Crossfit Games Australian Regional

Four and a half months after returning from my world circuit I found myself shooting up to Sydney for the Crossfit Australian regional. Competing this year was a goal born from the inspirational feats I witnessed in Carson at the world crossfit games but I knew that with 6 months of continuous travelling on a tight budget and with limited time in each place it could be a challenge. Luckily for me the "sectionals" this year were conducted in an "open" format over a six week period that allowed me extra time to undo the wrong doings of the previous 6 months. I scraped in ranked 49th and was off to Sydney to compete against what the open had determined were the 60 best male crossfitters in Australia.





A week out from the regionals and I was feeling a little uninspired by the events leading up to the competition. After six tiring weeks of doing workouts every thursday night at Schwartz's we were told a week (for us) early what the workouts were going to be. Shortly after that the standards were released and two of my favourite exercises (box jumps and burpees) looked to have been slowed to an almost stagnant pace in order to make judging easier. As it turned out my legs were that cooked by the 315 pound bar that just getting up onto the box felt amazingly difficult let alone jumping off and springing back up again. And the burpees.... well I didnt quite make it to the burpees.

After the above skepticism I thouroughly enjoyed the weekend. Acts of true grit and determination were abundant. Men and women checking themselves into the "special place" for extraordinarily extended stays. All in all it was just a great example of the crossfitter's ability to get shit done.

What did I learn? Firstly you have to be super strong to even think about competing in crossfit now. 315 pounds deadlifting is short fast cardio for the best and I suspect 135 pound will soon become the new 95 pound for all things below paralell. This evolution is something unique to crossfit because it is such a new sport and after the weekend I feel that it definitely is a sport. The feeling I had warming up before each WOD was just as exciting as the feeling in the changerooms before a footy match and I loved every second of it. Secondly, with great support performance increases. The crew from Schwartz's was amazing in their cheering and motivation which allowed me to acheive a number of PBs.

For now I will be lifting heavy weight so in future I can "disrespect" the weight in front of me and do better.

Vietnam

From the sub zero temperatures of the Himalayas to the steaming hot Ho Chi Minh city I was in a different world and although hard to believe for friends in Vietnam the previous 21 hours in transit made sense of the contrasting environments. I had left Kathmandu at about 2pm.. reached Delhi by 5pm and had a 1:10am flight to Bangkok to wait for. So I weighed up my options. I could buy three hours in a private lounge for around 40 bucks which would include internet access, food and beverage.. I could buy a sleeping pod with a tv and dvd player for 7 dollars per hour but I would have to buy my own dvds to play. Or I could just save money and wait it out with the help of a book and various meals at the airports food court. I chose the latter... Starting with about 5 laps of Delhi International comparing prices of the first two options and finishing with an all you can eat buffet and a sleep in a cosy little corner I found. The flight was on schedule and in what seemed like no time at all I was in Bangkok with another wait on my hands. This time it was only 5 hours. So I gave myself another airport tour before running into a massage store and enjoying a half an hour foot massage. The flight to Hochiminh felt short like the previous one which made me wonder how sky scanner could possibly sell this route from Kathmandu to HCMC.. So much time at airports and so little time in the air.

From Saigon airport I was picked up by Mr Binh. Strangely similar name to Mr Bim who had taken us to Base Camp only the week before but very different in appearance and attitude. They did however have the same entrepreneurial way of life. Mr Bim in Nepal guiding the mountains, the city of Kathmandu and assisting with shopping expeditions and Mr Binh running his taxi and a health food franchise. Anyway, the main thing I noticed on the ride to Matt and Ingrid's apartment was how far ahead HCMC was compared to India and Nepal. The streets were relatively clean, the power lines slightly more organized and the general filth factor was much lower.

Staying with Matt and Ingrid was fantastic. Their knowledge of the country allowed me to make the best use of my limited time and get a really good understanding of life not only for them but for the local Vietnamese people. The first thing that struck me about HCMC was the food. Cheap and unbelievably fresh and tasty. They don't hold back on the sugar, fish sauce (salt) and spices which makes for some seriously delicious meals. The wrapping of everything in various greenery that look like the clippings from a garden working bee did get a little old however and it astounded me how wrong you could go by wrapping the chicken in the poison ivy rather than the mustard leaf (something Mr Nghiep - the easyrider caught me out on several times). Sightseeing wise my favourite place was the War Remnants Museum. It was interesting to see a history of the Vietnam/American war from another perspective. In high school we never learnt the stories of American GIs slaughtering hundreds of women and children. In this museum not only did it tell these stories but showed them through graphic pictures of GIs holding up remains and sitting in circles around piles of skulls.

After HCMC I flew (by way of Christmas present from Matt and Ingrid) to Da Lat, a 40 minute flight north of HCMC in the South Central highlands of Vietnam. Da Lat is the home of the easy riders.. and it was my plan to find a Mr Nghiep to take me on a journey through the Vietnamese countryside ending up in Hoi An. I found Mr Nghiep, He took me through the countryside but we didn't finish up anywhere near Hoi An.

Four Day Easyrider Tour with Mr Nghiep

This tour was something different to anything I have experienced throughout the past six months. Not only was it off the typical tourist track but it gave me access to the local people in a way that would be impossible with a large group. I had only learnt about Vietnam's ethnic minorities weeks before through conversations with Matt and Ingrid.. and now I was going into their houses and watching them make a living from garage factories producing silk, sugar, coffee, brooms and so on. All with their own language and many still trading without money. The cultural diversity within the different minorities throughout the central highlands was incredible. Some saw the woman as the most important figure in the family whilst others were very male dominated, some build their houses on stilts with big tee pee like roofs and others had different ladders for men and women distinguished by carvings of breasts and penises. the amount of knowledge Mr Nghiep was able to pass on was amazing and impossible for me to remember it all but it definitely opened my eyes to a society I never even knew existed.

The tour also took me to various battle grounds during the war. Where Nghiep had many terrible stories of the battles that took place. Seeing the devastating impact of agent orange and napalm fist hand was very touching and to see this beautiful country so scarred was terrible.

I was dropped off at the Laos border after four fantastic days and after a brief goodbye.. Mr Nghiep road off into the distance as my bus left for Southern Laos and some interesting times ahead..

Jum Jum Okalo! UPDATED

Port of departure... New Delhi... Port of arrival.. Kathamndu... Purpose of visit... trekking. The visa registration form said it all, we were in Nepal for one reason.. to get into the mountains and see Mt Everest in all its glory. At that stage we had no idea of the friends we would meet and the challenge that lay ahead.

Waiting in the lobby of the hotel at 5:30 am on the 27th of December we were met by our guide and directed into the back of a minivan to begin our journey into the highest mountain range on earth, the himalayas. Bim.. or Mr Bimbastic as he was later named seemed shy, reserved and conservative at first, moving us to board with great urgency when our flight to Lukla (three hours delayed) finally arrived and not showing much involvement in the banter of the first days trek from Lukla to Phakding. But looking back now I realise that even in those early days... Mr Bimbastic was itching for the spotlight under the facade of Mr Bim.

The hike to Phakding was a very kind intro to the trek, taking us no longer than 2 hours we reached the sleepy little riverside village before lunch where we enjoyed our first dahlbhat... rice, lentil soup and vege curry. We all enjoyed the seemingly limitless supply of vege, soup and rice and settled into an afternoon nap after our early start. At dinner we were told afternoon naps were against the rules as we wouldnt be able to sleep at night... Mr Bim was laying down the law and all three of us were finding it much easier to get along with the two cheerful porters than our guide. The next day was a little different... a couple of hours of similar up and down stuff before a long stretch of fairly steep walking before we arrived at Namche Bazaar at around 1:20pm... The first little challenge of the trek but we took it nice and slow and it was pretty relaxing strolling through the pine trees and over the bridges of the sub alpine Himalaya. The hotel in Namche was one at which we were allowed to eat meat and being slightly traumatized by the incredibly salty and slightly kerosene flavoured dahlbhat at lunch I was already off the traditional mountain dish and into a nice hot sizzling piece of chicken.

The following day was an acclimitization day where we went up a few hundred metres of altitude to a hotel which provided our first clear view of Everest. The amply named Everest View Hotel was charging 5 times the amount of the hotel in Namche for a cup of tea so we saved our lunchtime brew for our return. At 11:30 the day was young and we being in a village at 3500m above sea level with little to do provides itself with a different, less physical challenge... how to pass the time. With an afternoon nap taboo, playing cards, reading or just sitting there pronouncing how many hours and minutes there were until dinner filled that afternoon and the next 10 or so to come.

Now, acclimatized to 3500m we were to climb to the next point of rest.. Phortse. About 1-2 hours into the journey we were a (wo)man down.. Kris had succombe to a chest infection and was unable to continue... A small discussion took place as to whether or not Adam would stay behind to look after her but with her blessing and allegedly a little bit of moisture forming in the corners of the eyelids a three man party consisting of Mr Bim, Mr Money, Adam and myself continued on whilst Mr Harry and Kris went back to the nearest hotel to rest. After 5 or so minutes the big fella was back in a right state of mind, the pace had heated up and the three of us were now an extremely efficient trekking unit with a clear mission at hand.. get to basecamp, kalarpatar and then get back down to Kris ASAP. The hotel in Phortse was brilliantly clean and warm. The owner obviously took pride in the way he went about things as he had been to the top of everest and placed 2nd in the gruelling 42k everest marathon where they travel the distance from Basecamp to a valley near Namche Bazaar (which would later take us two days) in 4 hrs. I was impressed to say the least. That night we heard tales of breathlessness even when drinking tea at over 5000m and a for a moment or two the trek became serious. This mood only lasted until the next passing of wind and ridiculously concise announcement of minutes remaining until dinner when further uproarious laughter would turn the mood around and even Mr Bim was starting to show signs of loosening up.

The following day was a fairly easy but a little bland and we were definitely happy to arrive in Dingboche for our two nights of acclimatization at 4400m. I was 300m higher than when I summited Mt Toubkal, the highest mountain of North Africa and we were in a valley! It was through this thought that I realised what a seriously remarkable place I was in and what seemed like a movie set surrounding us suddenly became real.

That night at Dingboche would be birthing ground for Mr Bimbastic who when one of the other guides around the pot belly asked if Adam and I were a gay couple nearly wet himself, coming close to falling off his chair and onto the pot belly's stove! We would later catch him falling asleep by the fire which all the other guides thought was hilarious and the whole place had turned from near silence when everyone was refueling their exhausted bodies to a plethora of laughs.

... The following day we had to option to rest or to use our acclimatization to to a"climb"atize up a "hill" that provided a further 300/600m of elevation and therefore a decent enough change in air-oxygen concentration to be beneficial to the rest of our trek.

The morning started nice and late as we could see (what we thought was) the top of the "hill" from our lodge and were in no rush. Bim, Mr Money, Adam and I started off nice and slow up what was fairly step terrain. We had earlier elected to go straight up the face of the mountain and therefore there was no track so we were following the lead of Mr Bim. Once we got to the first tibetan flag covered post (about 300m above the lodge) we decided to press on to the top. What looked like a 30 minute maximum add on would prove to be an extra hour++ and the incline would become steadily steeper. But after a little bit of hard stuff we were perched pretty on the top of this "hill" and had fantastic views of surrounding mountains and frozen lakes. Adam was then informed by a man we named "Captain America" that he had burnt around 2000 calories on the climb and I could see he was itching to get down and stuck into a big plate of cheesy macaroni. We had also made it for the first time to just over 5000m which was a great feeling. Having said that, the common preoccupation with altitude and how high you have climbed to the meter etc was at this point in the trek starting to get on my nerves. At the end of the day it is just a number and I have much more respect for those who just get the job done, enjoy the scenary and have a laugh rather than being a massive tool over the fact you climbed to 5382.754m and love the way you look in your bright coloured skin tight trekking pants with black patches on the knees. Anyway... it was a bit of fun on the way down with Adam slipping all over the joint and Money running down with us chasing him. Having never had a little brother I felt a weird natural urge to chase him down and belt him up a little and I now completely understand why older brothers do this... When we reached the lodge it was time for two big bowls of macaroni with tomato and cheese (our staple) and two extra plates of rice with tomato sauce. Brilliant. We slept well that night in relatively warm temperatures compared to what was to come.

The following day was an easy 3.5 hour walk along fairly flat, arid, almost moonlight terrain to the camp of Lobuche. That night at dinner we were confronted with a group of 20 odd possibly intrepid, diamox popping lemmings all wearing the exact same down jackets and beanies. We did have to feel for the poor bastards though as we looked out the window to see their accomodation... I row of yellow tents with two purple tents for toilets. Good luck we thought as we engulfed our egg fried rice and settled in by the fire for another night of laughs, this time peaking when Mr Money taught us some apparently hilarious swear words in Nepali. The events of that night post bedtime were strange and unexplained. Both of us reported very strange, scary dreams that resulted in one of the worst sleeps of our lives. Adam had people standing at the foot of his bed telling him how to sleep..."right hand up there".... "roll over!".... "knees up!"... I on the other hand felt trapped in my sleeping bag and had amounts of rupees in my head that I had to pay for things to eventually get better... "its alright max, hang in there... just another 500 rupees my head would tell me." You could lose yourself up there in the night. No laughing matter.

The next day was planned to be a big one. I fairly easy 3ish hour walk through more moonlike flat stuff to Gorak Shep before lunch and an accent through more of the same to Base Camp which was estimated at 5 hours round trip from GS. To be honest Base camp was not much to look at but we both agreed that you need to get there to complete the trek. Because of this slightly anticlimatic trek up we didnt stay long and hit the track hard on the way back down to be back at GS in a total time of 3 hours. Needless to say we were both absolutely wrecked and had to lie there in the resaturant and sip on milk tea for a good 30minutes before conjuring the strength to get changed. Picture of devastation post basecamp round trip above..

Now, with only one more thing to do before it was "all down him from here" was to get to the top of Mt Kalapatar... The following morning we opted out of the common approach which is to hit the mountain before sunrise and watch the sun rise over everest

.. which Bim told us was far too cold. No arguments from us as we started our climb at around 7:30... It was about halfway up which in typical Himalayan tradition looked like the top from the bottom that I started to feel the thin air.. A bit of pressure around the thoracic cavity seemed to restrict the depth of my breaths. This resulted in my legs saying "where's the oxygen?" and my lungs saying... "ahhh... nope.. none up here.. but they both dealt with it and we were up the top in just under 1.5-2 hours... the best views of the trek were found up there on KP... 360 degrees of mountains, lakes and glaciers. After a good 20 mins ontop, completed with the consumption of an organic bar we were on our way back down and it was "all down hill from there"(nearly)... Starting to get a little sick of Macaroni and beggining to contiually fantasize about returning to the hyatt we decided to cut the 4 day trek down to namche into 2 and get the hell out two days early. This worked well with nice gradual downhills through a breathtaking valley on the first day and then some step downhill (Oralo) (where Mr Money taught me the art of bolting down from rock to rock) breif step uphill (Okalo), followed by a nice undulating last sector. In this last sector it was agreed that we would have a "mountain marathon" and race from a town just outside namche to our hotel in Namche... Mr Money carrying 3 bags.. one big one containing both of our clothes and sleeping bags.. and Adam and I carrying our day packs.. It wasnt long until it was clear that the handicap on Mr Money's back was providing him with quite a bit of trouble as I took an early lead... Running on the "Oralo" and flat parts and walking as fast as possible on the "Okalo" parts I found myself with a handsome lead accompanied by a crushing stitch in my chest that caused me to slow down to a walk.. Thinking Money and Adam would be just around the corner I pressed on after a breif break to be the first home.. a slightly empty victory knowing that I was carrying one quarter of Mr Moneys load and Adam wasnt keen on the idea of racing but a bit of fun nonetheless. The last two days were full of little downhill races... Mr Money shooting off down narrow side paths and me slipping, sliding, stopping and propping all over the place behind him. And on the second last night a little Rakshi(Home made millet wine) drinking in Phakding with Mr Harry. On the last night we had one final rendition of the nepali trekking song "Risham Firiri" and an everest beer before saying goodbye to Mr Money who was off to carry a ridiculous load of wood through the jungle, probably a ridculously long way. It was sad to part from the little mountain man who Id had great fun with the previous couple of days.

The final obstacle between us and the hyatt breakfast buffet was the notoriously scary plane ride from Lukla to Kathmandu... Down the 200-300m runway which slopes considerable down the slide of the mountain and up through the surrounding mountains we went on a relatively uneventful flight back to KTM. I had one of the times of my life with great friends and spectacular terrain and Ill definitely be back to tackle another trek in Nepal, hopefully sooner rather than later.

Turkiye

During my time overseas I have found there are some consistant factors that determine whether or not I like a city or town... The food, the people, culture - development balance and the availability of free wifi internet access(but not neccasarily in that order). With tasty cheap food, incredibly friendly people, a great mozaic of modern development, trendy cafes and jaw dropping mosques as well as wifi in almost every cafe both Istanbul and Turkey in general rate highly in all four criterion.

Tonight I went for a jog with the intent of picking up some dinner afterwards. I brought with me 10 Turkish Lira which is roughly 7 Aussie dollars and challenged myself to find a protein rich meal and an ayran (turkish strangely a bit salty yoghurt drink) inside that budget. I found a place where I could get a chicken shish plate with salad and an ayran for 9 lira leaving me an extra lira for a baklava type treat on the way home. This is just one of many examples of the delicious and cheap food options available in Turkey and its safe to say I have been eating very well!

The people have been great aswell. Despite the constant....Gday mate.... which has gone close to driving me over the edge at times they are incredibly friendly and always helpful when looking for directions or advice. I was able to gain a non tourist insight on the Turkish people when I was asked by the boys at the hotel I stayed at in Cappadocia to help them move house. Now.. this was at about 10:30am and I was happy to help them out for what I thought would be a few hours of work as I had nothing else planned and they had promised to look after my meals for the day. We started work at approximately 11:30am... broke twice before lunch for a drink... broke for an hour at lunch(at which stage I was under the impression we were finish)... broke numerous other times throughout the afternoon for tea(at all these breaks I as under the impression we were done)... It then came to about 7:00pm and we stopped for yet another break.. this time at a pide shop for food and I was absolutely certain we were finished at this stage so I relaxed my mind and let it look forward to having a beer with the people in my dorm after dinner... So Max... we are going to eat pide... go back to the hotel..rest for one house.... and then do one more trip from the storage place to my house.... No worries Ramazan I said through gritted teeth as my hopes of getting that beer sunk into the lap of the stray dog that was sitting at our feet scouting for fallen food... So back on the tractor... (yes we rolled in a tractor between storage space and target house).... to the hotel where we did indeed rest for one hour before travellng back to the storage space loaded the tractor for the 7th or 8th time of the day and headed for our final trip to Ramazan's new abode. Now let me tell you.... Efes (the local turkish beer) is not the best beer in the world, but after near 10 hours of fantasizing and craving it was the goddamn best beer I ever did taste! Even if it was consumed in a smokey basement bar filled amongst 20 to 30 Turkish men. To the hard earned thirst went the big cold beer!

Istanbul itself has two main sections to visit... well two main sections that I have seen anyway. Sultanahmet in the old town where all the mosques and sightseeing is and Beyoglu in the New Town where Taksim Square and Istaklil street are which is the modern cosmopolitan hub of the city.

The first night I had booked an airport pickup from Ataturk airport and when I arrived and saw it was pouring with rain I thought the 25 euros it was going to cost a steal! Thankfully however I had not yet paid the said euros...... I exited the arrivals gate and saw my man with a sign the read Max Roberson... close enough I thought and sure enough it was me he was waiting for... Now I am not sure if the following events took place because he had been waiting for my delayed flight but after quite a bit of thought Im not sure that was the reason.. Anyway, the man is not the friendliest in the world but not rude and when I asked to use an ATM he was happy to point me in the direction of one and waited for me to get cash out. We then walked to the carpark I hopped in the van and we started our journey to the hostel... now, upon reflection I think that if he was upset about having to wait for a delayed flight he would have shown more than just being slightly unfriendly.. as we continued down the freeway away from the airport he took a phone call and as we drove through the bucketing rain the phone call almost in unison with the weather became increasingly agro... we then pulled over and with his shouting reaching a maximum level I began to plan my escape plan for the event in which his anger was redirected towards my position! He then hung up the phone and we proceeded along the highway but only seconds later he started to mumble under his breath.. the mumbling turned into a grumble and suddenly we had pulled over again with him now yelling... Taxi Taxi Taxi pointing at the road. With me still in the van he proceeded to take my bags from the back of the van (at this point I was out with him trying to ask what had happened to which he replied Taxi Taxi) and shortly after I found myself on the side of a highway in the pouring rain having only arrived in the city moments earlier. I taxi soon arrived and delivered me to my destination at which point I was redirected to a different hostel where I was to stay for the following two nights. Welcome to Istanbul.

Gallipoli was the first stop on my circuit of Turkey organised by a travel agent at a sister hostel to the one I ended up in on that faithful first night and the tour of the peninsula was something that exceeded my expectations. The stories of Australians fighting for an independant Australian identity and turkish soldiers leaving the safety of their trenches to carry ANZAC wounded across open ground back to the ANZAC trenches were moving and inspirational. I didnt know the details on the history of the WW1 battle and found myself not wanting the tour to end. One of my favourite stories was that of Percy Black, an Australian machine gunner who positioned himself in the thick of the action at the top of what was called shrapnel valley. From this position he was successful in defending the ANZAC lines from many Turkish attacks. At one point he was hit on the left hand which he was using to feed the bullets into his gun... but he pressed on, using his teeth to feed the bullets and his right hand to aim and fire his weapon. Then his weapon was hit and damaged beyond proper function so he trekked kilometers back to the beach with a gunshot wound to his left hand carrying the damaged machine gun in his right. When he reached the beach he asked for another gun so he could continue fighting. Unable to carry the gun back to his position he recruited a group of young soldiers who had been overcome by the task of fighting and had stayed on the beach to help carry his gun back to the top of shrapnel valley and got back in the fight. He survived Gallipoli but was later killed in action in France where despite his peers telling him to stay behind as he was too valuable to the army and with the last words... we started this together, so we will end this together... he made a charge into direct fire and certain death. This was one of many examples of honour, bravery and perserverance that came out of Gallipoli and as I said earlier was absolutely inspirational.

I then went to Pammukale where calcium has been leaking out of the mountain for thousands of years forming what appears to be snow but is in reality a hard substance covering the cliff face. This initially had a wow factor about it but half a day in this tourist hub was enough for me!

I then went on to Fethiye where I was able to relax. Have a few good workouts, a scooter ride through the picturesque mountains and a day at the Oludeniz beach where the water is blue and crystal clear. There wasnt much else to do in Fethiye as the season had ended for the famous full day boat trips but it was a good place for relaxation and reflection as well as catching up on some much needed physical exercise.

From Fethiye it was onto Goreme a little town in the area of Cappadocia which is famous for its fairy chimneys which are tall rock formations caused by volcanic eruptions together with erosion results in what literally looks like a fairy chimney! I had a free day which consisted of the above mentioned removalist training and two days of tours which shed light on a little bit of the history of Cappadocia as well as the geography of the place.

From Cappadocia it was an overnight bus to Beyoglu Istanbul where I had a night in the park hyatt istanbul, a great end to what turned out to be a pretty exhausting week shooting around Turkey.. my day in Beyoglu consisted of a walk to Taksim square and down Istaklil St, numerous coffees and some good food in what is a fantastic part of town Istanbul with its trendy laneway cafes, designer and boutque fashion stores, many kebap and kofte stalls, pubs, patisseries and various parks.

I now have a day of sightseeing in which I will see the amazing Blue Mosque and Topkali palace and then its off to Bangalore the next day for the next chapter of this epic journey!

Turkey Workouts... Storıes to come..

WOD 30/11/2010

3 Rounds
10 strıct chıns
10 dıps

untımed, just to keep thıngs tıckıng over.

WOD 1/11/2010 - A Trıplet of Couplets

Warm Up
1 mıle run

Metcon
AMRAP 7
7 HSPU
21 Box Jump
Result: 4 Rounds

(2 mıns rest)

AMRAP 7
10 Tree chıns
10 Burpees
Result: 4 Rounds

(2 mıns rest)

AMRAP 7
10 Squats
10 Sıtups
Result: 10 rounds + 4 reps

Mobılıty
2mıns each hıp prone torso external rotatıon
2mıns lower back flexıon
2 mıns vertıcle shoulder extensıon

WOD 2/11/2010 - Pushup Practıce

Muscular Endurance
100 hands release push ups for tıme
Tıme: 4:49 (Improved from prevıous best of 5:10)

WOD 3/11/2010 - Pullup Practice

Warm Up
1km Jog
Metcon
50 Strict Commando Pullups
Every time I dropped off the bar ran a hard 400m followed by a precise 1 minute rest.
Result: 15:23
Pullups: 14,9,7,7,7,6

WOD 7/11/2010 - Pushing/Mobility

3 Rounds Untimed
Max reps HSPU - 15(PR),(disappointing),5(even more so)
1 min prone external hip rotation
then
3 Rounds Unbroken = rest so as that all sets are unbroken
30 Pushups
20 Squats
then
100 Core Variations
20 x wrist to knee, 20 x 4 count flutterkick, 20 x alternate wrist to knee, 20 x 2 count bicycle, 20 x knees out crossfit situps.
then
Mobility
2 mins each leg sitting external hip rotation in sauna

WOD 8/11/2010

3km Jog
then
21-15-9 reps for time of:
Walking Lunge
Box Jump
Squat
Result: 4:45
then
1 mile jog

Morocco, where everything is posseeble! UPDATED

My Moroccan adventure started with a ferry trip across the straight of gibraltar with an Austrian (Age: 28 Sex: Female Name: Christiana) and an American (Age: 37 Sex: Male Name: Christian). So I was travelling Morocco h the feminin and masculine versions of Chris. Easy to remember on my part but a little too coincidental for my liking (if Im honest). Ill just add at this stage that I am, at the present, enjoying a fine glass of red courtesy of Hyatt Regency Casablanca after chowing down on my fill of canapes. This is the life! Anyway the ferry took us to the port of Tangier the northern most point of Morocco. As soon as the ferry pulled up we were men and women on a mission and that mission was to get to Meknes ASAP. Out of the ferry, straight to the bank to change our euros to dhirams and into a cab to the train station we went. "Three for Meknes please" said Christiana in some seriously impressive french..."Oui, the train leaves...now" said the ticket lady..... and with a 100m sprint that would not even come close to Usain Bolt but would absolutely dominate an 86 yr old woman on a walking frame, we jumped on board the train to Meknes and our Moroccan journey had begun..

At Meknes, our mission was to shoot up to a small to a small mountain village called Moulay Idriss which was in very close proximity to a series of Roman ruins called the Volubilis. With the America in charge of negotiating for a cab we cleary got ripped off but in the scheme of things took a 30 click taxi for the equivalent of 13 euro. Not too bad. Moulay Idriss was a lovely little town... the food was cheap, less than 50 aussie cents for an egg and potato sandwhich and little over two dollars for the spiced mince meat version, the people where nice... dressed in what was our first exposure to the star wars-esque "Jelabas"... and the roman ruins were a pretty magic place to be at sunset. Let me just add that the red wine is going down a treat. On the morning of our second day in Moulay Idriss an event took place that is a story in its own right....

Chris the american and I thought it a great idea to take part in an authentic moroccan experience and pay a visit to the local public Hammam (public bath). Faysall from the hotel took us down a series of small alley ways, through an old wooden door, down a couple of flights of stairs and into the changing room of `the oldest Hammam in Moulay Idriss. In the cold, worn down, white painted room sat an ancient, near anorexic Moroccan man wearing nothing but some very loose clothe wrapped around his loin and sporting not more than 5 teeth. We were ordered to strip down to our underwear, led through a series of gloomy, dungeon like rooms, each one slightly more humid than the last and told to lie face down on the concrete floor. The man then left the room and we found ourselves, two men, in our underwear, lying next to each other in a sticky dungeon like room in the middle of nowhere somewhere outside Meknes, Morocco. At this stage my sphincter had shrunk to the size of a bees nostril and immediate regret dolinated my thoughts. Just as I began to distract myself with alternate thoughts I big hairy Moroccan bloke took to my agressively with a highly abrasive exfoliating glove! He scrubbed every last square mm of dead skin from my body venturing dangerously close to the family jewels. The next ten minutes consisted off scrubbing, rinsing and body twisted accompanied by very strange and slightly disconcerting kissing noises but the end result was squeaky clean skin and a nicely limbered musculature. The hammam scene when we were propped up was something that still seems surreal. I sat up to find that we were no longer alone... approximately 20 males had joined us in that room.. all in there jocks, scrubbing, rinsing, stretching and massaging each other in a way that raises a series of questions as to what young Moroccan men get up to when they are not aloud private time with women until after marriage. Chris and I both agreed we wouldnt discuss this experience again but on reflection I think it has to be documented.

Thats it for now, the red wine is going down too well and there are business people waiting for a crack at the computer.. More of Morocco to come.

Thıs saw the start of what was named the Faysall 6 day adventure, named after the man of the house at the guesthouse ın Moulay Idrıss who doubled as a travel consultant.

We embarked on our adventure from Meknes where an overnıght bus took us to Rıssanı whıch ıs the closest busable town to the desert. After gettıng off the bus we were confronted by dudes tryıng to get us to go wıth them to theır hotel from where we could base our desert trek. We fınally gave ın to a guy who seemed to be runnıng a mını monopoly on our bus load and we were of vıa 4 wheel drıve to merzouga where the camels and berbers (natıve desert folk) were waıtıng. Now rıdıng a camel ınto the desert, spendıng a nıght ın a nomad hut, eatıng tajıne and rıdıng back ın the mornıng sounds very exotıc and excıtıng. Dont get me wrong, ıt was a fantastıc experıence and I really dıd enjoy ıt but the essence of the experıence really ıs.... rıdıng a camel.. eatıng very sımple food... sleepıng ın a small hut ın the sand...rıdıng back ın the mornıng, only thıs tıme wıth a sore crotch from the prevıous day. Stıll, ıt had to be done and the mıdnıght clımb to one of the bıggest sand dunes ın the area was a lot of fun...

Our next destınatıon was Ourzazate, a 6 and a half hour drıve from Erfoud, a town neıghbourıng Merzouga. And how do three travellers travel 6 and a half hours across desert and through mountaıns ın Morocco... taxı of course. We hıred a cab for 1000 Dhıram or 130 AUD for those playıng at home. Dıvıde that by 3 and ıts under 45 dollars... Id pay that back home to get from the cıty to Brıghton East.

Ourzazate ıs supposed to be the hollywood of Morocco but to be honest... I could take ıt or leave ıt. Sure some great fılms such as gladıator and ındıana jones were fılmed eıther ın the studıos or the surroundıng desert but the sets are old and delapıdated wıth whats left not exactly ımpressıve.

From Ourzazate Chrıstıana and I saıd goodbye to Chrıstıan as we set off to Imlıle where we would base our trek ınto the hıgh atlas mountaıns to summıt Mt Toubkal. After more "help" from hotel owners at the taxı termınal ın Imlıle.. assurıng us that "everythıng ıs poseeble" we had a hotel, I had a jacket that looked to be to some degree waterproof and the next day we embarked on our journey to the top of the 4000m plus mountaın.

After the fırst hour or so I felt that I was comfortable wıth ıncreasıng the pace and treatıng the clımb to the 3200m refuge as a traınıng sessıon, so wıth my crossfıt traınıng behınd me and a lıttle bravado I charged off up the mountaın leavıng (the sensıble) Chrıstıana behınd. Now, the Max Chrıstıana found pale faced, sıttıng ın the corner of the refuge lounge chewıng on a twıx bar was a very dıfferent Max to the one she last saw chargıng off up the Toubkal track! It was about 40 mıns from the refuge when I felt myself runnıng out of energy fast and as I looked up at the surroundıng mountaıns.... much to my suprıse they had a certaın sway to them... so I sat down untıll the damn thıngs stopped swayıng and marched on once more... looked up... swayıng agaın.. oh dont worry about ıt Max I saıd to myself and contınued on to the refuge.... hence.. curled up ın corner, pale faced, eatıng saıd Twıx.

The next mornıng we woke sometıme between 0530 and 0600 but I was ın no shape to notıce. Sınuses took a beatıng overnıght resultıng ın no sleep for me nor anyone else who shared the cabın. Apologıes. But after a good 10 mınutes coughıng up copıus amounts of shıte, a hot chocolate and Chrıstıana forcıng me to eat a substantıal amount of the sugar domınant supplıed breakfast (the same stuff I dıdnt eat much of the prevıous day, addıng to my post hıke state at the refuge) I was ready to tackle the summıt. Wıth Chrıstıana ın front as a pace car I comfortably made ıt to the summıt through at tımes 2 foot of snow near the top and some of the best vıews I have ever seen. At the summıt I enjoyed a Twıx as a momento of the contrast between my state of mınd at the end of day 1 and when I had reached the top. The way back down to the refuge ınvolved me slıdıng down 20 percent of the snow cap on my arse, stackıng numerous tımes where the ıce met rock and generally havıng the sort of tıme one would descrıbe as not even remotely close to fun.

The walk back down to Imlıle was less than 3 hours and all down hıll but the combınatıon of clımbın up and down the summıt wıth that last sub 3 hour sector made for tıred legs at the end of the day.

We cabbed ıt back to Marrakech vıa another small town and booked straıght ınto hotel Alı. After a feed and a shower we were both out lıke a lıght. The next day we checked out of Hotel Alı and ınto equıty poınt hostel whıch, although hard to fınd has to be near the best hostel I have stayed at so far on the trıp. Nearly resort lıke ın ıts layout the place was decked out wıth a pool: rooftop terrace... many tradıtıonal Moroccan lounges and a great mıx of modern and classıcal Moroccan archıtechture and furnıture. Marrakech ıtself was a bıt of a dısappoıntment wıth the food ın the nıght market (whıch was the sıngle experıence that fırst lured me to Morocco) quıte dısappoıtıng causıng both Chrıstıana and I to pay extended vısıts to porcelaın throne later that nıght.

After Marrakech I found myself on a traın to casablanca where I touched down ınto Hyatt Regency Casablanca. Thıs hotel has to be the best of the hyatts I have stayed at wıth Grand Hyatt Bangkok and Park Hyatt Melbourne all around the same level. After a nıght of luxury ıt was back to the real world wıth a delayed flıght, mıd hıghway abandonment and varıous other travellıng trıbulatıons ın Turkey!

WOD - 27/10/2010

Warm Up
1000m Row - Medium pace - 3:37

Strength
5x5 Strict Press
50,54,54,54,54.

Metcon
3 Rounds for time:
7 Push Jerk @ 50kg
14 Pullups
21 Burpees
Time: 9:56

WOD 28/10/2010

Metcon
21-15-9

Hang power clean, 50kg
Knees to elbows
Hıp Extensıons

Tıme: 10:25

Barthelona

Every mate, mates of mates and various other young travellers I have spoken to have loved Barcelona so talking about how awesome it was would be pretty cliche. I booked for 3 nights with the intention of shooting up to San Seb for a couple of nights before making the journey south to Tarifabut found myself booking a fourth and fifth night in BCN. I think everyone has heard of the Spanish siesta and it was definitely something I was looking forward to experiencing however I didnt notice the siesta much at all... This was probably because after a night out in Barcelona the siesta naturally develops itself into your daily routine and is as much a ritual as brushing your teeth.

Going out in BCN is fantastic. Short and sharp. Meeting at 12, leaving a bar at 1 and arriving at a club around 0115 or 0130 is the norm with the clubs....in low season during the week.... closing down around 0500. This was the framework of my stay in Barcelona within which I made the attempt to fit in a few little sights of interest. A Gaudi walking tour, the Picasso museum and Park Guell were all I managd to see and I was not at all disppointed. Also within that framework were some great meals.... tapas where we gave the main man 10 euros each an told him to give us a great feed... that he did and managed to squeeze a few brews in the budget too. We took part in a paella experience where our mate Fernando taught us how to enjoy tapas the traditional way, how to make Sangria and finally how to make an excellent paella. We eat tapas, paella and drank plenty of Sangria until it was time for another fix of Barcelona nightlife... I stumbled into bed at 0730 the following morning.

Ive heard people talk about the people in BCN ..choosing life.. I saw it a little differently... They choose to live life with everything they have... they put all the passion, all the love and all the energy they have into every waking moment and after a morning of doing this they deserve a rest in the afternoon only to throw themselves into the night with the same energy as they attacked the day.

Nothing to report workout wise in Barthelona...