‘Twas the night before the Twelve Days of CrossFit, when all through the gym Not a creature was stirring, not even a coach; The plates were all stacked by the barbells with care, In hopes that the early CrossFit class soon would be there;
The members were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of burpees danced in their heads; And Mikey in his hoodie, and I in my cap, Had just settled down from programming a chipper.
When out in the lot there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the office to see what was the matter. Away to the bay door I flew like Dan Bailey, Tore open the latch, and pulled up door.
The building lights on the frosted asphalt pavement, Gave life to the tracks where runners once ran, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a minute prowler sled with eight tiny competitors,
With a jolly old guide, lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be The Coach. More rapid than sprinters his athletes they came, And he grunted and shouted and called them by name;
“Now Fronning! now, Chan! Now, Smith and Panchik! On, Thorisdottir! On, Sigmundsdottir! On, Foucher and Clever! Push, pull that prowler! Deeper in that squat! Now sprint away! Sprint away! Sprint away all!”
As chalk flies off hands that have clapped, When they meet with an obstacle, no one ever cries. So up to the box the athletes they flew, With prowler in tow, and with the screaming Coach too.
And then in a instant, I heard from the gym The clanging and thumping of weights as they dropped. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Descending the rope Coach came with a bound.
He was dressed in Reebok, from his head to his toes, And his clothes were grayed with a white-chalky glow. A bundle of gear he had flung on his back, And he looked like a street trader, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they lit up! His 5 o’clock shadow! His mischievous sneer and cheeks as they billowed. His lip curled up was drawn like a chain on a bar, And his chin started to quiver as he grunted “3, 2, 1, go!”
The butt of an RxBar he held tight in his teeth, And a cloud of chalk encircled his head like a wreath. He had a stern face and a big barrel chest, That shook when he screamed, “give me one more rep!”
He was stoic and strong, a right serious coach, And I gasped when I saw him, in fear of reproach! A wink of his eye and a nod of his head, Soon gave me to know I had no WOD to dread.
Coach spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the shoe cubbies, then turned with a jerk. And laying his fore fingers ontop his strong chin, He gave me belief to have no fear and begin.
He sprang to his prowler, to his team gave jolt, And away they all sprinted like one Usain Bolt. But I heard him exclaim, as he passed out of sight, “Happy CrossFit to all, and to all a good night!”