.

I have three boys. Three messy, hungry, dirty boys.

They fight constantly, come inside for dinner muddy, eat me out of house and home (you think CrossFitters eat a lot?!) and will look me right in the face and swear they did not, contrary to glaring evidence otherwise, do XYZ. It’s almost admirable.

But they also do things like pick me wildflowers, tell me I am beautiful, make me pancakes, and read to me.

One of our favorite things to do is sneak into the gym on Sundays. I coach at the same box I train in, so I have a key. On Sunday afternoons we often go into the box with the dog to work out. I’ll let the boys pick the movements they want to do and they’ll rock-paper-scissors for the rep scheme. We have a deal that they can choose the music, provided they keep moving the whole time. The second they stop, it goes to Mom’s playlist which they hate, out of principle.

There is always, always, always a light saber fight with the PVC pipes.

We don’t always go to the gym. We also hike and paddleboard and camp and go rock climbing. We play handball and soccer in the street. They love bike rides to the park or the library. Many times I’ve carried a child home with a skinned knee.

All the times they’ve fallen asleep in my truck and needed to be carried in, I was able to do it. All the times they’ve been sick to their stomach and asked to be carried to their room, it was me. When their science fair volcano wound up weighing a very fragile 47 pounds, it was Mom.

So many overpacked suitcases.

I can remember, quite distinctly, sitting in a crowded room and hearing my youngest son brag to his friends, “My mom can do that. She’s the strongest person on the whole planet.”

I can also remember, still quite distinctly, someone who loved me very much telling me that training as much as I do is selfish. That I was doing my children a disservice. That I should sit down and really reconsider my priorities.

The voices that you allow in will be the voices that you hear.

I understand that it is not just CrossFit that builds strength of mind, of body, of character. It is a lot of things.

But I am a better person when I am training regularly. A better mother. A better partner. A better friend. A better coach, teacher, and writer. A better community member. A better servant.

When I demand the best of myself, I am able to offer it to those that require it of me.

My children deserve that.

So do yours.

Here’s to always demanding the best and to being your kids “strongest on the planet” in all possible ways.

Happy Mother’s Day,

Jessica Danger
Managing Editor