We didn't know what these four walls would hold when opened five years ago.
We didn't know they'd hold two pregnancies. That I'd stand in this exact spot coaching a 6am class with a belly that kept growing, and then again a couple years later, doing the same thing all over. We didn't know we'd bring home two babies while this place was still finding its feet, still figuring out what it wanted to be.
We didn't know these walls would hold the version of us that had no idea what we were doing yet. The version that hired our first coach and had no clue if we were doing it right. The version that kept hiring, and somehow, against all odds, ended up with some of the most phenomenal coaches this area has ever seen. People who show up for our members like family. People we didn't just find, we built with.
We didn't know these walls would hold over 250 people. Not 250 memberships. 250 people. People who walked in nervous and intimidated and left stronger than they thought they could be. People who found community here when they needed it most. People whose kids grew up in our gym doing homework while mom or dad finished a workout.
We didn't know any of it. That's the part that gets us. We just kept showing up, and these walls just kept holding whatever we brought into them.
They saw sweat, obviously. Thousands of workouts, thousands of PRs, thousands of "one more rep" moments. But that's not really what made this place ours.
They saw the quiet stuff too. The member who came in the day after a funeral because she needed somewhere that felt normal. The guy who lost 80 pounds and cried the first time he did a pull-up. The kids' classes where a five year old told us, dead serious, that CrossFit was the best part of their whole life. They saw a juvenile on probation who looked at me and asked if I was their mom how things may be different, because it felt like I loved him more than his own mother. They saw multiple members sharing the wonderful news of expecting their first baby, their second baby and even their third baby. The walls didn't see all of the news happy and exciting news. They saw us holding members who just received the news of miscarrying their baby. They saw our reactions when we heard the dropping words, "I have cancer."
So many mornings Brett and I would look at each other before opening the doors and just take a breath before the day started.
These four walls saw us figure out who we wanted to be as owners, as coaches, as parents. They saw a lot of firsts. First class. First competition we hosted. First time we had to say goodbye to a coach. First time a member told us this gym saved their life, and we had no idea what to say back except thank you.
This isn't really goodbye. It's more like closing one chapter mid-sentence because the next one is already written and waiting.
But we didn't want to just lock the door one day and walk away without saying something. These walls earned that much. They held five years of our actual life, not just our business. And they held yours too, whether you were here for one class or five years of them.
So this week, as we finish up in this space, we're going to be a little sentimental about it. We're going to look at the corner where the pull-up rig used to sit and remember teaching our first kid to hang from them and do skin the cats. We're going to look at the front desk and remember the day we found out we were pregnant, standing right there, not telling a soul yet. We're going to take a look around and truly soak it all in.
Thank you for building this with us. Thank you for showing up in a building that was never fancy, never perfect, sometimes too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, and making it feel like exactly where you were supposed to be.
See you at the new place. Same heart, same people, same mission. Just more room to hold whatever comes next.
With more gratitude than we know how to put into words,
Lexis Bauer
CrossFit Port Clinton
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