In Defense of the 100 Rep Snatch Test

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In Defense of the 100 Rep Snatch Test

Back in the early days of kettlebell certifications there was much debate around the 100 rep snatch test. Apart from vodka and pickle juice, many of the devout sincerely believed this physical assessment was the coolest and hardest thing ever to come out of Soviet Russia — a way of obtaining an exclusive and shiny badge of honor that one could flaunt about at their thirty five year high school reunion. Finally, some prestige. A way to get the respect one so rightly deserves. Say it with me now: I am no longer that mealy-mouthed kid in high school band puffing my face behind a trumpet. No, not the kid with red hair. That was Steven. He was first trumpet. The one next to him — to his left. Either way, I am now a thoroughgoing, battled-hardened man’s man who successfully passed that one weekend-long kettlebell instructor seminar which I must annoyingly convince everybody who doesn’t know what that is (which is… everybody) is a really tough and strenuous thing. Damnit! 

Others, however, asserted quiet loudly that the 100 hundred rep snatch was an unnecessary barrier to entry for people who were otherwise competent coaches, and perhaps blocked people from entering the community who might have been extremely valuable to have, and so many friendly folk were left combing their hipster handle bar mustache and reading psychology textbooks until some organization came along that did not have such stringent physical requirements.

Regardless of where you fall on that opinion spectrum, here is what I have always liked about the snatch test: It shows that you care. And this, I believe, is something which been somewhat lost on society today: the value of good ol’ fashioned hard work; the kind where you simply spit on your hands and stay on the job until the task is accomplished. And not merely because you hope to win at something or obtain some gold starred piece of paper that says “good job!”, but because you see the value in the very hustle itself. Knowing it’s as much about the process as where you wind up.

Years back, when I was contracted to work with MARSOC (did I also mention my uncle is a doctor?), I remember driving eight hours in a van full of other coaches, and as soon as we got out we were expected to perform — and pass — the snatch test. Everybody in the van knew that was what was going to happen before dinner; like washing our hands and saying our prayers. It showed we cared about something; or at least that we cared somewhat. The rationale was that if we were going to be the ones training special forces — people who hunt terrorists, and stuff — then that didn’t seem like too much to ask. (That said, we didn’t actually have to perform the snatch test, after all. Don’t ask me why. I think it was more of a mental thing. Or maybe it was the humidity.)

The one hundred rep snatch test — 100 reps in 5 minutes with 24kg for men; 16kg for women, in case you cared to know — is something not a lot of people, not even a lot of very fit people, can pass without some prior preparation. It forces you to practice. And that’s a good thing.

It shows that you care.

It’s an outward, explicit signal that you’re willing to dedicate yourself to a process and demonstrate a bit of tenacity. It is a reflection, in some ways, of character. Because even if you don’t pass the test itself, there is something admirable in the effort and something valuable to be learned in trying.

And speaking of trying: I have just personally committed to the challenge of learning Linus and Lucy (Peanuts theme – duh, duh duh…duh, duh, duh… duhh duhh) on the piano. I mentioned the other week how I have decided to pick up piano at a later age, which is surely something I intend to flaunt at my thirty five year highschool reunion. This all happened by accident, by the way, when my wife signed my son up for piano lessons, and didn’t realize the instructor was expecting me to take them, as well. So now here I am, everyday, like an honest Patriot, practicing Amazing Grace at sixty five beats per minute before the pork chops are ready and I am called to supper.

I’m pursuing Linus and Lucy because I heard it on the radio riding home the other day from Church, and I’m going to be frank. I have found this piano tune to be far more difficult than tossing a 24kg kettlebell overhead one hundred times. It’s a different kind of difficult, to be certain, but I suspect it will take considerably more time and effort on my part to competently perform this little, silly cartoon theme song than it did to originally obtain my kettlebell certification. And this is a beginner’s tune, from what I am told. How do you think that makes me feel?

I’ll tell you how it makes me feel.

Excited.

And maybe a little slow.

But mostly excited.

Truth is, most people can generally work up to passing the snatch test with three days of specific training per week — a speed day, a power day, and a volume day — and a fair amount of generalist strength training between. It doesn’t have to be complicated, and it’s better if it’s not. Give that approach 3 – 5 months and you’ll get there, so long as you assertively — but intelligently — push the intensity.

But having a sense of perspective can also help. Because chances are you’ve probably put a lot of effort into some big project before, whether that’s learning a piano song or training for some ridiculous outdoor race where people try to electrocute you. Writers know about this. So do musicians and athletes. Obviously special forces do too. Most of us have put considerable time and effort into achieving something, at least once in our lives. So why is this suddenly lost when it comes to strength training? Why is it people are so quick to program hop rather than commit to a steady and proven effective process?

Maybe schooling is to blame? The current education system? If you’ll allow the codger to offer his opinion, it seems that rather than studying out of an earnest enthusiasm to become genuinely erudite (or at the very least, civilized), many kids merely get in the habit of cramming before a test, and then forget pretty much everything they know within a year of graduating with their degree in hospitality and tourism — or worse, entrepreneurship. (Friend, if you want to start a business, then start a business. Watch some Youtube videos. But please do not go into tens — possibly hundreds — of thousands of dollars of debt to get a flimsy piece of paper for this. Email me first, OK? Promise?)

Whatever the reason may be, I am immensely surprised at how seldom people are really able to focus and practice at something, and then stick with it. To sit down and do the work. To simply chug along and allow the process to take hold. To grind. To hustle. Whatever you want to call it. And to do so without constantly checking Facebook or texting their best friend Sally Sue. Where has that ability gone?

A main point I make in my book How to Be Better at (Almost) Everything, and some people thought I was being facetious about this, but I wasn’t, is that if you want to get good at something, you actually and really do have to practice at it. (Say whaaaat?)

You can’t just sit around and fart all day and then complain that you still suck at things. Believe it or not: This is actually news to people. Some people, anyway. But not you. Oh, of course not!

Never you ; )

And certainly never me!

But surely, and whether I feel the snatch test is particularly reflective of any person’s coaching ability (I’m not sure that it is, but neither am I sure that it was ever intended to be), I have little sympathy to share for anybody who first protests the assignment before giving it their earnest try.

– Pat

PS – For 101 FREE  (and crazy-tough) kettlebell workouts go here:

http://www.101kettlebellworkouts.com