Back at the CrossFit class, my palms were sweaty. Matt had a disarming Zen vibe, though. Just 10 minutes into the workout, when I realized I could actually do all the warm-up circuits, he came over and told me to slow it down. He wanted me to remain strong and energetic through the hour, which later included kettle-bell goblet squats that my thighs cursed me out for the next day.I quickly came to find that the pacing was the whole point. This type of fitness regimen is a process. CrossFitters commit to a very established mission of external and in turn, internal strength. At the Games, I found myself staring at the signature CrossFit bodies of women and men (broad shoulders, cut abs, legs so muscular that there’s a distinct swagger/waddle that goes along with them), and a little cultural immersion led me to find that the discipline and confidence seeps significantly deeper than the muscle.Strength can be terribly sexy. During one of the events — the squat cleans — my lower jaw hung open in awe as I watched one of the athletes, Katrín Davíðsdóttir (who ended up winning the whole women’s competition), lift a barbell loaded up with 215 pounds of weight over her head and then release it in her version of a mic drop. She wore a graceful grimace, beads of sweat rolling down her thighs, which were solid like tree trunks. Her triumph in the competition indicated to me what so many of the athletes there exemplified: a quest for unbreakable strength and willpower, both physical and mental. Despite the fact that females have less upper-body muscle mass, biologically deeming them underdogs, this woman merked rep upon rep of unfathomable weight. I imagine she could handle real life just as well, including relationships that tested her patience and character.