A CrossFitter's Hands


They belong to doctors, lawyers,
Students, mothers.
They are black, white, brown,
and every color in between.
Some have wedding bands.
Some have marks where one once was.
Some have bitten down nails.
Others have perfectly manicured cuticles.
For every difference they have,
they are, among all else, equal.
Because they push
when they want to give up.
They grab the bar and pull
when they feel like there’s nothing left.
They hold the barbell and lift
when the skin is rubbed raw.
They fist pump each other
After a workout so hard, they almost cry.
They hug people who have become family
When they get their first pull-up.
They high-five the girl who took 20 minutes
Longer than everyone else.
Because she finished.
They clap and cheer as they wait for the guy
running his first mile.
They clink a beer at a bar on the weekend,
brethren in some secret club.
They callous, they tear, they bleed.
They are not pretty.
They are beautiful.
A Crossfitter’s hands


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