Dottir

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  Think to the sky, Keep your feet on the ground, And your heart in the right place. Remember: Light up the day with the rays of appreciation.

  These words were written by my grandmother, Hervör Jónasdóttir, to whom this book is dedicated. I think about them daily and try my best to live my life by them.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Surnames in Iceland follow the patronymic tradition of our Viking relatives. A father’s first name becomes a prefix for his children’s. Gender determines the rest. All of us are “sons” and “dottirs.” My dad is David, so I am Davidsdottir and my brother is Davidsson.

  In 2009, CrossFit was still a curiosity to people outside its ranks. That summer this fanatically enthusiastic community gained a curiosity of its own—the country of Iceland—when Annie Thorisdottir burst onto the scene at the second annual CrossFit Games. Two years later she brought home the title Fittest Woman on Earth.

  Over the next decade the dominance of Iceland’s female athletes grew with the sport: Annie, Sara Sigmundottir, and I all fighting for the top spot at the Games. Thorisdottir, Sigmundsdottir, and Davidsdottir. One country. Three hundred thirty thousand inhabitants. Ten podiums. Four championships. Two silver medals. Four bronze. All Dottirs.

  The Dottirs are no longer a curiosity at the CrossFit Games; we are a dominant force. The word itself has become symbolic of power, strength, and greatness.

  The proud tradition of Icelandic Dottirs goes back long before CrossFit on our tiny island, but the ethos of the CrossFit community fits in perfectly with our culture.

  We value capabilities over looks. We value hard work and respect. Feelings of oneness and community unite us. Additionally, Iceland has the most gender equality in the world, so it means a lot to me that men and women at the CrossFit Games have the exact same workouts, prize money, and television airtime.

  I am so proud to be part of all this. I love how every female in Iceland can relate to this and wear the name “Dottir” with pride. It brings me so much pride that I thought it was only fitting for my book to carry the name as its title!

  I hope that reading about my journey gives you confidence in your own capabilities. I hope you believe that with hard work and persistence, you, too, can accomplish anything you dream of. I hope you find the same inner strength and power for yourself that “Dottir” gives me.

  Here is to you being the best you!

  FOREWORD

  SLED DOG

  SLEÐAHUNDUR

  In her first year competing at the CrossFit Games, Katrin Davidsdottir finished in thirtieth place.

  She fared slightly better the following year, finishing twenty-fourth at the 2013 Games.

  In 2014, she didn’t compete at the Games, having failed to qualify during the Meridian Regional.

  At this point, lots of other people in similar situations might have seen the writing on the wall and quite reasonably concluded, “Maybe this isn’t for me.” After three years of training and competing to become the Fittest on Earth, Katrin seemed to be moving backward.

  Certainly, many people lose interest after a lot less. Would-be golfers pack it in after a couple of lessons when their progress stalls. Scores of people give up piano when they don’t become a concert pianist after a year of practicing. From where she stood in 2014, it would have made sense for Katrin to conclude that she just wasn’t destined to be among the elite of the elite.

  She might have shrugged and gone back to the gym, content with being a “Games Athlete”—an extraordinary group of humans—and just enjoyed the experience year after year. Or she might have quit, discouraged by the level of discipline, training, and sacrifice it takes to be mediocre at the CrossFit Games.

  Katrin did something else.

  Katrin dug her heels in. She decided that she did want to be among the elite of the elite, and she was willing to completely reinvent herself to do it. At the age of twenty-two, Kat went pro. She left the familiar comforts of her family, friends, and country behind and started a new life in Boston, training like a professional athlete with me at my gym, CrossFit New England (CFNE).

  * * *

  The way I build an athlete is from the inside out. I have no idea if this is the right approach, but it’s the way I do it. It starts with character first, and there are four traits in particular I look for when deciding to take on a new athlete—coachability, confidence, positivity, and passion. From the beginning, Katrin has embodied these qualities better than any athlete I’ve worked with.

  Before she moved to Boston, Katrin had been to CFNE a handful of times for various training camps. During these early visits, one of the things that stood out to me was how coachable she was. She wanted to be coached. She loved feedback. So many athletes receive coaching cautiously, or even painfully. As their performance is being critiqued, you can see it in their eyes—they’re wondering what your criticism means in the bigger picture. Does Ben not think I’m a good athlete? Does this mean Ben doesn’t like me? What if he doesn’t want to coach me anymore? Does he think I’m not trying hard enough? From the beginning, Katrin was different. When Katrin absorbs feedback, she takes it at face value, with no thought other than how she can use the information to get better. If there is the smallest chance it might make her better, she wants to know about it.

  Over the years, Kat’s coachability has evolved into a superpower. She understands and truly believes in the notion that “you win or you learn.” To her, it’s never about “passing the test,” because in her mind, there is no test—everything is simply an opportunity to learn or improve in some way. It’s the reason that, even as a two-time champion, she’s continued to grow and improve, and it’s what makes coaching her so exciting.

  The second thing I look for in my athletes is confidence, but it’s not most people’s understanding of confidence. To me, “confidence” is not walking onto the competition floor knowing you can win. Confidence is going out onto the floor knowing that no matter what happens, you’ll be able to deliver your best; that no amount of adversity can prevent you from meeting your potential. Katrin not only does this, but has internalized it as part of her worldview—“be the best me” is a phrase she’s popularized. Kat has figured out something that few competitors grasp: that the best result she can possibly hope for is the best she’s capable of, and that other people’s results have nothing to do with her best effort.

  The most poignant example of this occurred at the 2015 Games, during a legless rope climb workout in which she finished in fifteenth place. Despite multiple top-five finishes that year, Kat regards that legless rope climb workout as her best performance of the weekend because of the way she was able to stay confident in her abilities, ignore what was happening around her, and deliver the best result she was capable of. It’s one of my proudest memories as her coach.

  The third quality I look for in an athlete is positivity, for the simple reason that what we focus on we see more of. If an a
thlete can look at a “bad” situation and see opportunities instead of obstacles, they’ll perform better. Most people understand this in principle—of course being positive is more productive than being negative—but putting it into practice is much more difficult. Katrin has learned how to shift from a negative headspace back to a positive outlook better than anyone I’ve ever met. She never hangs on to the negative and, as a result, is always moving forward.

  During the 2016 Games, for example, several athletes were asked by a documentarian how they were feeling before the beach event. The day before had been brutally long—even by CrossFit Games standards—with travel to and competition at a rugged off-site venue, followed by unexpected delays on the return trip that kept all the athletes up until 1 a.m. When asked, one of the women described how much harder this year was compared to years past. She complained about the early flight, the brutal workouts, and the limited amount of sleep she had gotten because of the delays. When asked the same question, Katrin answered with her patented positivity, noting how much she had been able to sleep during the delays and how fired up she was to be competing again already. As ever, her perception of her circumstances allowed her to see advantage and opportunity where many of her competitors saw adversity and difficulty.

  The fourth thing I look for is passion. At least it was, until I started working with Katrin. Passion, I reasoned, was crucial to enduring the level of work, sacrifice, and discomfort that success in this sport demands. But Katrin isn’t passionate. When it comes to training for the CrossFit Games, Kat is 5 or 6 degrees past passion, in a land most people would call obsession. Over the years, Katrin showed me that to be exceptional, passion is not nearly enough. She didn’t go from being a mediocre Games athlete to winning back-to-back Games championships by being passionate—she got there by being obsessed.

  * * *

  As amazing as she is as an athlete, Kat is an even more extraordinary person.

  She is whip-smart, perceptive, and thoughtful. She smiles easily and often, and has a laugh that sounds like confetti and makes everything funnier. Katrin doesn’t say anything she doesn’t mean, or talk just to make conversation—whether you’re talking about chronic disease rates in the United States or Taylor Swift’s latest music video, Kat will have a thoughtful, well-reasoned opinion and won’t be afraid to tactfully disagree with yours.

  More than anything, though, Katrin is an incredible friend. There are two kind of friendships, I think. There are the kind of friends you hang out with and talk about the workout, the weather, and how the Patriots are doing this season. And then there are the friends you share your hopes and dreams with. The kind you talk to about your fears and your insecurities. The kind who know your triumphs and your struggles. Anyone who has the privilege of calling Kat their friend will agree that she doesn’t do superficial friendships. Katrin is thoughtful, selfless, and empathetic in a way that very few people are, and she has a way of making the people she loves feel important, appreciated, and understood. Hanging out with Kat makes you feel like you’re in a really small gang, and that together, you can do anything.

  Her friendship is especially meaningful to me because I don’t have a lot of friends. I have a small handful of people that I’m close with, and Katrin is one of them.

  I think one of the signs of a deep friendship is the ability to have long silences without them ever feeling awkward. On Cape Cod last summer, my daughter Maya observed that Katrin and I can, and often do, sit at the breakfast table in complete silence for upward of thirty minutes. She was right—almost every morning on the Cape started this way. Katrin would sip her coffee and eat her bowl of precisely measured macros while I tucked into whatever Paleo Power Meal I had pulled out of the fridge. Every once in a while one of us might make a comment, but mostly we just sat and ate together in contented silence, completely comfortable just being in each other’s company.

  The same level of trust that allows Katrin and I to sit together in comfortable silence also allows us to be vulnerable with each other. In the moments immediately following the conclusion of the 2017 CrossFit Games, I knew Katrin’s disappointing results were largely my fault. I hadn’t been able to see it until that moment, but I realized with a sinking feeling that I had been distracted all year, had said yes to too many things, and hadn’t given her the attention she deserved. In short, I hadn’t held up my end of the bargain. It broke my heart to realize that she had given me everything she had, and I had let her down.

  The easy thing to do in that situation would have been to sweep those sentiments under the rug. I could have presented Katrin with some made-up reasons to explain why she hadn’t been able to perform the way she always had, and she might have believed me. But I’ve always believed that deep friendships demand more of you. The fact that I was afraid to tell Katrin that I had let her down meant that was exactly what I needed to say. An emotional, tear-filled, twenty-five-minute apology was the hard thing to do, but it was the only thing worthy of our friendship.

  One of the reasons I can say anything to Katrin is because we’re on the same path. I think all deep relationships are characterized by a kind of oneness—a shared vision or set of priorities. With my wife, Heather, this is our love, our family, and our passion for health. With Katrin, it’s a shared vision for what we’re trying to create together, which is maximizing her performance as a CrossFit Games athlete.

  My oneness with Kat started when we unknowingly decided to “go pro” at the same time. The timing could not have better—I was ready to invest everything I had into being a better coach at the exact same moment that she was ready to invest everything she had into being a better athlete. We began this journey together, at the same starting point. Our partnership has always been on equal footing; we figure things out together, test and tweak them together, and get better together.

  A lot of this has taken place during car rides. Due to the nature of our jobs, Katrin and I travel a lot together—we drive to training camps, competitions, seminars, and sponsor events. Over the years, these trips have become analogous to a Vulcan mind-meld, and are part of our secret sauce.

  One of the first times this happened was on the way to Power Monkey Camp in 2015. Katrin and I had been working together for a few months, and we spent the entire ninety-minute drive through the backwoods of Tennessee talking about mind-set principles and how they applied to our approach to the CrossFit Games. We talked about what it means to be a competitor, and the importance of your inner coach. It wasn’t like I was telling Katrin these things—we were sharing our thoughts and formulating the principles that would become the foundation for how we would operate going forward. We bounced ideas back and forth, let them roll around in the car with us, and slowly stitched together a vision for what we were trying to create together. By the time we arrived at Power Monkey, we felt like we had discovered a fourth law of gravity. We had tapped into a new power source that has continuously sparked us both forward professionally, personally, and together.

  Part of the reason I’m so close with Katrin is because I’ve spent so much time around her. When she first moved to Boston, she lived with me and my family for a year. Even when she got her own place, I would see her for three to four hours a day while I coached her. One or two days a week, I coach her for the entire day, then she comes over to my house and has dinner with my family. In the summers before the Games, she comes with us to Cape Cod and lives in our summer home. Somewhere along the way, Katrin became part of my family. She is one of Heather’s closest friends, and is like a sister to my daughter Maya and my son Jonah. My youngest son, Bode, has grown up watching Katrin and doesn’t know any world other than one full of strong and capable women. My youngest daughter, Harley Love, wants to be an Icelandic princess just like Katrin when she grows up.

  * * *

  You know her as Katrin Tanja Davidsdottir, two-time CrossFit Games champion and one of the fiercest competitors on the planet. I hope that by reading her story, you get to know Kat—the Kat I h
ave had the privilege of calling my athlete, best friend, and Dóttir.

  Every training session I’ve ever had with Katrin has ended the same way. After we’ve debriefed the day, she always gives me a hug and thanks me. “Thank you for coaching me today,” she’ll say, with her trademark fifty-megawatt smile. Kat, the most grateful person I’ve ever met, is always thanking someone for something. But the truth is, we should be thanking her.

  Thank you, Kat, for everything.

  —Ben Bergeron

  1

  YOU WIN OR YOU LEARN

  ÞÚ VINNUR EÐA ÞÚ LÆRIR

  August 6, 2017

  Momentarily, I forget where I am. The ceiling looks unfamiliar, the bed feels foreign. I start to wake up; the sheer soreness I feel hastens the process.

  It’s Sunday—the final day of competition at the 2017 Reebok CrossFit Games in Madison, Wisconsin.

  I fight my eyes open. Gravity was absent in my dream; now it feels as though its strength has doubled in my consciousness. “Tired” falls devastatingly short of describing my physical condition. I stretch my arms and wince in pain. I feel every movement from each of the ten events of the previous four days. Everything hurts—quads, calves, hamstrings—all vibrate with a consistent, dull ache. The smallest of muscles whose existence I previously ignored make their presence known with sharp, stinging intervals. My forearms and biceps feel bruised. I swear there’s a knife buried between my shoulder blades.

  I’m twenty-four years old. Right now, I feel like I’m sixty-four.

  I’m no stranger to pain. My chosen profession as a CrossFit Games athlete forces me not only to make pain a habit but to find new and creative ways in which to experience it. I’ve been here before. And I don’t mind it. It’s my life’s work to be here—at the “ultimate proving grounds for the fittest athletes on Earth.”