What CrossFit, a Strength and Conditioning Exercise Program, Taught Me About Foster-to-Adopt
By Rachel Fulginiti
On a sunny October morning I sat in my kitchen, spooning runny rice cereal into the non-compliant mouth of my 5-month-old. My phone rang. It was my friend Amy.
“Hey, you’ll never believe what I signed up for.”
“What did you sign up for?”
“This CrossFit bootcamp. I kept seeing their ads on Facebook.”
“Wait a minute, Valley CrossFit? I’ve had my eye on that program.”
“Let’s do it together.”
I’d always been more of a dance and yoga kind of person, but I signed up. It’d been nearly six months since our life had radically changed, and I’d been in survival mode. Becoming an overnight foster parent at almost 45 years old to a medically fragile infant, my self-care had gone out the window.
There’s no way to adequately prepare for how the seismic shift of bringing home a child will affect your life. For me, it looked like trying to keep all the plates spinning, caring for a baby who’d just had open heart surgery while trying to keep my freelance voiceover career afloat with an unpredictable schedule and tight deadlines.
With no family around to help, I’d stopped exercising. There was only so much time in the day between doctor appointments, therapies and social worker visits. I was looking forward to putting something back in my life that would be just for me.
The first day of boot camp, I entered the massive converted warehouse, my legs shaky, overwhelmed by the pungent smell of sweat and the sound of blaring music and iron hitting the floor. I scanned the group of about 20 people, not one of them my friend Amy. Class was about to start. Looked like I was on my own.
After warmups, learning what a burpee was and doing an ungodly amount of sit-ups, it was time to try a box jump. My heart started pounding and sweat beaded at my temples as we were led to a row of 20-inch wooden boxes.
Me? Jump? Up high, on top of that thing? I mosied over, making sure I was last in line. Maybe if I stalled long enough, we’d run out of time.
No such luck. It was finally my turn. I must have looked worried as I stepped up tentatively. I stood there, staring dumbly at the box. I remember thinking “I’m scared,” but it must have actually slipped from my lips, because to my surprise, a woman moved quickly to my side.
“You’ve got this,” she said, with a quiet confidence. Then another person moved to the other side of me. “Yeah, you’ve got this.” Then another. And another. Suddenly I was surrounded by a semicircle of strong bodies quietly holding space for me.
In that moment, I knew it was now or never. If I hesitated too long, I’d psych myself out. Like that time I was stuck up on the roof of my friend’s shed that summer when I was 9.
A bunch of us kids had climbed up and then everyone, one by one, jumped down. When it was my turn, I froze. I couldn’t do it. Eventually, my friend had to get her dad, who got a ladder to get me down. But this was different. I was a grown woman and no one was coming to save me. I took a deep breath, bent my knees, and lo and behold, made it. I did my first box jump as the whole gym cheered me on.
Driving back home in my car, I got teary. I felt like I’d had a spontaneous healing. I’d never been supported in that way. I called my friend Amy to tell her about it. “Hey, where were you this morning?”
“Oh that CrossFit thing? I decided I could never do that.” I wasn’t mad; she’d gotten me there. And I was hooked. From then on, I went consistently every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 7 a.m., and it gradually changed my life. That six-week boot camp launched me into what would become a life-transforming physical and mental practice. CrossFit is a demanding animal, involving skills from weight lifting to gymnastics to metabolic conditioning. The workouts are rarely the same, and they’re always challenging. Just like a day in the life of foster care.
One of the things that’s crucial for success in CrossFit is developing your mental toughness. You learn to quiet the voices in your head saying you can’t do it.
There was one coach at the gym who was particularly tough. A nationally ranked competitor, Kris was constantly on me to improve. Often in the middle of a workout, she’d yell out, “This is the part of the workout where Rachel feels sorry for herself.” At first I was mortified, but it made me think.
Wow, she’s right, I noticed. I do tend to feel sorry for myself. Throughout the workout, the voice in my head was constantly screaming: This is so hard. I can’t do this. I realized that it just made everything more difficult.
I began noticing this voice in my head outside of the gym, as well. It was with me every day as I navigated the stressful and uncertain world of being a foster parent.
Foster care was hard. Not knowing if we were going to adopt our child was scary. Waiting so long for answers from systems beyond our control was maddening. But concentrating on those things didn’t help.
Whenever I’d find myself in a pity party, I’d hear Kris’ voice and I’d have to chuckle. It would remind me to buck up and hang in there. I was grateful to have this mirror in my life on a weekly basis, showing me how I handled challenges.
One fall morning, nearly three years since that first day of boot camp, I’d just finished a workout when I noticed Carlton, a sweet guy who’d known me since I first started coming around, staring at me. “What?” I asked him, mopping my forehead with a hand towel. “You’ve changed,” he said matter-of-factly, admiration in his eyes.
“Oh, yeah,” I mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed, “My body has really changed since I started coming here.”
“No. YOU’VE changed,” he said squarely. “You’re different. Tougher. More confident.” It hit me. It was true. When I first started coming, I often felt defeated before I even began the workout. Now here I was squatting 155 pounds with no question and no inner commentary. I’d learned to shut it off.
Or if I couldn’t shut it off, I’d figured out how to acknowledge the voice, thank it for sharing and move on with my day. I’d become grittier not only in the gym, but outside of it as well.
For the past three years, I’d fought for every ounce of fitness I’d earned. In my life outside of the gym, I’d fought hard to stay calm and for mental sobriety as I navigated the unpredictable ups and downs of foster care.
I’d learned to recognize and manage the voices in my head, to come back to the present moment when they hit, and how to stay focused on the task at hand. “Yes, I have changed,” I admitted to Carlton, owning it. I allowed myself to feel pride as I smiled back at him. I’d done something I was afraid to do, both inside and outside of the gym.
I wasn’t sure where either of these journeys would lead, but I’d stuck it out. When I needed motivation or support, I’d ask for it. And now here I was, finding myself stronger for the journey.
When I arrived home later that day, the phone rang. It was our social worker. They’d set a date for our finalization. We’d made it. We’d be adopting our baby girl into our forever family within a few weeks. •
An advocate for foster care and adoption, Rachel Fulginiti is a two-time foster-to-adopt mom. As the creator/host of the From Foster to Forever podcast, Fulginiti shares heartfelt, real-life experiences of families formed through the foster care system. She is also an award-winning audiobook narrator, voice actor, singer and writer. She is currently working on her memoir, a compelling account of her unexpected path to motherhood. Find out more about her on https://rachelfulginiti.com/.
5 Tips for Foster Parents, Inspired by CrossFit
In the CrossFit world, there are many sayings the coaches use to motivate athletes during a workout. These became touchstones for me that I’d hear in my head when things got difficult. Here are some that might be helpful for you on your foster care journey.
Get after it
This is typically said at the beginning of the workout. It means jump right in there and start. Don’t waiver, don’t think too much about it. Don’t dilly-dally, just get after it. I found myself using this when I needed to make a tough phone call or fill out more annoying paperwork. Do the hard thing first. Just go for it.
Do the thing
“Do the thing, Rachel. Just do the thing.” I heard this one a lot. When faced with something that seems daunting, don’t overcomplicate or dramatize the task, just do the thing.
Just one more rep
In the middle of a long workout, you’ll become overwhelmed if you think about how many reps you have left, so the strategy is to concentrate on doing it one rep at a time. When you’re in the trenches of foster care, it can be overwhelming to think of all the steps you have to take. It’s best to approach the journey one day at a time. Some days, one moment at a time.
This is where the fitness is
Sometimes, during a grueling set, my coach would call out: “Don’t be upset about it. The discomfort is where the fitness is.” In other words, don’t feel bad about what you think you’re not doing well — trust that this challenge is taking you somewhere new and making you stronger. Mental toughness is essential as a foster parent. If you’re struggling, understand that it’s a part of the journey. You will emerge stronger.
Finish strong
This is often called out toward the end of the workout, the coach’s reminder that it’s almost over, so don’t give up or fall apart now. I used this as a mantra often, particularly after we’d signed adoption paperwork, as we waited for months to get our actual court date for finalization. You’ve made it this far. Don’t fall apart now. Finish strong.