Dottir

by Katrin Davidsdottir

  I was feeling so much more pressure than in years past, however. I was feeling threatened, if I’m being honest. If I got beaten in a workout, I would become defensive. I truly felt the weight of the target on my back for the first time since last year’s Games. In the past I would thrive on people expecting big things of me, but everything about this was different. I felt unprepared. I wasn’t where I wanted to be athletically, and it was eating at me. I had no confidence.

  * * *

  Brooke Wells took sixth place at the 2015 Reebok CrossFit Games. We had become friends and I really loved being around her. After the Games, I had connected her with both Ben and my nutrition coach, Adee. She became a member of the CompTrain team.

  It was a little nerve-racking, opening up my resources and my team to another top-ten athlete, but I loved Brooke and wanted her to thrive. But pretty quickly I could tell it wasn’t going to be easy for me. I was feeling insecure, and since we were going head to head, I was bringing Games-level intensity to every workout.

  My relationship with Annie being the anomaly, I also don’t know if it’s possible for Games athletes of the same gender to train together full-time.

  It’s different with male competitors, too. In fact, one of my favorite training partners in the world is Mat Fraser. We can push each other so hard. Win, lose, or draw, it doesn’t matter. We are not in direct competition. We spur each other on, but we are not contenders for the other’s title. Brooke and I are, and I felt like we were trying to prove something every day.

  And, if I’m being honest, I was feeling insecure. We were handing over the playbook to my championships.

  Additionally I felt like I wasn’t getting Ben’s full attention. He now had a handful of athletes to assist and I felt like anyone else’s gain was my loss. These thoughts run counter to everything I know, but I was having a really hard time. I’m not proud of this, but it was how I felt at the time.

  Sometimes Ben would tell people just to watch me for instruction on what to do next.

  “Watch how Katrin does it. See the way she does rope climbs?”

  I didn’t want to demonstrate. I needed coaching now more than ever. I felt like Brooke had everything to gain and I wasn’t learning anything. She was doing my warm-ups and eating what I ate, which made sense because she was part of our team. But ultimately we would meet on the competition floor. It was an unhealthy training environment for me and it affected my relationship with Brooke. We both wanted to win the Games.

  I finally broke in a training session and told Ben how I was feeling about the whole thing.

  Normally, if I’m making progress, I’m good, and I can stay in my lane. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks or does. If I can walk out there knowing I got better, then I’m happy with that.

  In combination with the fact that I wasn’t where I wanted to be, there was conflict in my heart and it raised my defenses. For the first time, I wanted to protect what I had. Suddenly, Brooke had the same nutritionist, agent, and coach. I didn’t like it— it—she was in my space. I take full ownership of the fact that this is not the headspace of a confident champion.

  Brooke left CFNE, but came back for Fight Camp in the final run-up to the Games. Cole also came out and we headed to the Cape.

  We were doing lots of personal-development work every morning and, as usual, digging into binders Ben had created for us. I was having a harder time investing myself.

  “I want you to write a letter to yourselves from after the Games,” he instructed. “What do you want to have accomplished? What are your hopes for your performance? Most important, who do you hope to be during the competition?”

  Brooke, Cole, and I would write some of our core values, why we held them dear, and how we would live by them. It was great as a practice, but I take everything very seriously. I dug deep in those exercises and it required vulnerability. We would read our responses out loud, which was tough.

  Living under one roof can be a party, but it can also be torture. It’s hard to find an escape or get any alone time. Where I would typically thrive on this abundance of energy, I found myself yearning to be by myself. I found myself more tired than usual and even though the training was fun, I liked it far less than in past years.

  Normally I’m sad when we leave the Cape. The arrival of the CrossFit Games signals the end of the best training we do. This year it was the opposite. I welcomed the start of the Games for the first time in my career—less because of how prepared I felt and more because I was ready for Games training to be over. It was a nuanced but highly meaningful difference.

  In reality none of this was about Brooke. This was about me and my own headspace. Since then I’ve resolved my own feelings and Brooke has remained one of my closest friends in the sport. Now I can be so thankful to be taking this journey with her and not against her. Now I can see the push makes both of us better. In 2015, my love for training led me to victory. I was afraid that was in danger. Training was more of a challenge than a tool. All the pressure felt crushing. I had doubts about everything—my coaching, my preparation, and my abilities. Mostly, I was lonely. I missed Amma.

  * * *

  “Are you ready?” Heber Cannon asked point blank as we sat on the patio on the Cape.

  Cannon is a highly talented filmmaker, formerly employed by CrossFit HQ Media. Along with Marston Sawyers and Mariah Moore, he is responsible for creating the CrossFit Games documentaries that have showcased the CrossFit Games in years past.

  “No,” I replied.

  I was slightly detached from the conversation and was less worried than usual about what he would think.

  “What do you mean?”

  I caught him on his heels with my answer.

  “I’m not ready, but I will be,” I said casually.

  “How can you be sure?”

  He was prying now, trying to wrap his head around my curious answer.

  “I always get there, Heber.”

  As the words left my mouth I wondered if I was lying. It was true that I had always been ready when the time came in years past. But I had huge looming doubts now. Normally I feel so fit at the Games. I get tired but I can just keep going. But at the Cape this year I had not felt that yet. I didn’t have the extra gear. Everything was just a little bit off. I had fitness and my team was stronger than ever. But I was missing the spark. I didn’t have “it.” That feeling that I was about to take the stage and wow an audience. My swagger was gone.

  16

  THE TIGER AND THE DEER

  DÁDÝRIÐ & TÍGURINN

  “Inside of me there are two dogs. One is evil—he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.” He continued, “The other is good—he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you—and inside every other person, too. When asked which one wins I answer, the one I feed the most.”

  —CHEROKEE STORY OF “TWO WOLVES”

  Flying into Madison, Wisconsin, my plane passes directly over the Alliant Energy Center on final approach. I know next to nothing about this place and wonder what it will mean to the competition, the events, and my ability to win. As I gaze out the airplane window at the venue, curiosity overcomes me. What will happen on that competition floor? I had won the competition twice. I know I’m fit enough to do it again. I feel a twinge of doubt. In Carson, my confidence was bulletproof. I had felt prepared for anything. Now my confidence is dwindling. The feelings are familiar. I had last felt them in 2014.

  When my plane lands, I consider the possibility that change could be just what I need. I want to believe it’s going to be good. My optimism grows when I see how the city is embracing us. The Games have taken over Madison. Every restaurant, street corner, and park bench is adorned with CrossFit paraphernalia, advertisements, and fans of the sport. Uber drivers ask about the Games, and I walk by decals of
myself and other Games athletes in the windows and on the walls of local establishments near the capitol building.

  As soon as we arrive, we drive out of town in search of an obstacle course in one of Madison’s neighboring towns. Ben is driving and it’s another forty-five minutes to our destination. I sit shotgun, staring out my window at the expansive Wisconsin sky. On one side of road, I see ominous clouds in shades of gray and purple. On the other side, I see a clear blue sky and a beaming sun. The biggest rainbow I have ever seen spans the highway, connecting the fury and the peace.

  “Amma is here,” I say, recalling my beloved grandmother.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Ben replies.

  Still, I feel uncertainty nagging me.

  August 1, 2017—CrossFit Games

  “Turn here, go left, left, TURN!”

  I was shouting and now the wheels of our rental car immediately screeched as we peeled onto a one-way street that hugs the waterfront of Lake Monona and continued to race along. I was in the passenger seat relaying the directions from my phone to Heather. According to Google Maps, we were nine minutes from the hotel. The bus for the individual athlete dinner would leave in ten.

  Ever since my first Games in 2012, I’ve had a ritual of getting my nails done right after check-in on Monday. I was accustomed to Carson, where the salon was right next to the athlete hotel. It was a relaxing way to get my mind off the stress of the upcoming week. I could walk over, pick a color, and melt into the chair. In Madison, we had trouble finding a nail salon. Heather, her daughter Maya, and I walked around unsuccessfully and ended up having to drive across town, which we didn’t realize would cut it close for a timely arrival for the athlete dinner. Showing up late would not be a good way to start the Games, but this is one pre-competition ritual that made me feel peaceful. We might have broken a traffic law or two, but Heather got me to the bus with a minute to spare. Most importantly, I was rocking the best nails in the field.

  I sat with Annie at dinner. As comfortable as I now felt being a Games athlete, it blew my mind that this was Annie’s eighth time competing. When Dave Castro arrived, the first thing we learned was that the schedule for the week would be different from years past. For the first time, we would not be competing early in the week. Events would run Thursday through Sunday. It was a small change, but a significant one for me personally. I wanted the test to be drawn out and difficult to suit my strengths. I was excited to see how Dave would match the wow factor that came from middle-of-the-night escapes to LAX, trips to military bases, and swims in the vast Pacific Ocean.

  “I’m not big into welcomes and big kumbayas,” he said. “Because at this stage, I view each and every one of you as subjects. Subjects that are gonna go through tests. Tests that lead to an event that finds the fittest man and fittest woman alive. And of those tests, some details are known, some details are not known. Some details will be found out literally moments before you take the floor this year.”

  Dave went on to release some of those details, starting with a ladder that would take us through bar muscle-ups paired with the heaviest cleans we had ever faced in competition.

  “This is killing my OCD,” joked competitor Patrick Vellner as Dave announced the event weights one at a time by scribbling them on poster board with a permanent maker, then passing them to the athletes nearest to him, who would hold them up for the rest of us to read. I was taking notes on my phone as he spoke. But when Dave announced the weights for female competitors, I was pulled back into the moment. The final two cleans would be 235 pounds—5 pounds over my 1-rep max. All I could do was hope for a dose of adrenaline.

  Dave’s Instagram had become an information portal for event details and advanced leaks. Over the month of July, he had posted some obvious clues and others that were nearly indecipherable. We knew we would face a custom-built obstacle course and a 1-rep-max snatch.

  On July 12, he had posted a picture on his Instagram of an odd-looking bike. Most people had guessed we would be tackling a long distance on the road. Now Dave revealed that we would actually be trying our hands at the sport of Cyclocross. Madison is the home of Trek Bikes, and its team had put together a 1.5 mile course with obstacles, hairpin turns, and tight corners. On Wednesday we would perform a single-lap time trial on the course that would seed us for the race. Thursday was race day; heats of twenty athletes would fight through three laps for time.

  “In Carson you had to worry about sharks.” Dave smiled. “Here you have to worry about each other.”

  He went on to warn us that the event would be one of the more dangerous we would face. There was potential for injury, he noted, and we should be careful. I pictured chaos on the track as he spoke.

  “There’s a lot that can go wrong in this event on Wednesday when you’re doing the single-time trial. It’s multiplied by twenty when you race on Thursday.”

  * * *

  We spent most of our first day outside. There was still one unknown event that would christen our new venue later in the evening, but before that we had two events that would pit us against the landscape of Madison as well as our fellow competitors.

  The opening event was based on the physical tests Dave had been subjected to as a Navy SEAL, and the format was as simple as it gets. The sky was dark and ominous on the first day, and along with the other athletes, I was about to get my first introduction to the new brand of adversity we would face in Madison: rainstorms. In the Midwestern United States, those brought the potential hazard of lightning. Similar to the beach event in 2016, all eighty athletes—men and women—would be in one massive heat.

  EVENT 1: RUN SWIM RUN

  Run 1.5 miles

  Swim 500 meters

  Run 1.5 miles

  As I walked down the boat ramp at the start of the race, I could see the morning calm of Lake Monona thrashing with a flurry of athletes. At the moment of truth I did a shallow dive, put my face in the water, and came up gasping for air. Really, Katrin? I asked myself. I suffered through the swim and came out of the water in the middle of the women’s pack.

  My running was distressed from the swim, which I still didn’t manage nearly as well as I’d hoped. Frustrated with the incongruence between my solid swimming ability in a pool and what happens when I hit the open water in competition, I couldn’t make up the ground I had lost. By the time I was running back into the Alliant Energy Center campus, the sky had opened up and I was dashing between sheets of rain. I crossed the finish line confused and disappointed with myself.

  It wasn’t time to panic. It was Friday and we still had everything left to do. Nonetheless, it was disappointing. Performing your best and missing out on points is one thing. Missing out on easy points early in the competition, however, will always come back to bite you at the end of the weekend. I was frustrated, but it was time to let it go. We had three hours before the next event. It was time to turn the page and move on.

  The uniqueness of the Cyclocross event elevated it to my list of all-time favorites. Quann Park lies adjacent to the Alliant Energy Center. They call it a dog park, but they should call it a dog heaven. The 55 acres of low, rolling hills span farther than the eye can see. The Trek team had cut a track across it that looked like a giant maze emblazoned on the hillside.

  The course was wet and slippery, making the obstacles more treacherous. Some women had survived serious crashes during the time trial. I was fearless in the face of all that. I was trying to take turns and cutting in on the other girls early in the race.

  “Know yourself, know the course, and know how you fit within the scheme,” commentator Chase Ingraham said. “And that’s what Katrin Davidsdottir might do better than anyone else out here.”

  I had broken the course down into pieces in my mind, which made it really fun. I couldn’t keep up with Sam Briggs and Kristin Holte, but I was very happy with my result. I finished in the top five, setting myself up to race in the second heat with the other top women.

  After the Cyclocross event, I ha
d a five-hour break. I used it to formulate a game plan for the evening event. When the Games had moved to Carson from the Ranch, the first event competitors faced in the tennis stadium was a couplet of muscle-ups and squat snatches. The workout was named Amanda in honor of Amanda Miller, a 2009 Games competitor who lost her life to melanoma just months after competing in Aromas. Since 2010, the event has been iconic. Dave had told us that morning that we would christen this new stadium with the same workout he had used to christen the StubHub Center.

  The event had evolved, of course, to account for the increase in fitness since 2010. In addition to the rounds of 9, 7, and 5, Dave added two rounds on the front end of the event: 13 and 11. The event was called Amanda .45:

  13-11-9-7-5 REPS FOR TIME:

  Muscle-ups

  Squat snatches (95 pounds)

  Oh shit, I thought the moment that Dave had briefed it. This was not my jam.

  Muscle-ups are like swimming, in that no matter how much focus and attention I give them in training, I often revert to old habits when I face them in competition. I kept my composure and went to talk to Ben. We devised a strategy. The only way this event would go terribly wrong was if I tried to compete with someone else. I was in the final heat, which meant that, at a glance, I could see women for whom this workout seemed custom-made. If I allowed myself to get caught up in the moment and took my muscle-ups to failure, my debut in the Coliseum would be a disaster. More than ever, it was imperative I put on blinders to the rest of the competition.