THE AFTER ACTION REPORT

The pain train descended on the proving ground with the unfettered determination of a fully armed and operational battle station; its mission, to prosecute the insidious and elusive enemy that lurks within, to quiet the voice of reason and disbelief, to dispel the notion of capitulation and satisfaction, and to quell the doubt that casts its shadow on the light of our chosen path. The goal of this weekend’s operation was to combine the explosive mental energy with the insatiable appetite for novelty, the product being a fertile stomping ground for burying mental weakness and transcending to higher levels of physical consciousness.

The ante was high as the buy in required letting go of the furry blanket that generally keeps you warm in a cold world. It was necessary to peel back the thin veneer of shiny lacquer that paints a joyful smile on our face and come to terms with what we keep under the hood, exposing our motor to our trustworthy comrades. Finally, if you had the courage to step into the arena with the starving lions then you most likely relinquished the controls to a power that can only be found by employing the proper fuel and fire mixture, an energy charged atmosphere that demands a cyborg-like performance. There would be no winners or losers, only conquistadors....... or lifeless bodies abandoned by their owners.

In a meticulous collaboration we created an architectural blueprint that would scare the demons out of hell and knock the walls down in the gym. Screams could be heard for miles as our ideas gave birth to fruition. We forced the hand of evolution, imposing our will on our minds and bodies, marveling at the new world we discovered but also lamenting its now defunct age and relegation to our memory. For we knew that finding new land would fuel our thirst for more, making one find a significant but small stepping stone to the next. We are conquistadors, mapping and charting the territory within ourselves.

Walking back into CFJAX is like walking onto an old but familiar battlefield, the contour shaped by deep grooves of labor and determination, the walls telling its story like ancient hieroglyphics linking us to a more primitive era. The tools of the trade adorn the perimeter, held together with sweat and rust. Air conditioning and heat are luxuries unoffered to the troglodytes that call this cave home.
We began day one pursuing the most fundamental display of strength, i.e. ground to overhead. Having only gone as high as 225# previously, I made three additional successful attempts sticking 245, 260, and 275. A lack of coaching and general unhappiness with my CNJ form has kept me from going any higher than 225#; even worse, I usually default to push pressing the weight. This day demanded more as it would be unconscionable to muster anything less than my best, i.e. the CFJAX standard. The energy, collaboration, and coaching is not something I could replicate in my lab by myself. This is why I’m here, I thought.

The second wod was perfectly programmed mixing the novelty of the squat clean thruster at a weight I’ve never thrusted with the volatility of the muscle up and the finesse of the double under. Although thrusting 185 was a formidable task, dropping the weight from overhead allowed for rest. The perception of the damage was worse than the damage itself and, after closer analysis, I think blowing through the thrusters and pacing the muscle ups would’ve been a better strategy. After jockeying for position on the muscle ups I wasn’t able to catch Turbo on the double unders and finished six or seven seconds after him.

The second day ushered in a higher level of excitement and anticipation. The cold descended on the battlefield, attacking our bones and spirits alike. Unfortunately the immunity wrought from pure mettle made the natural elements no match for our resolve. The scent of unadulterated human will summoned the warriors from the South who were welcomed to join in the festivities.

The first wod was an unhappy blend of brutality and patience. How do you approach an amrap wod with a known shortcoming? When confronting absolute failure patience is the only solution to facilitate recuperation. Turbo blasted through with 12 rounds, Tanner 11, and I did ten. How could four handstand pushups be so problematic, I wondered, staring at the wall in front of me patiently. This is the price for walking through the d-lifts with ease, I decided.

The second wod was a welcomed reprieve from the barbell but succinctly replaced by the evil and unforgiving rower. Without going too deep, we had previously discussed rowing technique and debated whether or not fewer but more powerful strokes would be more advantageous in this wod. I personally used this strategy and was happy with my pace. Furthermore, Daytona was apparently ahead of the game on this strategy and deployed it with a finer degree of efficiency. With the most significant variable being body type I can only surmise that it comes down to personal preference.

This wod was the ultimate body weight bonanza, combining just enough accoutrements to inject a modicum of discomfort while inspiring the cunning strategies. I kept my RPMs steady while drafting in Turbo’s exhaust, lying in wait and looking for small opportunities to charge the afterburners and deploy an oil slick. I hammered 30 straight wall balls and caught up to him on the box. While he had his selector switch set on three round bursts I went for the fully automatic version knocking out 20 or so reps in a row but then succumbing to the fire in my legs. We continued to jockey for position until he pulled away with a 20 rep pull up set compared to my broken set. I caught up on push ups deploying the pistons I had tucked away. We both took sit ups in stride, he finishing faster and getting to squats first. I matched his pace initially but then fired the afterburners with unrelenting force, heels coming of the ground and steam bellowing from the exhaust, and determined to pass him. Getting wind of my plan he deployed is reserves and crossed the finish line about eight seconds in front.

I would be remiss for not expressing my gratitude for this collaboration. CFJAX et al. Daytona, and the ever important willing accomplices. Thanks