Chalk. When I chalk-up my hands I have some odd distant memory of an enormous man, from the Olympics or something, getting ready to pick-up an equally enormous amount of weight. I think my Dad would stop the channel on those scenes. And we would together watch the belted neck-less men chalk themselves then strain under the load. Seems like the crowd, or coaches I suppose, would crescendo in loud encouragement as the bar rose. Then the red faced giants would drop the bar to the ground, taped fingers and wrists work completed, then scream a little or grunt satisfactorily.
Cross Fit is nothing like that in the least. Most of us have very nice proportional necks. But it's still a little grueling, and I like it. The point: if you have to 'chalk-up' to do something it's fairly serious. Guess I do feel a little like the neck-less power lifters from my childhood memories.
Get ready! Here I come:

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