Hot Pockets

Hot Pockets

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I was "genuinely lost" in the grocery store the other day and found a box of Hot Pockets in my hand, pepperoni pizza flavor.

Don't judge me, but..

I caressed the sharp cardboard corners and let my childhood memories flood over me like the melted cheese that burned my mouth oh so many times.

Then, it hit me.

"There's nothing hot about these at all," I said aloud to the clueless toddler in a cart too close to me.

I continued,
"You can't buy Hot Pockets.
You can only buy cold pockets.
You're expected to supply the heat yourself.
Don't buy the lies, kid."

I looked up from the box and saw I was now alone, just like the little kid Jeff was while he was eating Hot Pockets.

Hot Pockets were the perfect metaphor for coming to CrossFit.

Like the flaky crust, all the legwork (hehe, gym joke) of making a world-class program has already been done for you.

Like the delicious filling that many times was hotter than the arshole of a dying star, the support from a community of coaches and new friends is already inside, waiting for you.

Hell, there's even a "box" to go do CrossFit in. The gym!

For a moment, it all made sense.

All you had to do was bring the heat.
All you have to do is walk in, and wonderful things happen.

I stuffed the box back into the freezer and left before anyone noticed I was drooling a little.

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