted on their street. I tried fighting it, but the fines were about to start rolling, and I don’t need that kind of shit every time I lift, wondering which neighbor is going to rat me out again.
Now I am pissed. I have dumped some serious cash and time into my space, I am running out of options, and I have to lift. So I do it, something I never thought I would: I walked upstairs (by the way, if you lift frequently, think twice before you buy a three-story anything) jumped on the Mac, typed in “Crossfit Gyms”, and boom, the screen exploded. Apparently you can’t swing a dead cat in San Diego without hitting three. Closest one was 4.5 miles away, so I jumped in my car and drove down. I didn’t know a thing about the place and my entire plan was just to ask if I could lift in a corner and not bother anyone.
Erwin, a very nice guy, greeted me at the door, said they had a “barbell club” and walked me over to the side of the gym where it was. It was tucked away from the “Gen Pop” side and it was awesome. Three platforms, great bars and kilo bumpers—that’s right they had KILO F-ING bumpers. I was shocked. I like to think I am pretty jaded guy, but I will admit I was shocked. I shook his hand said it looked great and I would get back to him.
I went home and discussed it with the wife. She was on board because everyone knows a happy Mike, is, well, a happy Mike. So the next week I decided to drop in and lift at the place just to make sure it was fun and had the intensity I liked to lift in. I met the other Barbell coach, Mike, and he was cool: Ex-Military, so that’s always a plus, and really easy to talk to. Turns out in a couple weeks he and Erwin were going to be at the Catalyst Athletics Cert that I was going to be helping Greg at, so that was a good sign. Other lifters started rolling in and the place started humming along. I had a good training session and I liked the energy. It was pretty good group and people were working. It was a bit low key at first; I tend to be a bit upbeat when I train and like to yell encouraging words and get pretty fired up while having a good time. Mike was great in that he said if I saw anything wrong with the lifters, I could help him correct it if I wanted.
Fast-forward to a few weeks later: I couldn’t be happier. The owners of the gym have really welcomed me and the place is just awesome. The intensity in there is great, and there is a really hard working crew that shows up ready to get after it everyday. People pay attention to other people’s lifts, give encouragement, and they bust balls when it’s appropriate. We are off to the side, but you can see more and more people looking over and trickling our way every week. I took my buddy Murphy, who I have been lifting with for years. He’s a pretty cynical guy, and even he said that atmosphere was awesome. I even brought my T-bar rower in because you have to have one of those.
I can honestly say I’m glad my a-hole neighbor ratted me out to the HOA. I found a great place to train and a bunch of new people to train with (although I wish they had done it before I had to move and cut all of those freaking stall mats). I’m still doing arms and the Roadhouse complex at night with garage door shut while I listen to Lunatic Fringe, because you can’t shut me all the way down.
So please remember that just because one door shuts, it isn’t the end of the world. Just start kicking in other ones until you find some kilo bumpers, then walk in and say hi!
I want to thank James, Sarah, Jessica, Erwin, Mike and the rest of the Outlier Crossfit crew for welcoming me in and giving me a great place to train.