Spring slacking: How to keep fit, beyond New Year's
February is that time of year when our New Year's resolutions fade in memory, and we head for the doughnuts.
Toby Watson of CrossFit on the Move knows about backsliding.
A few years ago, this superfit veteran came home from the war and got fat.
He had excuses: He was still eating the same high-calorie meals he ate overseas, but he wasn’t working 12-hour days, wearing body armor all day or sweating in 120-degree Iraqi weather.
And he was depressed. As a general’s aide, he went to many memorial services. He lost members of his unit. He and his wife were divorced.
Ballooning up to 255 pounds, the 5-foot-11 Watson knew he needed to take some action.
Because his boss in Iraq was deputy commander of the Joint Special Operations Command, Watson had tried out the conditioning routines of the Rangers, Delta fighters and other special forces troops, some of whom use CrossFit training techniques.
“I wasn’t sure about it,” Watson, 30, said of the workout routines, which involve much squatting, jumping and juggling kettle bells. “It looked silly.”
But it was effective. Transferred to Fort Benning, he decided to start a CrossFit training class in his backyard.
“It woke me up to who I was,” said Watson, “I went from [being able to do] no pull-ups to 30 or 40.” He also trimmed down to 190 pounds.
A year ago, he opened his first studio in the intown neighborhood just west of Oakland Cemetery, then added another in Alpharetta. Last July, at the rank of captain, he took terminal leave from the Army after 6 1/2 years of service, to devote himself to CrossFit full time.
These days, he points out that the best way to avoid breaking resolutions is to avoid making them in the first place. Instead, he tells his clients, decide what is important to you, and set goals -- short, medium and long -- to get there.
A recent Saturday visit to the downtown gym, which is next to the funky art space Eyedrum, revealed a strip-mall storefront with industrial-style rubber mats on the floor, pipe-railing bolted at various heights against one wall for pull-up bars, free weights and a selection of medicine balls and “slam” balls for different tossing and catching exercises.
On another wall is an “achievement” blackboard, where participants have chalked in their latest accomplishments.
A few examples: “Rachel -- 1st HSPU” (shorthand for “hand-stand push-up) and “Kai: 95 lb C&J” (meaning a 95-pound clean and jerk) and “ripped my shorts with deep squats” (which is self-explanatory).
On this day, the participants were testing their progress by performing as many specific exercises as possible within one-minute windows, going from push-ups to hand-stand push-ups to dips to pull-ups, until they were limp with exhaustion.
(At a similar test several weeks earlier, the clients lay prostrate on the mats when they were done, and Watson puckishly drew chalk outlines around each motionless figure.) It is clear that some members are in better physical shape than others, but they seem to urge one another on.
“I felt welcome from the get-go,” said Helene McMullen, 42, a hairdresser from East Atlanta who has been taking CrossFit classes with Watson for just a few months. “It feels like a family.”
McMullen said at her previous gym, she’d arrive, plug in her iPod, exercise and leave without speaking to anyone. But at CrossFit, everyone talks. Said Watson, “We don’t wear headphones in our gym.”
The group also works together at other tasks. As a volunteer project, they walked to nearby Oakland Cemetery recently to help clean up brush and trash. On Veterans Day, 32 of Watson's clients participated in a citywide fund-raiser for the Wounded Warrior Project, competing against other CrossFit gyms and raising $5,000 to help disabled soldiers.
His goal all along has been, said Watson, “more than just fitness. It’s to build a healthy community. Then you have someone to hold you accountable.”
For more information: www.crossfitonthemove.com/

