You probably won’t find a better definition of fitness than the one laid out by Crossfit. The reason being that when Glassman was in the process of putting together the information and techniques that would become Crossfit, he found—to his surprise—that none of the experts actually agreed on what fitness was. With all the advice the sports and medical community dispenses, you’d think they’d agree on what fitness is, but they don’t. There are no universal standards, measurements, or methodologies for measuring fitness.
There are individual tests prescribed for certain benchmarks, but many of them have nothing to do with fitness. For example, VO2-max is a measure of how much oxygen you consume while exercising, up to your maximum possible uptake. That’s a direct measure of performance, right? Not exactly. Your VO2-max is mostly determined by genetics, and while it can be slightly increased through training, mostly what training does is enable the rest of your body to keep up with your cardiovascular system.
It also isn’t a particularly good predictor of actual performance, especially in another sport. Lance Armstrong supposedly has one of the highest VO2-max measurements ever recorded. He has shown repeatedly that he can kick just about anyone’s ass on a bike, but the first time he tried running long distance, he dropped out of a marathon that 70 and 80 year olds have finished.
Glassman’s initial work on codifying what fitness was done about 20 years ago, and we still don’t have any kind of a consensus in the sports or medical community on how to define fitness. Glassman’s 10 points of evaluation listed in the General Physical Skills sidebar on the fourth page of that PDF represent the best rubric I’ve seen so far. I think that a well-rounded athlete would ideally have close to a round radar chart if you plotted those assessment points.
There are always going to be physical tasks that you’re naturally bad or good at, due to genetics, and some things that you’ll succeed or fail at because of your psychological makeup. Training can help you reach your genetic potential, which could be quite a bit better than you think. Every athlete has weaknesses, and addressing those deficiencies not only makes them more fit, it often helps performance in other areas; there are synergistic effects.
No one is going to be either good or bad at everything. No definition of fitness should rest on inherent traits like reaction time, or factors that do not respond readily to training, like VO2-max, as I mentioned earlier. Fitness should always be defined by factors that can change with training, otherwise you’re not measuring fitness, you’re recording individual variations in physiology.
Any definition of fitness that ignores several of those 10 assessments is, in my opinion, incomplete. There are immensely strong guys in powerlifting who get winded walking from the parking lot to the lifting platform, and who are very inflexible outside the narrow range of motion needed for their lifts. They are not fit. They are undeniably strong, but they are not fit. There are long-distance runners who don’t have enough of a vertical leap to skip steps on a staircase, and most of them have chronic injuries. They are not fit either.
Overly-narrow definitions of fitness are useless. Specific training can lead to great performance in one domain at the expense of the others, and often at the expense of some aspect of health. Even if you don’t drink the CrossFit kool-aid, I think everyone would agree that someone who performs well at multiple sports and other physical pursuits, including manual labor, is probably more fit than someone who excels at only a single sport. Marathon runners probably can’t split and stack a cord of wood. Powerlifters probably can’t go on a hike in the mountains.