Friday, June 28, 2013

2013 Death Race recap. Part III (of 3): Leave It to Me To Be The First To Almost Actually Die At The Death Race

Reservoir punishment. Photo Pittsfield General Store.

"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." 
-Neale Donald Walsch
The swim was a 1 mile loop that went nearly across the reservoir and back. Lifejackets were mandatory for all racers, which turned out to be an epic source of chafe for many of us. Personally, I enjoyed the swim. Being able to move in the water made it seem much less frigid, despite the fact that my body temperature had dropped significantly before the swim commenced. After a second mile loop, each racer spun a wheel to determine their fate: another swimming lap, permission to head back to Pittsfield, or a DSQ. I was fortunate enough to be able to return to Pittsfield without a third mile- at this time I was also informed that my punishment had still not been served: I would have to return the long way back over Bloodroot Mountain. After changing into dry clothes, I knew Stacie would soon be handed the same fate, so after she changed and packed up we were off to Bloodroot. It was at this point in the race that I had real doubt that I could finish the race. The last I had heard, the next cutoff would be in Pittsfield at 2 pm. Nearly 8am already, I doubted this would be possible. The first few hours of this hike were the most difficult for me: not physically, but wrestling with the idea that I had taken myself out of the event when we took that wrong turn the night before. I know many people like to say that that the Death Race is unfair. Sometimes, it isn’t fair. But this was my own fault. I shouldn’t have lost sight of the group. I had no one else to blame. I tried not to let negative thoughts take over, but they were there. After covering a few of the miles fighting our own self doubt, Stacie and I decided that our only option was to hustle. As we covered the miles through some of the sloppiest, muddy, buggy terrain, our spirits lifted and we both felt confident that the unknown was not to be feared.

Bloodroot Mountain took its toll on many racer's feet.
Photo matt Davis.
We would cover the 20+ miles back to Pittsfield through knee-deep shoe sucking mud, over Bloodroot mountain in the baking sun with 40ish pound packs and swarms of tiny black flies feeding off of us in just about 6.5 hours. The only times we stopped were to access food in our packs and to take care of our feet. Stopping for proper foot care along the trail would pay back huge dividends later in the day when continuous thunderstorms would plague us once again. Afraid of a 2 pm time cutoff, I covered the last 5 miles in a light jog- this would be where Stacie and I would cover the remainder of the race separately. I had no doubt that she would make it without me. 

When we arrived at the next challenge, I learned that the cutoff time was actually 6 pm. Having made the cutoff at only 2:30, things were pretty comfortable. Our challenge was to begin by retrieving 8 logs from a wood pile and split and stack them. The catch: log retrieval required a full submersion through a mud and fertilizer pit under a wall.

That mud was really effective at messing with contact lenses.
Photo Peak Races
After splitting the wood, our ankles would be lashed together and we would have to hop up a steep hill about 1/3 mile to a memorization task that would require correct answered at the bottom. Failure to answer the question correctly meant another trip up the mountain with ankles lashed. Breaking the ankle straps meant beginning back at the wood task. It took a surprisingly long time to hop up the mountain. My calves were shot requiring frequent rest breaks. When I arrived at the top, my contact lenses were so caked in mud that I had to wait for other racers to move away from the board so I could see the tiny writing. I studied the board carefully the "Bones Dice Game”- memorizing every detail from the type of plastic used to hold the notecard and it’s dimensions. On my way back down the mountain, I nearly became the first racer to ever die in the Death Race: certainly not the way I had envisioned my day ending.
More wood splitting. This time I forgot my gloves.
Photo Valerie  Moreno-Hardison.

I must not have noticed the approach of the epic thunderstorm that was about to swallow up the little town of Pittsfield, but when it hit, it was something I will never forget. The winds blew in without warning and the tops of the 125-150 ft. tall pines began violently swaying above me, cracking as they were tossed about by the storm that raged above. With my ankles lashed together, I surveyed the area to see where to go in the event of some kind of trouble. No obvious safe haven jumped out at me. The rains poured down and the wind became more intense until finally I heard the unmistakable crack of a tree somewhere above me that was going to come down. Another racer just above me on the trail yelled for me to get out of the way, but with the driving rain and grit in my eyes I could not distinguish which tree was the biggest danger or in which direction it would soon fall. I dropped one of my walking sticks and scrambled to
Solo still smiling in one of the downpours.
Photo Matt Davis
the downhill side of the largest tree I could find. I hoped that if the tree came down on this one it would be strong enough to remain standing anyway. Within seconds, a large tree above me broke about 50 feet from the ground creating a widowmaker across the trail. A few moments later, the other racer that was with me (I wish I knew his name, but I was too frazzled), started down the trail in the driving rain and wind. I begged him to stay with me for just a few more moments until the storm had passed and the danger was gone. He somewhat reluctantly agreed, if nothing more than to humor me. No more than 10 seconds later, the tree broke a second time and smashed across the trail about 15 feet below us, ironically on top of the walking stick I had abandoned just moments before. 

I clung to the tree for what seemed like a long time before venturing on down the hill. Despite an uncontrollable shake in my left arm, I composed myself long enough to correctly answer the memorization task, gather my gear and head for another 5 mile round trip up to the summit of Joe’s mountain. At the summit of the mountain in Shrek’s (Joe's) cabin was a stove.

We would later be asked questions about the stove to ensure that we had actually made the trip. Despite the monsoon that had now completely overtaken Pittsfield, I snapped a few photos of the stove and returned through a torrent of water as it washed out many of the beautiful landscaped stone stairs we had worked on during the first day and night of the event. I then headed up the road to the iron mine to collect my final set of poker chips- a round trip hike of an additional 6 miles.
View from inside the iron Mine. Photo Peak Races.
I believe there was another time cutoff here at the mine at 10 pm. I arrived around 8 pm or so, but felt good and continued to move at a steady slow jog regardless. 

The final task of the day was to return to Riverside farm where we would endure poker PT. Poker PT required each athlete to select a card from a deck of cards and then complete the exercise indicated by the number on the playing card. For example, and Ace was 100 cartwheels (I remember that clearly because I got that one twice), other exercises included a 5 minute plank, 100 squats, 50 flip-flops, 50 Turkish get-ups, 100 bent knee sit v-ups, a bear crawl, a swim in a cold pond, 500 jumping jacks, hill repeats, and others that I can’t possibly recall. A PT session was concluded when 13 cards had been drawn and exercises completed. I am not sure how long this all took, probably nearly 1.5-2 hours or so. 
Amelia and I after finishing up the final challenge. Four women in the top 10 finishers, proud to represent the ladies! Photo Matt Davis

At 10:30(ish) I completed my PT session and was told to return in the morning at 6 am to the casino with my tuxedo for poker. This was about 62 hours from when my journey had begun and I was ready for bed. Ironically, I had felt great until the second set of cartwheels, somewhere in the middle of my PT session. Somehow, the cartwheel managed to hurt everywhere: from my hands to my toes. At the hotel, I attempted to shower, but found no hot water in the shower at the hotel, so I slept anyway. I felt kinda horrible about what the pillow looked like in the morning when I got up. Oops.
My apologies to housekeeping at the Swiss Farm Inn.

The casino was a bit of a circus. Those of us who had collected poker chips at every challenge were sent into the casino one by one first to play a game of hi-lo against the dealer. After losing 5
Waiting outside the casino to see what was to come next.
 Photo Courtney DeSena
consecutive games of hi-lo at the the barbed wire crawl, I was pretty sure this one was rigged too. While I lost my first chip (my yellow chip from the swim) to dealer Chris Davis on my first try, I beat him handedly in an all or nothing second round to collect my finishers skull. 

In the days since the race I have heard all sorts of confusion about what went on in that casino. Evidently, there were some dirty dealers. I don’t know. What I do know is that this weekend delivered all that was promised. Once again, Spartan Death Race, you forced me to look beyond what I see everyday and into the depths of the human condition. Well played, sirs.

Gotta love Amelia's tux. The top hat was a nice touch.

I conclude this post with another from fellow Death Racer Will Bowden.

Life changes...evolves. I was reminded of this concept several times during the race. It comes to, and all situations therein, are as simplistic or complicated as we allow or want them to be. We can stop, pause or break...or we can decide to push on, when circumstances appear unbearable and impossible. For, there is always a way...if we want it. 

But, there is no shame in coming face to face with a boundary and choosing not to cross it. Showing up is amazing all in itself. 

This race was the epitome of life. For life, is not smooth, nor planned. it is how we respond that tells all. There are those who will understand, those who will eventually learn and those who (unfortunately) will never get it. 

This race was a game changer for me. Any situation that brings you to your mental or physical boundaries (or both) and allows you to decide if you want to hold short or cross them and create a new boundary will always change the core of your being. The Death Race did just that. 

Life is awesome...always. I will always remember the power of a smile as I continue this journey. 

"I'm pretty tired... I think I'll go home now."- Forrest Gump

Ready for a nap. Who could ask for a better crew? Photo Christian Hrab

Death Race 2013. Part II (of 3): Chillin' at Chittenden Reservoir

Chittenden reservoir in the early AM. Photo credit Peak Races

As the 8 pm cutoff came and went, we lined up to prepare for our hike to Chittenden reservoir over Bloodroot mountain. I had been over Bloodroot once before in the 2012 summer Death Race and recalled that it was a long (20+ miles), tedious hike that followed the Long Trail for much of the distance. Embarrassed that my original rock had been smashed to pieces, I hastily grabbed a stone from the driveway at the farm and lined up with the other athletes. Joe carefully inspected each racer’s rock and gave me the hairy eyeball as he inspected mine, which was clearly too small. I admitted that I had just grabbed a new rock because my original rock had been crushed in the barbed wire crawl and agreed to get a larger one before departing. As the group began to depart from Riverside Farm, I found myself scrambling along the roadside for larger rock that would not be inadequate for the task. I grabbed a large, heavy chunk of quartz from the hillside, got it checked and headed off with the first part of the group departing.
Racers headed off to Chittenden with rocks. I can identify Amelia, PJ, Don and Ken amongst the group.
 Photo Peak Races.

As the hundred or so remaining racers headed off into the night, I tried to find a comfortable position to carry my new rock in. It had no rough edges to grab on to, and was smooth and round from years in the riverbed. I tried to use webbing to secure it somehow in front of me, which was futile with a smooth, round rock, especially now that it had begun to rain. As I struggled to find some way to carry the rock, a small group splintered off the front of the pack and their headlamps disappeared in the far distance. My friend Stacie and I decided that we didn’t need to travel at the blistering pace of the lead group anyhow and settled into a comfortable fast hike. As we arrived at what appeared to be the end of the dirt road, an old man stopped us for 50 push ups with our packs on and directed us to a trail that followed the river. Shortly thereafter, we came to a to a trail junction. To the right was what appeared to be an old road- to the left a trail through the long grass with a sign marked “Chittenden reservior”. We headed up the trail towards Chittenden and soon found more pink streaming flagging tape, providing confirmation that we were headed on the correct trail toward Bloodroot. I vaguely recognized the trail from the summer before, but the fog and driving rain in the darkness of the night made it difficult. I continued to struggle to find some way to carry my rock. It was wet and kept sliding down my arms, forcing me to use my forearms to support much of the weight. At one point, I stopped and put the rock in my pack. It seemed like the only way that I was going to be able to get to the reservoir without leaving it behind. Oddly, as I resumed hiking with the rock in my pack, a weird sensation overtook me that I could not ignore. I began to wonder: why am I here? If I am here to complete this race for me and me alone, why do I feel that I need to cut a corner to make this adversity easier? Who cares if no one else knows? I know. And that really is all that matters. I stopped and gathered the rock from my pack and put it back in my arms. 

Shortly after, we were caught by Dan and Brian from behind, and the 4 of use continued on through our second consecutive night through the darkness together. I knew the route to the reservoir would be at least 20 miles, so we determined that we would arrive at the reservoir with less than an hour or so to spare before sunlight. We hustled, hoping to catch some of the stragglers off the group in front of us. We hiked up a mountain, through grassy snowmobile trails and muddy never ending trails, but were not able to catch anyone. I started to wonder if we were going the right way....

The 4 of us continued to follow the pink flagging tape in the fog and darkness for hours, stopping for 2-3 minutes every hour for fuel and electrolytes. After about 15 miles, we did eventually arrive at the reservoir. It was a little before 2 am and there was no sign of anyone else. As we approached the camp at the end of a long driveway, it became clear to me that we we were in the right place, but not at the right time. We had not taken the trail over Bloodroot Mountain as the others all had. Robin and Melissa Crossman came out of their cabin and told us that other groups had also lost some hikers and had doubled back to move as one group.
Stacie and I looking bewildered about something.
This wouldn't be the frist time, nor the last. Photo Chad Weberg.
We must have made our wrong turn before the group doubled back and had gone undetected all of this time. I knew this was not good for us. Not good at all. While the Death Race is not designed to be fair.... no one gets away with finishing a Death Race while having missed 5 miles of extra hiking and Bloodroot Mountain. Worse yet, the next challenge was a swimming challenge, and we would never be allowed to leave without doing it first. Oh, and no swimming before sunrise. The earliest we would be allowed to start our swim would be after 6 am. So what for the next 4 hours? I asked Robin if we could just start doing our burpees now. I figured there would be thousands of them.

Unfortunately, they had a different plan for us. It would involve cold water submersion and lots of it.

While Brian decided to hang it up at this point salvage what was left of his feet at the fire, Dan, Stacie and I were sent to stand in the reservoir. We huddled together in silence for thirty minutes in the water, followed by 50 frozen-calf-wrenching burpees and a 5 minute break. Repeat. As we continued on this cycle, other racers slowly began to filter in.... those who presumably had also become lost and wound up on the same trail as us.
More racers arrive at Chittenden to learn of the burpee/soaking penalty.
Photo Valerie Moreno-Hardison
The group grew larger over time until eventually reaching 18 or so racers by 6 am. While it was utterly amusing to watch, one by one, as the guys fell asleep only to be jolted awake by their swaying bodies, it was also getting pretty chilly after multiple submersions into the water. By my 3rd hour, my lips were as blue as my little fleece hat, my hands and feet shriveled and punky, and my teeth chattered almost uncontrollably (I could stop them if I focused hard enough- which was the basis I used to convince myself that I was not hypothermic). The one saving grace for me was the the intervals seemed to be getting shorter- our last submersion lasted a mere 12 minutes.
One of the last water submersions at Chittenden before the sunrise.
Photo Valerie Moreno-Hardison.
We watched the headlamps of the larger group of racers as they descended towards the reservoir in the darkness. It was sometime around 6 or 7am that we were finally sent up the driveway to fill our backpacks full of stone to bring back to the cabin. We were relieved of our driveway duty and sent to finally move to the next task: the three mile swim.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

2013 Death Race journey Part I (of 3): The Stairway to Heaven

"Hours slide by like minutes. The accumulated clutter of day-to-day existence- the lapses of conscience, the unpaid bills, the bungled opportunities, the dust under the couch, the inescapable prison of your genes- all temporarily forgotten, crowded from your thoughts by an overpowering clarity of purpose and by the seriousness of the task at hand..."- John Krakauer, Into the Wild
The finished stairway to heaven.... Photo Chad Weberg
The first 36 hours...

Heading back to Pittsfield for the Death Race a second time was very different from my trip last summer as a death race rookie. I can’t say that it was easier, or harder, just different. I knew a little better what to expect from Joe and Andy, from myself, and from the experience of being awake and pushing my body for about 3 days without rest. Some of this knowledge gave me solace while some gave me things to worry about that I was oblivious to last year. I came last year to prove something to myself. I wasn’t sure exactly what, but I knew that I needed to be pushed out of my comfort zone and that the Death Race was going to do that. Having now accomplished that and more, I felt I had nothing to prove this year. I came back simply to revisit some of the things I learned about myself and for a chance to reconnect with the death race community that I had grown to love so deeply. 
Michael Mills, the first ever paralyzed DR participant, gets a little help from Steve and Mark Webb. The DR wouldn't be what it is without people like this.

In the weeks leading up to this year’s event, I must have been asked 1,000 times whether or not I was hoping to win again this year. Those who know me or understand this race will believe me when I say that winning the race couldn’t have been further from my mind. In fact, winning the race last year was really an accident. Being the first woman to cross an imaginary finish line, while a nice honor, was never the intention or motivation to do this race. Returning in 2013, it was no more of a motivator than in 2012. I never came to this race to compare myself to anyone else. This one is for me, and I have always seen successful completion of each challenge as the goal. This year, meeting time cutoffs and the threat that only 40 finisher skulls would be available would add a new element of a competition to the challenges. However, the idea of sprinting past a competitor in the final minutes or hours to arrive at the finish first was still never really a motivator. 
Scenic Riverside farm- photo credit Chad Weberg

After taking care of family arrangements on Thursday before the race, Dave and I arrived at Riverside farm early Friday morning. I felt as ready as I could be for what was to come and looked forward to what was in store for the weekend. It was a beautiful sunny morning and the racers were anxious and excited to reconnect and get started. After some of the usual shenanigans of digging, lifting heavy things, chopping and other chores, we were broken into 10 separate teams and assigned a section of trail to move rocks into place to create a stone staircase to the summit of Joe’s mountain (which would make a path about 1 mile long). My team of 20, Team 6, quickly gelled into a fine working crew. Since some of the rocks were upwards of several hundred pounds, we used large metal poles as levers. The poles also served to allow up to 7 of us to share the weight of each stone as we moved them up he hill. The boys named each of the rocks, mostly after women. I worked primarily on digging detail- working to dig out flat surfaces to place the large stones in and help work them into position. The task was arduous and a bit mind numbing. I dug holes, dug them again, and moved rocks with the boys for about 20 hours straight. At one point late into the night, I was even elevated to the status of a “fatherf*cker” (as opposed to mutherf*cker due to my feminine nature). Needless to say, that was quite an honor. We hayed and seeded the entire trail and returned to the summit of Joe’s mountain shortly before sunrise to wait for our next assignment. The early morning sky was spectacular. All of the athletes were told to lay quietly with their headlamps out until given further instruction. While I know many took advantage of this opportunity for a cat nap, I chose remain awake and soak it all in, knowing I would likely never again have the opportunity to revisit this moment.

As the sun rose on Saturday morning, we moved on to more chores. Backpacks full of rocks were moved up bike paths and assembled into piles. Big rocks, crushed rocks, and all sizes in between. Eventually, other remaining athletes were moved down the hill to help move the remaining stone until the job was complete. 
Kelli preparing to take a full load of rocks up from Tweed Dr.

Next task, yep, more rocks. This time, just one. I chose a nice piece of shale from a nearby stream as mine. My rock had a nice shape that was relatively easy to grip without cutting my arms too badly, so I was satisfied. These rocks would stay with us for the next 12 hours or so. We were instructed to follow a path marked with pink and orange flagging tape that was mostly a bushwack hike back to Amee farm with our rock held in front of us. We were instructed not to put it down or carry it on our shoulders or we would face punishment. Those who did were sent to a labor intensive yard work session somewhere up on the mountain.

Upon arrival back to Amee, the next task was wood splitting. Thirty rounds were to be split & stacked and some carried up to a shed across the road. As usual, the farm was utter chaos.
Chaos woodsplitting at Amee. That's me in the orange shirt. Photo Chad Weberg.
Axes flying, latecomers stealing wood from athletes who arrived earlier to avoid splitting the large, knotted rounds left in the pile and mass confusion. Joe and Andy thrive on confusion and I fully expected this to be part of the race. Some were rattled by the confusion, uncertainty and apparent unfairness of it all. I actually made good time on the rounds and found the splitting task a nice break from carrying rocks. Carrying the rounds to the shed in the heat was a challenge, but not unmanageable. 
Bringing loads of wood up to the shed at Amee farm.

Barbed wire- working together with Will and Stacie.

Although it took hours, eventually the wood task was complete and we were sent back up to the top of Tweed Dr. (4 miles maybe). We hiked with our rocks to the barbed wire challenge. The sun was still blazing and I hoped for rain. In retrospect, that was probably a bad idea. Each racer would crawl under a barbed wire maze through a ravine for about 200 yards where they would retrieve a playing card and return back through the barbed wire for a game of hi-lo with the dealer. If you won, you were done. If you lost, back for another card. Of course, I lost every time. Five laps total through the barbed wire, the first two dragging gear and the final three without. While the first two laps were harder because we had to drag our cumbersome packs (we were permitted to put the rock in our packs), the final 3 presented their own challenge because the barbed wire course was now completely jammed with racers. Many would pull the barbed wire over their heads and packs and then release the string of wire to snap back like a tree branch oblivious to the others near them. I have always struggled a tad with claustrophobia when in close quarters with too many people, adding barbed wire certainly heightened that anxiety for me. I tried where I could to be helpful to other racers entering the challenge with their packs, but I also felt a need to hustle through this part of the course to avoid being a barbed wire casualty.

Barbed wire with our inevitably losing playing cards in our teeth.
After the 5 laps were complete, we headed to Riverside farm. There would be an 8 pm cutoff and any time that remained could be used in any way we wanted for those who arrived early. It was 5:30 when we arrived, so I used the time to change and clean and dry out my pack that was completely soaked from the barbed wire fun. While some of the contents of the pack were also soaked (some of my food... boo), most stayed quite dry in ziplocks inside the pack. Sadly, my lovely rock was pulverized inside the pack from being dropped multiple times in the barbed wire ravine. Unfortunately, I would not be smart enough to search for a new one until it was nearly too late...

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Gone camping? Try this workout using nature's gym.

You don't have to be tied to the gym to get a good workout. So go ahead, set yourself free.
In a recent conversation, my friend Tristy mentioned that she was excited to train for her first Reebok Spartan Race but was afraid that her training would be derailed because she has a strong tradition of camping in the summer. In reality, some of the best workouts can be done without a gym, weights or fitness machines. Since many readers have asked for some workout ideas, I thought it was a good time to post a workout that can be completed outdoors without weights or a gym using what is available. Campground workouts can be an absolute blast, particularly those with a scenic spot such as a beach, overlook, or picnic area. I love to do these early in the morning when the campground is quiet and sun is just rising. Mornings are also often a little less conspicuous in a busy campground.

Summertime camping trips with the family are unforgettable.
Stay tuned for another campground workout idea in the coming weeks. Have fun.

Start with a 10-15 min warm up jog. Often this can be a jog from your site to the beach, playground, or whatever spot inspires you.

neutral starting position
1) 50 air squats- remember to lead with your butt, not your knees. In regular English, this means you should imagine that you are beginning to sit in a chair, sticking out your butt, not bending forward. For the appropriate camping analogy, imagine you are about to poop in the woods and you want to keep your shoes clean.

bottom of air squat- shoulders over knees
neutral end position

2) 50 walking lunges- maximize your stride making a 90 degree angle with your front leg, have your back knee just gently brush the ground.

Neutral starting position
Forward knee nearly 90 degrees, back knee gently touches ground.

3) 15 burpees. Need I say more. Burpee any style that works for you. Mix it up if you do variations of the workout on different days.

4) 30 lateral (side to side) jumps. I like to mark out two lines spaced about 3 feet apart to use as a
guide. Starting with both feet at one line, jump up and sideways to the other side. When you land, you can work on your balance by just touching your feet together (variation 1), or you can touch your hand to the ground each time getting the glutes in on the party a little more (variation 2).
starting and landing position (variation 1)

jumping the gap

Landing position of variation 2.

5) 15 push ups- Modification option- start on your knees if you are not ready for full push ups.

6) 30 V- sit ups- legs straight, bring your knees to your extended arms and then bring both back to lying on your back.

7) 1 min plank. If you are new to plank, start with 30 sec if 1 min is too much. If you are more advanced, you can do leg lifts during the minute. A tough one is to bring your knee to your elbow out to the side.
Traditional plank position
Challenging variation: bring knee to elbow keeping back flat and hips down. Hold for 2-3 secs, repeat on opposite side.

8) 20 Rock swings (instead of kettlebell swings). Initiate this exercise with your hips (use them to thrust the weight into the air)- this is not an arm exercise, rather mostly a core and leg. If you can't find a rock, grab a stump, stick, piece of firewood, child's toy, whatever you can.
Starting position. I do recommend opening your eyes though.

From the bottom position, use your hips to thrust the weight upwards, not your shoulders or arms.

making funny faces are optional.

Finish with 10-15 minutes of easy jogging.

I recommend trying this workout as 30 minutes of AMRAP- as many rounds as possible. Minimize the amount of rest as much as you can. AMRAP workouts are great because they allow one workout to be suitable for many fitness levels. As you progress, more repetitions are possible.

One important thing to keep in mind is that it is necessary to keep mixing up your workouts. Just because a workout is great and fun doesn't mean you should keep doing it without making changes. Otherwise, your body will simply adapt to this workout rather than getting stronger over time. A few ideas for this workout to get more mileage might include:

-Instead of AMRAP, take the # of rounds completed and add 50% untimed. For example, if you completed 4 rounds in 30 min AMRAP, try 6 rounds with a little more rest.
-You can also add weight to some of the ex and reduce the number (ex. 30 squats holding a small rock).

If you'd like to see more workout ideas, you can follow me by liking my page on facebook at  as I will be posting more soon. Happy Trails.

Adventure is worthwhile in itself.- Amelia Earhart.