It’s been five months since the pandemic closed gyms around the country, and those of us who depend on a daily workout for mental clarity (or abs) are all getting through this in our own ways—forced to scour the internet for overpriced gear, relying on our bodyweight to get a pump. I know the resistance bands and single kettlebell I copped at pre-COVID prices are not cutting it, nor is working out solo. Earlier this month, I was in Los Angeles and in deep need of a new way to work out—something new, something exciting, something outside and therefore relatively COVID-safe, so I was instantly in when I heard about Deep End Fitness.
The pitch went like this: it’s a functional fitness group workout in a pool, with a focus on deep breathing, power endurance, and swimming technique. A physical and mental challenge with the collective intensity and group focus of something like Barry’s, plus substantial time spent submerged and desperately fighting your body’s urge to breathe.
Ten Thousand, a brand that makes a range of simple and durable fitness clothing, had created a new pair of shorts in collaboration with Deep End Fitness explicitly designed for a proper pool workout. Athletes must test everything Ten Thousand makes before going to market—I am an “athlete” in their eyes, and before I knew it I was on my way to grab some weights and jump in the pool alongside a two-time UFC champion to put these shorts through their paces.
Normally these workouts happen in an Olympic size pool in Irvine, but on account of the pandemic the company had secured a private pool deep in Topanga Canyon for a seemingly macho crew of guys. (When I arrived, I noticed I was the only participant without a late model 4x4 truck.) The pool’s owner, Justin, met me at the door for a tour of his recently renovated zen palace. He had hit it big in tech, quit eating two Bay Cities Deli sandwiches for lunch, and lost an incredible amount of weight doing Ironman Triathlons. The whole house smelled like incense; it had a screening room; the view was amazing. Namaste.
The work started with focused breathing exercises and escalated quickly from there. In the dewy grass beside the pool, we did something Don Tran and Prime Hall, Deep End’s co-founders and our fearless leaders, call a Burpee Breath Hold Ladder. It consisted of one full diaphragmatic breath, a full inhale, a hold, and then a burpee, laddering up until we were finishing with six reps. I was shirtless at 9 A.M., doing burpees with a group of chiseled guys while trying not to breathe. I was concerned.
Once that was completed, we got into the actual pool for a screening to make sure I would not immediately drown. Again, it started slow: 10 minutes of treading water, then crossing the pool underwater, a satisfying application of the crash course in breathwork I had just completed. But the next exercise felt very unnatural: swimming on your side, scissoring your legs, and paddling with one arm, while holding 10 lb. rubberized black brick out of the water. This was the moment I realized how difficult this was going to be, but I passed.
After the screening, we moved into dumbbell water walks: I was told to strap my goggles on, grab a set of 45-pounders and calmly walk from the shallow end to the deep end and back, a tortuous circle of hell. The idea is to use the breathwork we had learned to keep yourself calm even when you feel like you are going to die. I gave in to that feeling the first few rounds: panicking, fumbling the weights, scrambling for air. But slowly, I began to get the hang of it, moving surely and quickly under the water, using momentum and breath to propel me around the pool. It was invigorating.
Next was the actual workout. They call it a burner: The brick swim, five dry land dumbbell jumps, an underwater crossover followed by ten poolside muscle-ups, and then my newly beloved underwater dumbbell walk. I watched other guys handle it well: everyone had weak spots, sure, but they were getting it done gracefully.
When it was my turn, I made it to the dumbbell walk. But as I began to make my way back to the safety, the accumulated fatigue got to me, and panic set in. I dropped the weights and forced myself to the surface, where the crew had assembled to make sure I was O.K. I had been concerned that I was getting into some macho next level gym rat stuff, but I was surrounded by guys that wanted to help each other get better. As I fought to catch my breath, they wouldn’t let me quit. I went back under. My time was slow, but I finished. I have never felt so excellent while gasping for air.
It was clear that it was going to take more than one session to get the hang of working hard while submerged. But as I drove back in silence to my hotel from Topanga Canyon, I felt both depleted and invigorated. I had known my body was going to get punished, but it was my mind that was racing. I wanted to improve and apply these breathing techniques in my daily life—I knew I could smother that panicky urge if I worked at it, and then who knows what I’d be capable of.
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