The pain is a FEATURE, not a BUG.
In my early 30's I did a triathlon that started in a torrential rain storm. Five minutes into the bike portion, the road was covered in puddles, which shortly sent me skittering into a ditch with road rash all over my back and a banged-up wheel. By the time I pulled myself together, I was far back from contention and looking at a year of hard work and training getting washed away by the storm. In a panic, I pushed hard on the bike and, in the run, was redlined the whole way. My heart rate monitor data showed I was near 190 bpm for 75 minutes straight. I staggered across the finish line and collapsed from exhaustion. Laying on my back at the line, I could not find the strength to turn my head, and I seriously thought I would drown in my own vomit. Race officials got me rolled over and to the hospital. For the next 24 hours, I was in the emergency room trying to regulate my stomach, body temp, electrolytes, and dehydration. I found my limit, a place I have never been since, and I never want to go again.
As a CrossFit coach, I smile when the new guy tells me he cannot wait to get in shape so that his workouts don't hurt so bad. Perhaps, yes, when you first start out, they do indeed hurt differently; blisters happen fast on soft hands and you are more likely to be sore on the day following. The lack of fitness means that the end comes sooner. But in the last ten years doing functional fitness workouts of every variety, I can say for certain the discomfort does not ever go away.
We have all hit that wall in the middle of a slog of a workout. Sometimes it is the heat, your upset stomach, the heavyweight, or simply having no gas in the tank. You question why you are doing the workout and look around, wondering why everyone else seems to have it together.
This weekend I hit that wall in my workout. Everyone else was two rounds ahead of me. The oppressive heat had me pouring ice water over my head; the exhaustion had me hanging on my sorts doubled over, trying to catch my breath. Pukie kept threatening to show up, and my wobbly legs simply did not want to cooperate as I looked at the bar for the next set of deadlifts. I was in a dark place, wondering how that simple program on the board could wreck me so completely.
If it ever did stop hurting, I would miss out on a significant reason for doing the workout. Similar to the ice bath, there is something significant that happens when pushing through barriers. I often find that I am not as close to the edge as I thought and there is growth that happens by simply pressing on.
So what is different about the discomfort for a guy after hundreds of workouts? A confidence that comes with knowing your ability to handle the discomfort. Understanding that if you can just climb over that next barrier, you are likely going to find the reserves needed to finish the workout. Self-doubt is less likely to show up as you stop naval gazing and instead focus on the finish line. There is trust in your own ability to handle the next hard thing and simply start on the next set.
To all my athletes looking around wondering if anyone else feels this way, my answer is, Yes, if they are working with enough intensity to be beneficial, others feel like you do. We are not all reveling in schadenfreude, feeling marvelous while you suffer. Not every workout needs to push you to the edge to be beneficial, but part of the reason to work out in a community is that you will get more out of yourself if others are around to push you. There are exceptions to this, but they are few.
Will it ever stop feeling so terrible? Perhaps a little, but not because it hurts less. The ability to package that discomfort and set it aside is a skill that is learned. And it takes consistent effort. Like fitness, your ability to manage the discomfort and keep pushing down barriers is a skill that is quickly lost. A fellow coach tells his athletes regularly to "get comfortable being uncomfortable." That sounds like a tagline that will attract the masses to CrossFit.