Failure might be just another good day

Back when I coached CrossFit, I wrote a workout called “Groundhog’s Day”. To those reading this who went through it, I am sorry. For those who never drank the Kool-Aid or met Pukie the Clown, one of the big ideas behind CrossFit is “constantly varied functional movement”. This means that, in a typical CrossFit gym, no one knows what the workout of the day (the WOD) is going to be before they get there, and they almost never do the same workout twice.

But Groundhog’s Day was different. We would do the workout…then do it again the next week, and again the next. In the CrossFit world, doing the same workout for three consecutive weeks was UNHEARD of, and typically, athletes “win” a workout by having the fastest time, the heaviest weight, or the most reps. But to “win” at Groundhog’s Day, athletes need to improve their time every week. It didn’t matter if they were headed to the CrossFit Games or fresh off the couch—get better every week and you win.

Here's the workout: do 50 wall balls with a 20 or 14 pound medicine ball, do 10 burpees, a 400m run, 45 power cleans, 10 burpees, another 400m run, 40 thrusters, 10 more burpees, and then a final 400m run.

A WOD structured like this is called a “chipper”: athletes chip away at the reps of each movement before moving onto the next, and their score is the time it takes to complete the workout.

Groundhog’s Day is a race to the finish…and it’s gross. Only a few people know this, but after testing the workout for the first time, I originally gave it the name “Mr. Poopy Pants”.

So, every year on February 2nd, I would wake up, post a picture of Bill Murray to Facebook, and after that final 400m run, watch class after class collapse on the floor in pools of puke and sweat and lactic acid.

It was beautiful.

With Groundhog’s Day, typically what would happen was this:

Week 1: People do the workout and complain about how hard it was

Week 2: Almost everyone sets a new PR and there is much rejoicing

Week 3: Almost everyone fails or they don’t come to class

What made it beautiful was that the time span between week one and week two isn’t long enough for a significant physical adaptation: getting stronger, faster, or more enduring doesn’t explain all the PRs.

So why, year after year, did almost everyone PR the second week? And why, if it was nearly impossible to get a better time in week three and very likely most people would skip class, do it again?

Constant variation of workouts can be great for keeping people’s interest and improving general physical preparedness—but it also gives room to hide. Apart from once-a-year benchmark workouts like Fran and Diane, never doing the same workout twice means that there isn't any accountability for effort: someone could sandbag every workout while convincing themselves that they were doing their best, even if that wasn’t true.

More than a workout, Groundhog’s Day was a confrontation. The point of this workout WASN’T to make everybody feel great about themselves, but to confront them with how well they did and how well they could have done. It was to see what how they would react facing a significant amount of pain and almost certain failure. I wanted to see if they did hard things to get better or only when there was a high chance of success.

The motivation that comes from experiencing success is wonderful. It's important. But ask anyone who's hit rock bottom, the anger and disappointment that comes from failure can give us the energy to do the things we should have already been doing. I wanted to see if they were willing to embrace failure or run away from it.

Failure is a chance to examine ourselves unhidden, a moment to learn something about who we are that can't happen any other way.

So, some questions today while we’re looking at shadows:

Am I doing my best or have I convinced myself I'm doing my best?

Am I doing things to get better or to experience success?

Am I willing to embrace failure as an important part of growth?

Am I humble enough to understand what I see as the failures of others as important parts of their growth, instead of a personal affront to my life?

Is there really going to be more winter?

And, to steal some quotes from the movie: do I see failure as cold, grey, and something that will last for the rest of my life?

Or is failure just another pretty good day?