Earlier this week, I reacquainted myself with an old frien-emy: Fran.
For those unfamiliar with CrossFit, Fran is a short, classic workout that consists of twenty-one thrusters followed by twenty-one pull-ups, then fifteen of each, then nine of each. And that's it. As Pat Sherwood would say, “couldn’t be simpler”! Most people finish in under seven minutes, and many experienced athletes can complete it in under three. So why am I so sore today and why does the mere mention of this workout induce sweaty palms throughout the CrossFit community?
Fran has been aptly described as both elegantly simple and brutally effective. Like many of its “Girl-WOD” counterparts (Diane, Jackie, Helen, etc.) it requires you to perform a relatively low volume of two or three straight-forward movements – for time. And it is this combination of simplicity and intensity that leaves all of us sprawled out on the gym floor, chest heaving, questioning our life choices…but ultimately fitter.
Fran reminded me that in our pursuit of high-performance, we often embrace consistency (as we should) and novelty (as we probably shouldn’t) while overlooking the transformative power of simplicity executed with serious intensity.
In a world that has fully commercialized the concept of human performance, it is easy to believe that a new technique or tool or supplement will finally unlock our potential. We can become similarly persuaded that adhering to an extensive morning routine and a gross cup of mushroom “coffee” will ensure our productivity. But Fran and the CrossFit methodology suggest otherwise. Back in the early 2000s, a series of blog posts and grainy videos showed many of us that one can become dangerously fit with little more than a pull-up bar and a kettlebell, all while wearing a pair of Chuck Taylor’s and board shorts…and no shirt, obviously.
And the longer I live, the more I am convinced that that approach holds true for most of the important aspects of our lives and businesses. Like a master craftsman who can create beauty with just a few well-chosen tools, the most profound transformations often emerge from the intersection of simplicity and intensity. It's not about doing more things. It's about doing the right things with complete commitment.
My business partner Brandon recently wrote about the challenges of sticking with things over time. While clearly articulating the value of consistency, or what Nietzsche called “a long obedience in the same direction”, he highlighted how we tend to get bored, lose focus, or become discouraged on a long journey. More importantly, he discussed ways in which we can stay encouraged when we might otherwise lapse. And while I fully agree with his insights, as I usually do, I think it is worth exploring a critical, additional element – intensity.
Think about it. A conversation that changes a relationship may benefit from some planning, but it demands presence and courage. An insight that yields a breakthrough probably involves some analysis, but it requires focus and clear thinking. Growing a business likely involves making a bunch of sales calls, but it demands that we identify key prospects and approach them with intention. In many ways, less is more when less is better.
“A good plan, violently executed now, is better than a perfect plan executed next week”
Fran works because it forces us to conduct functional movements at high intensity. If you did the same 21-15-9 rep scheme (or even twice as many reps) at a leisurely pace, it would certainly provide you with a workout, but it would not deliver the powerful results that CrossFit has provided me and so many others.
So why do we so naturally trend toward complex or seemingly sophisticated approaches to achieving our goals? I’d say that it is because, at least in my experience, simple doesn't mean easy. In fact, the opposite is often true. Paradoxically, the simplest approaches can be the most demanding because they offer no place to hide and require full commitment. And while fitness is a useful metaphor for this concept, this is true across virtually every domain of human life.
Whenever I find myself struggling with work, marriage, parenting, faith, or health, I almost always have a two-phased response. The first is to find all sorts of ways that I can somewhat painlessly resolve my problem. The second is acknowledging that I’m wasting my time trying to skirt around the issue, and I need to do something simpler, yet harder.
The beauty of simple frameworks is that they cut through the noise and force us to confront what actually matters. When we can’t hide behind elaborate systems or complex strategies, we must depend on the quality of our effort and the depth of our intention.
The real test for many of us isn't whether we can embrace simplicity or intensity in isolation, it's whether we can integrate both into an approach that we can apply consistency. Can we identify the essential elements that truly drive results and then execute them with the kind of focused intensity that Fran demands?
This might mean having fewer priorities but pursuing them with unwavering focus. It may require choosing one or two hobbies and committing to them completely rather than dabbling in dozens. It might mean saying no to good opportunities so we can say yes wholeheartedly to great ones.
Perhaps every significant endeavor deserves its own "Fran test"—a way to strip away the non-essential and ask: if I had to distill this down to its absolute core and then execute with complete intensity, what would remain?
These aren't comfortable questions, but like a seven-minute workout that reveals everything about our fitness, the answers might reveal everything about where our real opportunities for growth lie.
The path forward isn't always about finding new methods or more sophisticated approaches. Sometimes it's about rediscovering the fundamental truths we already know and finally committing to them with the intensity they deserve.
The most powerful force in the world might just be a simple truth, clearly understood and relentlessly applied.
