FRAN

The ‘F’ bomb! Actually she is the mother of all ‘F’ bombs. Fran! Yes I said it, she does not sound or look that hard. But it is hell on earth. Fran is a workout where you try to finish 21 thrusters, 21 pull-ups, 15 thrusters, 15 pull-ups, 9 thrusters, and 9 pull-ups as fast as you possibly can. The benchmark time to finish the devil woman is 3 minutes 16 seconds. But after the first time I wobbled my way through her I never wanted to ever try it again let alone try to get below 3:16. I remember thinking to myself “I will main line “Draino” before I ever put myself through that again”.

This is a story of my first time doing Fran. Take into account that none of us had ever done a thruster. The team barely learned how to do kip pull ups on Thursday. Fran was scheduled that Saturday, this was the first Saturday back from Christmas break. Also take in to account that before Lamb it was a lift at your leisure type program.

Guys crawling on the ground, guys outside puking, guys lying in the hall, guys that I consider to be the strongest mentally and physically that I have ever met. There is a look of such pain and discomfort on their faces that it makes me scared to put myself through that same hell. I chalk my hands that are beyond clammy, my knees shake, my guts twist, and I can hear my heart thumping. I step up to the bar close my eyes and inhale deeply, the air is filled with a thick mist of anticipation and heat. A heat that comes not only from the guys who are about to start the workout but from the guys who anticipate their lungs and muscles to be released from the pain. I exhale through my nose literally taking my last burn free breath of the day. I wrap my fingers around the bar, it feels unforgiving, and cold, but still very much alive. Coach Bennion yells “BARS UP!” I clean what at the time being seems to be a light 95 pounds. My wrists wrench back and I feel the steel bounce off of my collar bones. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, there is only a breath between the two demands but it feels like an eternity before Bennion unleashes the devil. “GO” he yells. After the first rep I am thinking this isn’t bad. Reps two, three, and four, I am thinking that “shit I am the man, I got this.” Fourteen a fire is burning in my quads. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, I am thinking “oh my god, what in the Fran is happening.” One more, twenty one! Holy shit, find an open pull up rack. I jump up and grab on to the handles to start my pull ups. All that I can think of is how am I going to find the strength to do fifteen more thrusters. Excitement gets me through the first twelve pull ups. I get to pull up seventeen and I am thinking that this is never ending. Holy shit! I realize I have never done twenty one consecutive pull ups in my life. I do the running man in the air to wiggle my way up to Tico’s "arms at a 90 degree angle, head six inches from the top", pull up position and call it good (thanks Doc I forgot about that). I drop down from the pull ups. I am light headed and confused doing the “Fran walk” back to my platform. I bend down to grab the bar but can’t force myself to clean this “light” ninety five pounds immediately. I try to breath but I can’t get any air. I clean the bar and the weight pushes me down to start my set of fifteen. I can see their lips moving but I can’t hear them. The fire in my quads is a fire that is hotter and more extreme than anything I have ever experienced. I black out for the rest of the reps. All that I remember is walking over to the pull up rack and  with every step my vision bounces when my foot hits. I have to crawl up the safety bars on the side because the thought of having to jump seems physically impossible. I start doing my last set of pull-ups that seem like a blur.  I can feel my reconstructed shoulder holding on by the last tendon every time I bottom out.  I can’t see anything as I walk back to my platform. My throat is so dry! My tongue feels like sandpaper as I try to swallow. By this time the only thing that is on my mind is finish. I just want to get this over with. I have never felt anything like this before. I somehow finish my thrusters. My knees buckle as I walk to the pull-up rack. My legs are shaking so bad that I can’t even find the safety bar to put my foot on. I have tunnel/kaleidoscope vision. Only god knows how I finish my pull ups. Herman and Tui yell “DONE” and Bennion gives them my time. Six minutes and thirty eight seconds. “BULLSHIT” I say well think I say (Fran destroys all motor skills). It had to have at least been six or seven hours.   

I pick myself up and start to walk outside, the next group is about to go. By the time I have taken five steps the real pain kicks in. It feels like someone injected battery acid into my veins and it intensifies with every beat of my heart. It feels like I can feel the acid running through my body.  The burning that is in my thighs and forearms is unbearable. My lunges feel like I inhaled tiny balls of fire. The burning in my chest is like a million bees stinging my lunges. I can taste blood. Are my lunges bleeding? I am dying! I spit but it’s a frothy foam that could hold an anvil to the ceiling. I can literally see my heart beating through my shirt.  Just looking at my hands or forearms make them scream with twice as much pain. My hand and forearms feel like god is pulling every tendon from my elbow to the tips of my fingers with all he is worth. A Charlie horse is a fraction of the tightness in your forearms. I can’t see! The ground looks like it is the ocean. How long is this going to last?  If I wind up in hell this is what I imagine I will feel like. I tell Blake “Ace you drive. I can’t see.”  When we show up to our College Way #23 apartment I can’t hold it anymore. I start to throw up. Not a graceful car sick throw up. A throw up that is like no other throw up. I have zero words to describe how terrible this throw up was for me.  My legs quiver with every stair that leads up to my room, I lay down, six or eight hours later I gain conciseness. Never again I tell myself never again.  

This guy kills fran!