Rosalie Glenn won the 2015 CrossFit Games, Master’s 60+ division. Like all the competitors on the field, her strength and mental stamina were astounding, and it was an honor to be on the field with her. Here she shares part of her story.
One day, early this summer, I saw an advertisement for a simple metal bracelet that said “she believed she could so she did.” That phrase really spoke to me, so I bought the bracelet and wore it almost non-stop right up to and throughout the CrossFit Games. In those dark moments during practice when I thought my lungs would burst and even as I stood on that immense stadium field during the Games, I repeated that phrase over and over to myself.
I remember the first time I attempted a CrossFit workout, not because it nearly killed me or because I felt so enlightened or invigorated, but because I approached it in a singular act of desperation at a time in my life when I felt I had exhausted every other option available to lose weight and improve my health.
For many years, I struggled with issues of eating and body image and I assumed that my CrossFit adventure would just be another chapter in that on-going saga. This struggle has not been particularly obvious to most people I’ve known—except for the mean kids that called me “Fatso” during my chubby phase in 3rd grade! Somehow, those little voices have always remained in the back of my mind, even through my years as a normal-weight, athletic teenager and a young professional wife and mother.
Because I’ve always loved cooking and eating and science, I chose a career in the field of nutrition and thus became sort of “food personified” in my work and personal life. As such, I felt an obligation to eat a perfect diet, feed my family perfect meals, maintain a perfect weight, etc, etc. For many years, I religiously counted calories and toiled away every morning in my family room to whatever exercise video series was popular. I’ve done them all—from Richard Simmons to Body Electric, Denise Austin to Power 90 to Jillian Michaels.
But then, after many years, along came menopause and a high-stress job in management and an increasingly growing fatigue with trying to keep up the appearance of personal and professional perfection. Without ever making a conscious decision, somewhere in my early 50s I became a person who felt too old and too tired to worry about that stuff anymore. Five years later, I found myself staring in the mirror at a 200-pound stranger who suffered from plantar fasciitis, chronic stomach problems, and a feeling that bordered on self-loathing for what I’d let myself become.
Against my own professional judgment, I sought help at a non-traditional weight-loss clinic and even managed to lose almost 30 pounds in 40 days on a regimen of human chorionic gonadotropin, a hormone produced during pregnancy (commonly known as HCG). As soon as I went off the drug and resumed my not-so-great diet, however, 20 of those pounds crept their way back. I was so frustrated! I knew better than to let this happen but seemed almost powerless to prevent it. I launched into another round of HCG and watched myself yo-yo back and forth for the better part of another year.
But then something I now consider close to divine intervention happened. The non-traditional physician with whom I’d been working mentioned that he was applying for an affiliate membership to open a gym that promoted a new type of exercise known as CrossFit. I showed up for that first workout and many of the others that followed in desperation. If the gym hadn’t been so new, with such a small and friendly clientele, I probably wouldn’t have persisted. To my utter embarrassment, my once-fit body was now totally unable to perform a single push-up or anything that resembled a proper air squat. I almost quit several times when I found myself unable to perform even the most highly scaled version of a particular movement. I thought, “Who am I kidding? I’ll never be able to do this stuff!”
What brought me back to every workout, however, was the open, accepting, caring concern of the people I came to call my friends there. We sweated and complained together, we whipped ourselves silly practicing double-unders, and bloodied our shins on box jumps. And somewhere along the way, this amazing body of mine began to forgive me for those years of abuse and neglect. My weight and body fat percentages began to fall in line without all of the obsessing I’d done in prior years. In practically imperceptible ways I got stronger, more flexible, and more able.
By 2015, I had entered the Crossfit Open three times, but this year I was amazed to finish in 2nd place in my age division. When I managed to maintain a spot in the top 20 and got my invitation to participate in the Games it really was, again, to my utter amazement!
I realized then that I needed to spend the summer working hard and preparing myself mentally and physically for the Games. I had received some coaching during the Master’s Qualifier from a new trainer who exuded some of the most powerfully positive energy of anyone I’ve ever met, and we worked together again toward the Games. Each session, we worked on strength and endurance, but he also never failed to give me positive reinforcement to help build my confidence. In addition, I spent substantial time doing positive visualization and striving to believe in myself. During these exercises, I would often imagine hearing the announcer say my name or seeing myself on the Jumbotron. When I got to the Games and these things actually happened, the feeling was almost surreal.
The final result of placing first still leaves me in a bit of awe. I sometimes have this funny feeling that I might wake up tomorrow morning and find myself back in Carson, California with the actual workouts yet to be done. But then I see that gold medal hanging from my bedroom mirror—a symbol of how far I’ve come, once I believed I could.