The Cult

Years ago I used to make fun of my friends in cults.

Some people are serious Crossfitters. One joined a couple of years ago when he was an overweight geek and now he's a musclebound young man who spends all his time at every Crossfit competition without his shirt on. Another saw his wife go through the program and reap the benefits and he jumped into it feet first this year. Now he does a 100 burpies before every workout just for fun. You want to keep your cup of Kool-Aid close by when they are around.

I got drunk with Greta on St. Patrick's Day. She's in the Kool-Aid category. We had dinner with Amanda and Gordon. Gordon works out with me. Dinner was superb and paleo. We spent an evening at Becky's. Vivian and their children go to the same school. Becky and Jo workout together. And dinner was paleo - not counting the gluten-free brownies. Yesterday we went to a barbecue. Almost everybody there Crossfits. Dinner was paleo, almost primal - the main course was pig hunted and killed and cleaned and smoked by someone at the party.

Jo and I are spending all our time hanging out with people who Crossfit and eat paleo. Very nice people. In many cases people I've known long before there was Crossfit. But still. I guess that makes me a Crossfit bitch. Or a groupee. My world has shrunk. My menu too.

There's a sliver of good news. I don't wear Lulu. Yet.