CrossFit has brought terms like "clean," "jerk," "snatch," and "deadlift" into mainstream fitness vocabulary, but these names aren’t just random jargon. Each carries a history as rich as the movements themselves. Let’s unravel the origins of these lifts—no technical expertise required.
Let’s start with the simplest yet most primal of the bunch: the deadlift. The name itself is refreshingly literal. Imagine lifting a sack of grain, a crate, or even (as grim as it sounds) a fallen comrade on a battlefield. You’re hoisting a “dead” weight—an inert object—straight off the ground. This straightforward action has existed since humans first needed to move heavy things.
Ancient civilizations likely practiced early versions of deadlifts, though they didn’t call them that. Greek legends tell of strongmen like Bybon, who supposedly lifted a 316-pound stone with one hand around 600 B.C. Archaeologists even found a boulder inscribed with the boast: “Eumastas lifted me from the ground!” While these feats weren’t formal exercises, they reflect humanity’s timeless fascination with raw strength.
By the 19th century, the deadlift became a staple of strongman shows. Performers lifted odd objects like barrels or anvils, showcasing brute power. When powerlifting emerged in the mid-1900s, the deadlift earned its place as one of the “Big Three” lifts alongside squats and bench presses. Today, it’s celebrated not just for building muscle but for symbolizing our innate ability to overcome resistance—literally and metaphorically.
The clean and jerk sounds like a dance move, but it’s actually a two-part Olympic lift. The “clean” involves hoisting a barbell from the floor to shoulder height, while the “jerk” propels it overhead. Let’s break down the theatrics behind these names.
The clean refers to the lifter’s ability to move the barbell smoothly from the ground to the shoulders without letting it rest on the collarbones. Imagine “cleaning” your room by swiftly organizing clutter—except here, you’re maneuvering a heavy barbell into a controlled position. The term likely evolved from early 20th-century weightlifting, where precision mattered as much as strength.
In the 1930s, lifters like Larry Barnholth refined the “squat clean,” dropping under the bar to catch it lower, which allowed heavier lifts. This technical finesse turned the clean into a hallmark of Olympic weightlifting, demanding both power and grace.
The jerk isn’t about frustration—it’s about explosive upward drive. After cleaning the bar to the shoulders, lifters “jerk” it overhead by dipping slightly at the knees and thrusting upward. The term captures the sudden, forceful motion needed to lock the barbell in place. Think of shaking a stubborn ketchup bottle: that quick, sharp movement is the essence of the jerk.
This lift became a crowd favorite in early Olympic Games (it debuted in 1896!), where athletes combined raw power with split-second timing. The jerk’s name stuck because it perfectly describes the decisive burst required to conquer gravity.
If the clean and jerk are a two-act play, the snatch is a sprint. This Olympic lift requires launching the barbell from the floor to overhead in one fluid motion. The name? It’s all about speed.
Picture a thief grabbing a purse and bolting—except here, the “thief” is the lifter snatching the bar skyward before dropping into a squat to catch it. The term emerged in the early 1900s to distinguish the lift’s rapid, single-motion style from slower, segmented techniques.
Originally, lifters used a “split snatch,” landing in a lunge position. But after World War II, the “squat snatch” took over, allowing athletes to catch the bar lower and lift heavier weights. The snatch’s name endures because it encapsulates the quick, decisive action needed to master it—like snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.
While CrossFit’s foundational lifts like the clean, jerk, snatch, and deadlift have deep historical roots, the sport has also popularized newer movements with equally intriguing names. Two standout examples—thrusters and burpees—blend modern innovation with functional intensity. Let’s explore how these exercises earned their spots in CrossFit lore.
The thruster is a quintessential CrossFit movement, though its name isn’t centuries old. Coined by CrossFit itself in 2001, the thruster combines a front squat with a push press, creating a seamless transition from legs to overhead. The term “thruster” evokes the explosive thrust required to drive the barbell upward—a fusion of raw power and technical precision.
This movement exemplifies CrossFit’s philosophy of blending strength and conditioning. By merging two classic lifts, thrusters demand cardiovascular stamina and full-body coordination. The name reflects its purpose: to thrust weight efficiently, maximizing metabolic output.
The burpee predates CrossFit but has become a hallmark of its high-intensity workouts. Named after physiologist Royal H. Burpee, the exercise originated in 1939 as a simple four-step fitness test to assess agility and heart health. Burpee never intended it to be done in grueling, high-volume sets—his granddaughter jokes he’d “roll over in his grave” seeing today’s endless rep schemes.
CrossFit adopted burpees for their brutal efficiency. Dropping to a plank, jumping back up, and launching airborne works nearly every muscle while spiking the heart rate. The name stuck not just because of its creator, but because it captures the exercise’s no-nonsense, all-in effort—like “burrowing” through fatigue.
Including thrusters and burpees in the CrossFit lexicon highlights the sport’s blend of old and new:
• Thrusters showcase CrossFit’s knack for reinventing classic lifts.
• Burpees bridge historical fitness testing to modern metabolic conditioning.
Together, they underscore how CrossFit’s exercise names—whether ancient or modern—reflect functionality, intensity, and a touch of creativity.
The next time you hear “clean,” “jerk,” “snatch,” “deadlift,” “burpee,” or “thruster” remember: these aren’t just exercises. They’re linguistic time capsules, preserving centuries of athletic evolution. Whether you’re hoisting a barbell or a backpack, you’re participating in a tradition as old as humanity itself—one rep at a time.