I took the leap.

Four months ago, I was feeling crazy on an uneventful Sunday and decided to take a leap of faith and sign up at a local CrossFit box near my home. I'd lifted weights before, so a lot of the things they were teaching us in our intro class I already knew. Back straight, eyes forward, don't twist your wrists.

But there is one thing I wasn't prepared for: the box jump.

We all lined up at the boxes, and I looked over to the other scared, unsure attendees as they began jumping up on the boxes, clumsily, but successfully. So far I'd bested all of them in strength and time, and was feeling pretty sure of myself.

But as I stared at the 12-inch box in front of me -- the smallest box in stock -- I felt my chest get tight. It appeared to tower in front of me, and my feet suddenly felt like cement blocks underneath my wobbly legs. Fear overtook my body as I suddenly realized I couldn't do it.

Retrospectively, there are a lot of those students in the "On Ramp" classes. The coach is encouraging and displays empathy, saying there is always something we need to work on. I mustered up enough courage to drag my cement feet off of the ground, and took a jumpstep to the box. Not a jump, but I was up there. That box, for the next four months, would become my enemy.

Slowly as I got into the "real" classes and started lifting more and improving on my times, every time I saw "box jumps" on the board at the beginning of class, my heart would sink. During the WOD, heart rate at 175, I would stare at the box in defeat and let the fear overcome me. My feet would simply never leave the ground.

Four months later, I still couldn't bring myself to jump 12 inches off of the floor.

Today I took one of the coaches aside and asked him to help me. He knew I'd been struggling with (i.e. not doing) the jumps and agreed to assist. We started with the terrifying 12-inch box, which stood in front of me as the pressure in my chest got tighter. I couldn't even bring myself to attempt it. I just stood there, swinging my arms, and walking away in embarrassment.

He pushed the box aside and suggested I try jumping onto small barbell weights. We started with the 35-pound weight. Maybe 3 inches off of the ground. No problem. He added another. And another. I was almost bored and very embarrassed, easily clearing each jump on the first try. Finally, I looked up and saw a smile on his face. When he started laughing at my dumbfounded expression, I felt my heart sink into my gut. I must look like such a child.

Then, he walked over and grabbed the 12-inch box I'd been fearing for months. He sat it next to the pile of weights I'd been easily jumping over and crossed his arms. I looked down to see that I'd been jumping /higher/ -- and with no trouble at all -- than the box. After a few seconds of amazement, I walked over to the box and, without thinking, cleared it on my first try. Ten times later, and it was still child's play. He smiled and dragged over the 18-inch box. You've got to me kidding me! There's no way.

Like my first attempt, I couldn't even muster the courage to get a foot off the ground. I stood there, shaking, feeling the same fear I'd felt on my first day. He smiled and said, let's go back to the weights. So I continued jumping, and he continued adding weights, 10 pounds by 10 pounds. When I saw his smile again this time, I knew what I had done and a joy I hadn't felt in a very long time shot through my chest. I had cleared 20 inches. I walked back to the 18-inch box and cleared it with absolutely no problem, 10, 20, 30 times. I was sweating and exhausted, but I haven't had a smile on my face that big in years.

It made me think of all the other times in my life I had doubted myself with such tenacity that I actually believed I was simply not able to accomplish something. Not only could I have easily been jumping since my first day at the gym, but there are so many other things in my life I could do if I just told myself I *could* do it. Really believed that I could take the leap.

In the past four months, I've lost 8 pounds of pure body fat, gained 2 pounds of muscle, and went down four sizes. But nothing is as satisfying as realizing what inner strength you have, and believing, finally, that you can take the leap!