The Sandbag
Small essay on a workout after work with sandbag and kettlebells.
The clock marks 17:00. I am done with work, brain a bit fried from building data pipelines, the vibrations of stress receding throughout my body. I might be mentally tired, but the muscles are ready to hustle.
I have a portable gym sitting at the back of my car, some friends have pointed out to me how messy my trunk looks, but the two 36.11 pound chimp face shaped kettle bells, jumping rope, resistance bands and 100 pound sandbag provide consistency. No workout left unskipped when I can easily workout from my car. This is enough equipment for me to get in a solid full body workout, plus this is not too much stuff so setting it up at parks is fairly easy. I can also travel to visit my family out of town without missing a workout.
Today I am taking my mobile gym to the top of my apartment’s parking lot to train with Austin’s buildings stretching in the horizon with a burnt sky as a stage.
I park at the far end, open the trunk and unload the sandbag and kettle bells. I grab the jumping rope and warm up with simple and double jumps for 5 to 10 minutes. The impact of my feet hitting the concrete primes my legs for the toll that’s to come.
Sand, resting motionless, not wanting to be picked up, 100 pounds of entrapped gains in this bag. I stare at this mass and hesitate to start my workout. As I wait for motivation, a good omen or perhaps for discipline to kick in, I remember something I read recently: There is a strength tradition in Scotland where there’s hundreds of lifting stones around the country. This dates back to the age of clans in Scotland, around a thousand years ago, where each had its own and no child was considered a man until he was able to lift the stone.
I have no Scottish blood flowing through my veins, but remembering this strength tradition was enough to get me fired up. I start my workout with bear hug carries. First I get into position, hinge at the hips, grab the sandbag as if I was about to dead lift, but instead of wrapping my hands around a barbell, I dig my fingers deep into the fabric to get a solid hold. Gravity shapes the bag as I slowly lift.
Then I get into a squatting position placing the sandbag in my lap, hug it as hard as I can and stand up. I feel the sandbag in my torso, my ribs crushing my lungs, adding a breathing challenge to this exercise. I make an effort not to think, shut the mind from the signals of pain. I only need to move my legs forward. Moving reminds me of my time playing rugby, when I had to carry the ball and the opposition’s defense hung to my body, trying to pin me down, demanding the ball back. Pure conviction of strength keeping the momentum going.
The objective is to walk 100 ft, 50 ft in one direction and 50 ft back to where I started, resisting the pain each step of the way. This is a fully body exercise. My legs act as foundation to move and carry the weight. As I hug the sandbag, my upper back opens up like wings, the traps and lats get engaged from the isometric hug. Since the arms clench the sandbag to my body, I get enough stimuli to develop the forearms and biceps.
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I do 4 to 6 rounds of this, by the last couple of rounds the pain is too much. My lower back once acting as solid support, now feels like jenga blocks struggling to balance. On my way back to the finish line I feel my muscles tightening up and breathing becoming harder. All I want to do is drop the bag and reach for my cold water. That’s not an option. I start to rush, frantic steps leading me to the finish line, but this action demands more oxygen, more strength, resources that are in short supply. Nothing left but to endure the pain. I slow down until I finish. I let gravity take a hold of the sandbag and sit on top of it feeling the wind cooling the engine.
To give my body a small break I continue my workout with abdominal exercises. A small respite from the battle my body thinks it won. Ab-wheels, dead bugs and V-sits. Rep by rep I give my posterior chain a break while I engage my core. As I lay on my yoga mat doing V-sits, I notice that I don’t tip over. Now I can hold my legs higher, for longer. Even though weightlifting/body exercises demand a higher level of attention to technique compared to running, I have been blind to my progress. As I rest for the next round, I sit and wonder why the kettlebells and sandbag praise my progress by letting me lift farther, longer, harder. But I fail to recognize how far i’ve come.
After 3 to 4 rounds of 2 abdominal exercises it is back to sand bag work and kettlebells. This is the final stage of this workout session. I like to set this up as back to back exercises. I start with kettlebell snatches, I have performed these with one single kettlebell, but I enjoy the double version better.
I begin in the hinge position, holding on to the kettlebells in the floor. Grip their handles, then explode from the hips, control the kettlebells on the way up over my head and lock everything.
Hold the kettlebells with solid grip and control the weight back down and place it on the floor. Minimum time between each rep, aiming for 10 to 12 per round. The violent twitch movement like dynamite spikes my heart rate.
Right after the kettlebells, I grab the sandbag, the same way I did before. Getting into position, digging my hands into the fabric and hoisting the mass up my shoulder. Now the exercise I am performing is moving the sandbag from one shoulder to the other, making sure to control the weight during the transition.
I first learned about this exercise when I trained MMA back in high school at a border town gym. At the grappling mats, fighters used this exercise to develop their carry control. The best thing the sand can do is resist your grip. Having dead weight that defies cooperation is one of the closest things to an opponent you can find.
After the initial lift, I have to explode my hips to move the sandbag to my shoulder, which smashes my trapezius and shoulder muscles. The friction of the bag resting at my upper body reminds me of the beating I just received from the kettlebells.
I wrap the arm that’s doing the lifting around the sandbag, getting a good hold. After a second or two, it comes back down to chest level, another powerful movement from the hips and onto the other side. If I feel like it, I might do a squat with the sandbag on either side, just to sink deeper into the suck.
Once I am done, I look at my smartwatch, heart rate around 170. The aerobic-anaerobic frontier has been crossed. I then look at my hands, they are red, blood palpitating under the skin, inside the tiny muscles. The burning sensation does not let me forget I work with a keyboard for a living.
Even though the years have passed, the Scottish rocks still rest in place, waiting for a brave soul to accept their challenge, interrupting their slumber. You can find a map of these stones here.
