The GORUCK Heavy Challenge is 10 days away. For the last month I’ve trained at extra-high volume, never very intensely but with all the miles and reps I can get in. It’s been a stretch, and I’m now definitely in a state of “overreaching,” where I’ve purposely trained a little more than I could recover from.
How do I know? I’ve got all the signs of overreaching or overtraining: poor sleep, outsized appetite, carb cravings, fatigue, irritability, inflammation and fatness, and a tiny muscle twitch in the corner of one eye.
Now I’ll abruptly stop all training right up until game day. In theory, I’ll now super-compensate for the excessive training and be stronger than ever on D-Day. I hope I’ve timed it right. I have a touch of what I now recognize as knee tendonitis, and though that isn’t so very surprising, I need to be diligent about giving it lots of TLC so that it will clear up quickly.
I am 20 days out from the “GORUCK Heavy” event. Normally I reserve this blog for content that I think will have general interest, not “training log” entries. But this month will be a little different, as I leave a sort of memo for my future self, and this post is a snapshot of my training right now.
What is a “GORUCK Heavy Challenge?”
For 24 hours, you and a team carry backpacks full of bricks and various sandbags or logs, with assorted calisthenics mixed in and periodic plunges into cold water. If I’m not mistaken, the evening begins with a PT test (a timed run, pushups, situps, and maybe pullups), followed by a timed 12-mile march. After that, a vomitous PT beat-down sardonically called the “welcome party.” And then you march around together carrying stuff for the remainder of the 24 hours. Typically the team covers 40 miles and the completion rate is 50%.
Last year I did a shorter version of this, called the “GORUCK Tough,” that lasted only 12 hours. All of our people completed the event.
Last year I trained in full ketosis and only started eating M&Ms and the extremely awesome caffeinated German military chocolateduring the event. This year I’m follow low-carb endurance champ Zach Bitter’s approach instead, allowing myself 15-30% carbs to support a high training volume in this last month. When I start my taper, on about D-7, I’ll go back into ketosis and stay there except for a wee little carb load on D-2 and D-1.
Last year I competed at 162 lbs. and 9% bodyfat. For me that’s tiny. This year, I was persuaded that muscle mass pays in ruck marching so I decided to carry an extra 10 lbs. of muscle. As of today, I’m 175 lbs. at 11% bodyfat and I’ll probably stay right here.
I got both arms injured in a car accident, and they’re only now returning to something like normal, so I feel that I’m behind on resistance training. I’m relying on GTG and ladders for pushups and pullups, and a few days a week I do one high-rep set of 16kg kettlebell snatches if joint health permits. (If you’re not familiar with GTG and ladders, stay tuned. I’ll cover them soon for the “lazy strength” series.)
Amazingly, right now this is my strong suit. For months I’ve been racking up lots of volume, roughly using Stu Mittleman’s approach. (I’ll cover this soon too.) Most of it has been actual ruck marching, including lots of 12-mile rucks and one 24-miler, but there’s been some variety too: a little biking and running and sometimes wearing ankle weights. (Since the upcoming event will start with a 2-mile run, during the next couple weeks I’ll have to practice a few of those, just so that my ankles and calves remember what to do.)
My recovery stinks. Rectifying that has to be Priority #1. April is my busiest month and my sleep schedule was torn to shreds. For the remainder of this month, lights-out is 10pm.
We’ve all had friends who exerted unhealthy influence over us. They were charismatic and had qualities we wanted to emulate, but in the exuberance of growth we also idealized them for a time and didn’t want to accept that they too were just fragile, finite people with foibles, not all-purpose role models. And so we had to set grown-up boundaries rather than follow our friend into something self-destructive. Yes, your buddy was totally right all along about your ex-girlfriend, and yes, you should work less and invest more in enjoying life. You can learn a lot from him. But no, he’s dead wrong when he harangues you, “Dude, you have got to date a stripper at least once in your life!” You really do have a lot to learn from your friend, but he is not an oracle. Boundaries.
I’ve reached that point with GORUCK’s MACV-1 boots. I wanted them to be my Boots to End All Boots. And they really did expand my mind beyond just my reliable, elephantine, 5-pound pair of Bundeswehr clompers. The MACV-1s are nimble, minimal, quick-drying, good-looking, and they feel light as a pair of socks.
So I didn’t want to acknowledge that whenever I wear them to go down hills, I slip and fall. The first time seemed like an anomaly: I was going down a steep, washed out, crooked defile and it was just bad fortune, I supposed, that the first time I wore the new boots there, my foot slid from under me and I dropped into the gully on top of an anthill. But it kept happening. Every single time I hiked downhill, even on a pretty tame surface that didn’t warrant a second thought with other boots, I’d step on some gravel or mud and go down hard.
I tried ameliorating the problem with smaller steps, different balance, or fuller foot contact. But then SWOOSH! I’d slip again.
No more. I’ve been in a classic cognitive dissonance trap—high hopes, with a lot already invested, and I’ve denied mounting evidence that if I stubbornly continue wearing the MACV-1s in the hills, I could pop my knee like a chicken joint.
They’re still great for pavement and flat, hard dirt paths, but I’ll never again put 100# on my back and roll the dice with these going down a hill. Unfortunately, they are a no-go for the GORUCK Heavy.
I have lots of surplus packs, but there are two that I love and cherish. For big jobs, I have a version of the legendary Swedish LK-35. For everything else, I carry the nimble, gorgeous Swedish M39, the “Moose Sack.”
Like in Switzerland, Sweden’s neutrality is very much an armed neutrality. Even though Sweden did not fight WWII, they kept over half a million men under arms. And since the Swedes knew a thing or two about the outdoors, Erik and Oskar were issued a rucksack that is a work of genius. You can recognize it anywhere by the strange, perforated, leather-covered crescent shape at the top, which is a godsend for comfort.
As its backbone it has a peculiar X-shaped frame. It holds the pack close to your back without quite touching, and the top of the pack moulds itself over your shoulders, so it is pleasant to carry and makes you feel quick and light. In addition, the pack “grabs” the body firmly and stays put, with minimal slipping, flopping, or bouncing. On a heavy march, that saves energy because you don’t have to hold the pack still. And it feels more ergonomic and somehow more agile than something with a rectangular frame. You can also adjust the ride height and even the spacing of the straps on your shoulders!
Today’s game was to sew straps onto both ends of the Steel Snake and take it out for a slither.
Over 4 miles (6.4km), the Snake and I agreed on a few things:
With straps added on, it slips and flops around less. That way it’s much easier to carry.
Since it’s pretty slender, you can stay completely upright.
For both those reasons, you can relax under the load and carry it much, much longer.
However, the Steel Snake gives you too many choices. When I dreamed it up, I thought it would be great that I could carry the snake lots of different ways, including wrapped in various ways around the waist, neck, and shoulders. And although you really can carryin different positions, it’s a pain to shift around and you spend as much time fiddling with it as marching. Furthermore, though lots of carry positions work, only one works spectacularly well, and that’s worn across the body like a sash or a bed roll.
So as my next experiment, I’ll change the Steel Snake into a dummy-proof fixed loop or “steel sash.”
In the real world, when we need to lift or haul something challenging, it’s less often because it’s terribly heavy and usually because it’s awkwardly shaped. Stones are bad. A half-filled keg is worse. It is like a stone whose center of gravity sloshes around and wrenches it from whatever tenuous hold you have. It can be an ordeal to shoulder just 50 lbs., much less to move around with it for a few minutes.
And what if you had to carry that 50 lbs. for 24 hours? What would be the ideal shape? That is the question for the upcoming GORUCK Heavy event, where aside from rucksacks and other evil toys, we also need to devise a 50-lb. “team weight” and carry it for the whole 24 hours.
Again, it is about center of gravity (COG). Theoretically, you want to carry weight directly above your COG. On top of your head is the most efficient, or at least across your shoulders.
But for GORUCK, the problem is that everybody will already be shouldering heavy rucksacks and be a little stooped over.
Sometimes you can rig a shoulder pole or yoke that slings the weight below your center of gravity, for stability, so you aren’t top-heavy and precariously balanced. These would be great if we didn’t need to climb hills and rocky defiles. But at GORUCK we will.
The Army field manual suggests carrying part of your load on your waist. It’s efficient because you can make the load hug your center of gravity. Similarly, a “double pack” divides the load between your front and back, so that you can (more or less) share a common COG with your backpack while standing upright. The Army literature recommends these when practical, but that is rare in military settings. (For one thing, you can’t crawl well.) It also won’t quite work for us at GORUCK–everybody will already be carrying an individual ruck–but it does give me ideas…
So behold [drumroll] the Steel Snake!
With quick and dirty sewing lessons from Lauren the Miraculous, I sewed up 50 lbs. of lead weights and steel chain in a 9′ (2.7m) ripstop chain sleeve and took it out for field tests with a rucksack over a 2.1 mile (3.4km) stretch of country road.
With the Snake, you can re-distribute the weight in the most efficient, comfortable way at any given moment–around your waist, over one or both shoulders, on your chest, on your back, even shared between two people–and you can keep shifting it as you go, from tired muscles to fresh muscles. It’s not exactly a hot soak with essential oil, tea lights, and an Enya album. But for lumbering overland with 100 lbs. (rucksack + team weight), this is actually pretty pleasant. And for extra cool points, people will think you’ve been accosted by a boa constrictor in a clown suit.