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Mother F@#$*&^ ninjas

I wrote this last year, but in light of the upcoming stair climb- I thought it'd be okay to share.

I’m sitting at the base of Columbia towers in Seattle, Washington. Waiting for this complete badass lover of mine to climb sixty-nine flights of stairs. One thousand three hundred and fifty-six steps of tenacity. Seven hundred and eighty-eight feet of grit. The Scott Fire Fighter stair climb supports the lymphoma leukemia foundation. It’s raised about five million dollars over the last two years to help support children and adults coping the vicious form of cancer. The Fighters that come here take each hard fought step as they pass pictures of patients that have over come more than their fair share of fights, and some that have not. More motivation to drive them when their legs are shaking, and their mind is telling them that it’s okay to rest. They volunteer, amass in their gear, and once again fight on the line for a community of people that can’t fight on their own. In return some of us get to give a small monetary donation in their name, and maybe be fortunate enough to cheer them on as they help a cause that is worth fighting for, in a time when it’s hard to find people willing to fight.

I’m lucky. I get to be by my partners side as she checks in, gets her gear settled, and finds the zone she often finds when she is about to slay another obstacle. I get to sit here, listening to the orchestra of voices and cheers from family members and various loved ones who have gathered in support of their person who is making the climb. If you ask the fighters, the climb itself is not that important. While a challenge with good company is great, and side competitions are always fun; it is the service that draws them here. It’s doing something Uncommon in support of a greater cause, in support of something that makes a difference, a service that may at some point make a difference for someone they know and love. It’s the same call that drew them to serve with their brothers and sisters in the first place. A greater voice that pulled at them and drew at them relentlessly. A call they knew exactly how to answer - “I was fucking made for this shit.” 

It’s something that people who live in the service line industries don’t take for granted. LEOs, Fire Fighters, EMS, Military; Badasses like Kelsey Chase (the fighter I’ve been talking about) and her Crew at Chelan County 1 live here, in this Uncommon world. Humans beings doing incredible things, and making impossible choices. Like The Uncommon Breed, and the Mod Squad at CrossFit Hinge. Here, living Uncommon isn’t a tag line, it’s survival trait, a way of life that permits them to wake up breathing and fighting another day. A constant practice at being a better human being, and then helping others find their inner ninja so they can do the same. Like my family that I get to coach with here at Crossfit Wenatchee, or any other countless people out there that affect change, and build a better place to live. Not loud and thunderous, but like mother fucking ninjas, silent operators, architects - designing change and erecting it without the pomp and circumstance that is so fickle this days.

It’s sad really, that more don’t get to serve. But I guess that’s why you’re Uncommon and they’re not.


Hard Times Make Hard People. Live Uncommon.

B

  • January 22, 2018
  • UCB STAFF
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