100 in 100: Betty Lee-Day 38

Betty Lee didn’t come to Prototype to become someone new. She came to get someone back.

Before Covid, she had it dialed — a balanced work-and-workout rhythm, a love of group classes, a boxing community where she felt, in her words, healthy and happy. She’d survived a lot to build it. A move to Massachusetts at twenty-two to work with kids on the Autism spectrum, weekends at Banana Republic to make rent, the whole terrifying thrill of can I really do this on my own? Then marriage to Rath, a move to the Bay Area, and a move back home to Westborough after her son Ben was born. By 2023 she was a wife and a mom of two, and the fit, steady version of herself felt like a person she used to know.

Covid took the routine. When her old gym announced it wouldn’t reopen, she went all-in as a home-gym rat — barbells in the garage, the workout posted online, easy enough. Except it wasn’t. Weeks turned into months of training alone, and the motivation and self-discipline she’d always counted on quietly ran dry.

So in September 2023 she walked into Prototype completely fed up — and completely intimidated. She’d told herself for years that CrossFit was “scary and hardcore, so not my thing.” She was still half a newbie. Everyone looked so fit and lifted so heavy. What she was actually hoping for was simple: consistency, accountability, and the old Betty back in the mirror.

Here’s what surprised her. She never got the old Betty back. She got a better one.

Somewhere in the showing-up — five, sometimes six days a week — she stopped measuring herself against a pre-Covid photo and started measuring herself against yesterday. The credit, she’ll tell you, goes to her people: the 4pm Crew.

Shana , Marybeth , Sandy, Shellie and Beth — with Shreeja and Devon rounding things out, and Mark Dobay good-naturedly putting up with all of them as Betty’s hip-thrust partner. These are the women who show up at the same hour she does and remind her to “do what brings joy.” They’re the ones who taught her that progress isn’t supposed to look the same at every phase of life — that patience and grace count as strength too.

If you want the moment it crystallized, it’s the Prototype Open, workout 26.3. Betty dreaded it all day. Why a sixteen-minute cap and not twelve? Is there an end to this thing? I freaking hate thrusters. When the clock ran out she was overwhelmed, and the tears came — because it was genuinely that hard, and because she’d done it anyway.

These days Betty doesn’t just tolerate the things that scared her — she’s built her weekend around them. Saturday partner workouts she used to skip (too much running, not heavy enough, and frankly a little scared of Coach Garret) are now non-negotiable. The barbell she once only touched as dumbbells has become a whole vocabulary — a hip thrust that’s climbed from 225 to 375 pounds, a front squat that’s nearly doubled, a deadlift up to 255. And she credits a coaching staff — BZ, G-Man, Gill and Tony among her favorites — who know how to push her while respecting her limits.

Maybe the part that gets her most: the next generation is already in the building. Betty gets to watch her own kids, Ben and Lainey, learn the same things she’s learning. Lainey trains at Prototype on an individualized program with Coach Steve — and this past season she and Ella, a teammate and training partner who also trains here, were standout players for Westborough High soccer. Betty’s grateful to Steve and to Jack, one of our junior coaches, for teaching them the right habits — and that recovery is part of the work, not a break from it.

Betty’s daughter Lainey with her teammate and training partner Ella, after one of Prototype’s 24 Heroes in 24 Hours workouts.

Betty said it better than I could, so I’ll let her close: “Nobody starts being great, but greatness happens when you push yourself to be better. Just show up and give yourself a chance.”

“I came to Prototype looking for my old self, but I discovered a new me — with people who teach me to give myself patience and grace.”

Betty is one of those members who makes the whole 4pm hour better just by being in it. When she walked in, she was chasing a version of herself that lived in a pre-Covid photo — and I get it, we all have that photo. But what I’ve watched her build over the last three years isn’t a copy of the old Betty. It’s something sturdier: a woman who shows up five and six days a week, who hip thrusts 375 pounds, who cried through 26.3 and finished it anyway, and who’s now teaching her own kids that this is just what we do.

She came here looking backward. She ended up building forward. Betty, thank you for letting us be your gym — the 4pm Crew wouldn’t be the same without you.

— Mike

If you’re someone who lost your fitness rhythm somewhere in the last few years — and quietly assumes a place like this isn’t for “someone like you” — this story is for you. Betty thought the same thing. Now she can’t start her weekend without it.

A note on how this was made: Betty shared her story in her own words. We used AI tools to help organize and shape the writing, but every detail, quote, and milestone here is hers — drawn from her interview and her training history at Prototype.