HELL WEEK 2012. DONE.

Congratulations! Some great reading here. Although this time I was an armchair general, I'm in for next time we do this... Who wants to do it again this week?

Holy shit Augie. How am I supposed to follow that? Seriously - that was phenomenal. Uh, so, Hell week is over and it's Monday and I still feel tired, I still feel in awe and I still feel pretty humbled to have been a part of it. I don't mean to sound hyperbolic or to give undue importance to innately "meaningless" events, but this was a pretty serious week for me. Like Traver said, on the surface, this was a week of hard workouts that made everybody sore and cranky. But bodies are resilient and if you cover your basic mechanical bases and keep feeding them, they can operate more or less on autopilot. That is, of course, provided you stay out of your own way. And that's the sticking point, really, because staying out of your own way is not easy (at least, not when you talk to yourself as much as I do). When you dig down to that other level - to that plane wherein a person decides what they can and cannot do, based on whatever rational or irrational cognitive data they have on hand - that's where you really find "the stuff" of what makes Hell Week hard. For me that looked like the constant mental reminder that I've only been doing this stuff for 7 months. On Tuesday, it took the shape of a pit forming in my stomach when I read the words, "rope climbs" and reminded myself I'd never done those before. Wednesday's 95lb Power Cleans gave me a hell of a fight before I'd even touched so much as a plate, because my brain got stuck in the churn cycle of reflecting over my only recorded Power Clean experience - an afternoon in March spent practicing PCs with the 45lb bar. And so the highlight - the takeaway, if you will - was the persistent practice of just seeing what happened if I kept going. I have a knack for exhaustively over-analyzing every facet of every single thing ever, and this week was a crash course in setting that aside and letting the momentum of the work and of the group carry me as far as it could. And it turns out, that was pretty fucking far. It turns out, it was the whole damn way. So, favorite part? Geez, I'm not sure I have one. But I'll tell you what - by Thursday night, my abs were looking pretty bangin' - and that's just fine by me.

Kristiana you said it so well! Congrats to all of you - it has been entertaining to read your blogs - thanks for sharing and doing such an awesome week of workouts!

So proud of you guys!! Awesome job! I'm a little jealous I didn't come out this year. But, if anything can inspire me to get back on the horse, it's all of you. You're my role models!

First off, congratulations to everyone who participated, you guys did an amazing job. This was most definitely a fun experience, I wasn't able to participate in the last two Hell Weeks because of injuries, however the first two workouts were tough for me, due to lack of sleep. As most of you know my second job has me occasionally working odd hours, and being off my sleep schedule really hurt my performance early on, especially working from Midnight to 8am on Tuesday morning and then having to come in almost 12 hours later and do "RJ", what I think was probably the hardest workout of the week, I can't remember another time where I've felt so drained. Fortunately, I got back on track later in the week and maintained till Friday. Some of my favorite moments: -Campbells face when he saw there were Handstand Push Ups in Mondays workout. -Campbells face when he saw there were 100 Wallballs in Mondays workout. -When Eric subbed sit-ups for push-ups on Wednesday because we'd just completed 250 of them the night before. (Thanks buddy) -Daily mobility sessions the following day at 1pm, now if only I could get that kind of crowd on Saturday mornings. Either way it was just nice to see people taking the time to prep. -Watching the ladies kick some serious ass on the rope climbs on Tuesday night. -Seeing Sarah bang out 50 Rx pull-ups on Monday, like she'd been doing it her whole life. (She won't tell you this but she only started doing Rx pull-ups a week or two ago) -Seeing everyone push through the DB Squat Cleans on the last round of Friday nights workout. You could taste the determination. Once again, great job crew, I'm looking forward to next years Hell Week.

In almost 2 years at CPC I've never worked out in the evening, so it was awesome to tackle this challenge with a whole new group of people, who to this point have only been names on the board. By messing up my routine, it also brought me out of my comfort zone which I definitely needed. Each night there seemed to be a moment that defined persistance, whether it was Evans and his double unders, Ana and her rope climb, or the internal BOE that Augie referenced, and witnessing that over and over again was inspiring. The worst parts, rope burn, not finishing the last workout with everyone, and of course not getting a backrub from Augie. Congrats to everyone who met this challenge head on, what a week it was.

I'd just like to take a moment to not only congratulate ALL OF YOU who completed/started/thought about doing Hell Week, but to also thank you. It's so humbling to see how far the human spirit can be pushed through physical endeavors, and you're all inspiration to the rest of us. Through this week, you raised the bar and showed through action what all of us (whether we're in the infancy or teenage stages of our Crossfit careers) can be if we put our minds to it. I hope that everyone finds a renewed vigor in their training, and that those of you who survived get some solid rest in this week :)

Reflections on Hell Week (in no particular order) I had never before done more than three consecutive days of workouts, so the fourth and fifth days were new territory. I was sore pretty much the whole week starting Tuesday morning, but the soreness did not affect my performance. By far the biggest challenges were mental. I am durable. Looking back, over three years of Crossfit I think I have failed to complete a WOD maybe only twice. If I could get through Hell Week, I can get through most anything. Pier to Peak, here I come! Working out intensely so late in the evening absolutely wrecks my sleep. I only slept well on two nights, and that was because of their cumulative exhaustion from the several preceding sleepless nights. I did not have much of an appetite in the evening, although I was hungry. Weird combination. I tried to not eat late at night, but compensated by eating large lunches. I did drink a little more than normal each evening, however. This past weekend I more or less ate and drank everything in sight. As I write this, I am probably two or three pounds over where I was at the beginning of Hell Week, which in turn was a few pounds heavier than my target weight. I found myself more apprehensive about each day’s workout, having so much time to think about it all day, instead of my normal practice of waking up when the alarm goes off, checking the iPad, and knowing the WOD all within the first three or four minutes of the day. I prefer showing up essentially brain dead in the morning. Too much thinking is the enemy of a WOD. Just starting moving and let your lizard brain take over. I am more flexible for sure in the evening. Being left on my own to warm up meant I didn’t do that much warm up, although that was probably partly related to the fact that these were all chipper WOD’s with built-in warm up element in almost all of them. Had we done Fran or Grace, I would have needed to warm up more. The camaraderie of Hell Week was truly awesome. One of the things I’ve always liked about Crossfit is the camaraderie, but it went to new heights with about 20 of us showing up every day and going through these difficult workouts together. It was particularly nice for me, as 6 a.m.’er, to work out for people whose paths I don’t normally cross. Favorite moments? Watching Anna, Sarah, and Amber struggle but ultimately succeed on their rope climbs during RJ. Can’t wait for next year! Claw

I spend a lot of time (a lifetime actually) seeking and then writing about ‘the abyss’. It usually takes a long unconditioned, physical slog for me to get me to an abyssal point (a point in an effort where I am acutely balanced between taking the next step and simply giving up.) It is generally hard for me to get to that point because I can usually always find one more step (particularly if Fielding is with wild eyed intensity four inches from my face spewing invective regarding my need to put that next foot forward) but sometimes, when I have extended all of my physical resources, mental reserves and Fielding has moved onto someone else, I get to a place that is balanced on a knife edge of moving forward or...stopping. I enter a very contemplative and weird place in my head where normal physics no longer apply...some type of Bose Einstein Condensate (I promised myself that I would find a way to use that term at least twice in an article this week.) where I debate with myself fundamental questions regarding my soul, my will, and my desire to live and fight again. While this is in real time, it seems like the pondering goes on for hours as time becomes very un-linear on the edge of the abyss. During hell week, I got to that place on the 23rd rope climb. I stood leg wrapped and two thirds of the way up the rope staring at the cross beam that I had to touch not 12 inches from my outstretched hand. The abyss. I simply could not find the impulse that would get me 12 freaking inches farther up that rope and suddenly, I was in the BOE with all thought cross wiring and fanning out new connections... Thinking about my sister’s Easter Seal’s job and how she has done the same thing for 30 years. About my first dog Lovie and his joy at finding an errant sunbeam on the family room rug. About India’s relationship with Pakistan and how it might evolve in the next 50 years with China’s growing influence. About the Silver Ball pinball palace on Telegraph Ave in Berkeley and the thrill of electricity when I made to game pop. About hemp in general and why with all the technological advances, hawsers of it are still used to tie up ships of the line to docks around the world...all these thoughts coalescing with millions more pouring in during the few seconds I pondered the Abyss 12 inches below that beam on a dark CrossFit hell week evening. And then somewhere deep in a splintered mammalian node of hind brain, a single neuron relay clicks, and an unconscious decision is made for me to unclench my hands and move them up for a final push. Time once again re-starts it’s inexorable march toward infinity. I don’t really remember # 24 or #25(as they paraphrasedly say in Hoosiers, ‘After what those hands did on #23, it would have taken the Indiana National Guard to prevent them from finishing!’. But suffice to say, that a BOE is always lurking in some future wod and I am blessed that I can share it with my wonderful gym brothers and sisters. Thanks for the amazing week of programming and for the opportunity to tilt! Much love Aug p.s. I wrote the rowing piece below about 10 years that reminded me of last week’s rope climb in the intensity of the moment...10 years...in an eyeblink. Sigh. The Abyss It starts a few weeks before. I am a little sharper with my kids. My responses to my wife are vague and non-sequiter. I am waking up at the slightest sounds. My game face is on for the coming week's trials. There is not much I control in my life. I cannot control interest rates, the stock market my loan officer or our barking dogs. I have absolutely no say in our house remodel (ok, I do get to pick the television), my son's hairstyle, the increase in gasoline prices or the decrease in my hair follicles. About the only thing within my grasp, lies 1000 meters down lane three at the 2003 US Masters Nationals at Lake Natoma. The flag is up and the hands are down. READY ALL,....and the infinite pause. Here I am surrounded by keyed up athletes, like lathered horses waiting for the gates to open. Yet, the solitude and white-noise is surprising. I watch the sweat dripping from my nose onto the footboards. I can hear the skritchy creak of oars squaring in their oarlocks and the raspy squeal of the runners drying in the midday heat. My guts are twisted and I fear more than the pain. I fear a lifetime of losses. I fear weakness. I fear failure. I fear looking into the abyss and not liking what I see. I fear my mortality and the creep of ages. Row! Release!! Unbounded relief from my private purgatory. I am twenty again. Bulletproof and invincible. 250 meters of total, unconfined, full metal jacket output. I am bad and our boat is a rompin', stompin' machine. No one can withstand this assault. Uhh, except the similarly endowed boats in lanes one, four and six. Settling at a 37 and still feeling OK but I surely wouldn't mind if that big orange buoy at the five hundred meter mark slid by in the next couple of strokes. Come to think of it, at his point I might sell my first born to see it in my peripheral vision. How is it possible that the first 250 meters took all of three seconds and the second 250 is taking Sistine Chapel painting time? I mean seriously, there is a time distorting black hole at 499 meters, which shall let no boat pass. I swore an oath to myself that I would not look out of the boat. Oops. I looked. What did I hope to see? A comfortable margin? Separation enough to drop the rate? No chance, dead even. The adrenaline of dread is coursing as a knowing and visceral fear of failure starts to weaken my resolve. To win this race, it is going to hurt and I am scared of the coming pain. The over-caffinated, tremulous Power Twenty comes screeching intermittently through the tinny, crappy speaker from a coxswain who like me, is also running scared. The Power Twenty for me is more like a Power Six and fourteen teeth gritting, look ugly for the camera survival strokes where you pray the rest of the boat doesn't feel the significant power lag coming from the four seat. I can almost see the coxswain heeling hard on the port rudder to make up for my failure in fortitude. Whatever loans I took out in the first two-fifty are coming due at seven hundred. Finally. I have reached the abyss. That place where all rowers go that decides the outcome of the journey. It is a divine opportunity afforded me to control some small modicum of my life. I either step up to the plate or slowly fade into the coulda, woulda, shoulda of the second through sixth beep across the line. This place, somewhere in the void of rowing's end game, is a place stripped clean of pretense. A place where I must face myself and see my measure for what it is. I have yet to find a substitute for its humbling nature or spirit-forging characteristics. For any rower that gets to this spot, an amazing thing happens. Once your fear is faced, it falls away and with it, some of the self imposed, survival-of-the-organism fatigue. What is left is raw and righteous. It is the power of the mind, pure will unfettered by basal physical instinct. A place I can never reach in my kid rearing, dog walking, beer and remote holding, life insurance selling, mortgage paying life. Up in two strokes for ten, visual graying in the periphery, wall of noise on the port side, getting late and chopping the catch, glutes seizing hard. Up two more. Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together, please lord don't let me crab. Ten strokes to go. Sell the store. Three beeps in quick succession across the finish line. Who won? Too close. No one knows. Collapse. I don't have any secretes to life and happiness. I am no sage of rowing nor am I blessed with uncommon talents or physique. My life only allows me ten days of water time per year and the lumbar disk and knee cartilage I had removed are constant reminders of my advancing years. But at least for this moment, I am given the opportunity to rediscover the joy of overcoming fear. The wisdom in self-honesty. The respect for spirit that conquers the mortal pleadings of the flesh. rowing is humbling in defeat and oh so glorious in victory. It matters not if it's the Olympics, Masters National or Wednesday erg and beer night. My wife is sleeping quietly beside me now and we touch in points. She is glad that I have tilted at my windmills and come home unscathed. The boys and our dog are splayed across the floor snoring gently, awaiting morning pancakes and tales of adventures and battles won. I stare at the ceiling in the dark as the sweat drips onto my footboards. The silence. I never expect it.

This year definitely brought me back to high school hell week when life seemed to evolve around nothing but the training. Everything else in life seems more like a distraction from the fatigue and soreness or an opportunity to rest. My favorite moments were numerous, but here's a few that come to mind immediately: Everybody cheering with emotionally invested screams as Anna attempted to get to the top of the rope on her last round of "RJ" Looking at everybody's faces right before we announced the WOD nightly. It can only be described as a cross between "deer in headlights" to "kid who just got caught doing something really bad" Hoping and waiting for Traver to slow down on the Chief so I could take a F@#$@#n break from chasing him. Witnessing people push through noticeable pain and extreme discomfort on the very last 20 DB Squat Cleans to complete the very last WOD. The only downside was that I didn't get a shoulder massage from Auggie :-(

A few favorite moments: Mon- 6:45pm, everyone has shown up and is excited and you could just feel the energy pulsing through everyone in the room. Tues- first round of rope climbs, we have formed lines and are taking turns. For as chaotic as this could have been we were all working together cheering one another on in an orderly fashion. *Another fav moment for this night was when I got home to shower, I forgot to wash my hair... so back in I went... then I got out and rememebed that I forgot to use soap...and back in I went again. 3rd time around and I finally got it right. - Open gym time rolling out and stretching all week with Campbell, Anna, Sarah, Fielding, and Baker. Trying to figure out the wod logically... and emotionally :) - Becky, Gigi, & Jill, cheering us on night after night! - Staring around the room on Wed night and noticing how ripped all the guys are. Holy smokes! - Finally seeing Baker get nervous on Fri night right before the wod- blood draning from his face. - Watching Amber and Sarah knock out 20 chest to bar pull ups! - Augie's massage post Fri night wod

Definitely not a favorite, but my "acha" moment was seeing the damn 200 double unders on Monday's workout and then getting to them during the workout. Although as Traver alluded I likely won't remember my time long term, I will no doubt remember that the DUs took longer than the entire rest of the workout combined. It took a lot of stubbornness not to toss that F$$$ing rope to the floor and give up. From that moment (after the dizziness went away) I vowed to attack the rest of the week's WODs and the skill of DUs with a new determination. Awesome week of programming and hella perseverance from everyone, especially Mac. I am not sure I could have done the lumberjack solo.