The Facebook founder has bragging rights when it comes to the infamous Murph challenge, one of the toughest tests of stamina. What happened when Hannah Evans tried to beat him?
There are lots of interesting numbers associated with Mark Zuckerberg: 93.9 — how many billions of dollars he’s got stashed; six — the hours of sleep he apparently only needs a night; 600 — the number of questions he endured when he went to Washington in 2018 to be interrogated by the Senate.
Now there’s a new one: 39.58 — the number of minutes and seconds he took to complete the infamous Murph challenge, a gruelling fitness workout mixing running, pull-ups, squats and push-ups. He did it nearly two weeks ago and proudly posted a sweaty macho selfie of himself on Instagram afterwards.
If you are a gym obsessive, like me, the word “Murph” will make you tremble just at the mention. It’s generally considered the hardest workout in the world.
It starts with a 1 mile (1.6 kilometre) run, followed by 100 pull-ups, then 200 push-ups, 300 squats, rounded off with another 1 mile run. You do the whole thing wearing a weighted vest, which looks a little like a stab vest, but is filled with sand and metal plates — 9kg for men, 6kg for women. Ya know, for fun.
The challenge is the ultimate test of fitness for gym bros — a big, muscly declaration that you are strong and hard, like doing a Tough Mudder but inside and without the slight aura of going through a midlife crisis. Murph relies on a combination of strength, gymnastics and cardiovascular stamina, hence the claim of its leading proponents to fitness supremacy.
Ridiculous as that might sound, there’s something in it. Murph was named after a US Navy Seal, Lieutenant Michael Murphy, who was killed in action in 2005, Apparently, this was his favourite workout, and so fitness obsessives around the world, including Zuckerberg, do it on Memorial Day (May 29) each year around the world, because what better way to commemorate a war hero than with some solidarity squats?
It’s also a CrossFit workout, CrossFit being the incredibly popular form of exercise that has 15,000 affiliated gyms around the world filled with diehard exercise junkies lifting, squatting and lunging their way though its workouts.
A respectable time to finish Murph is anything under an hour. So yes, it’s pretty impressive that Zuckerberg finished in 39 minutes 58 seconds.
Now I consider myself pretty into my exercise. I’ve run marathons and I go to the gym most days. Working out is an embarrassingly large part of my personality. But until now, I’ve steered clear of Murph.
All the people at my CrossFit gym in south London do the workout each year, and they take it very, very seriously. They don’t smile or talk to each other. They only occasionally shout out random phrases like “Stay hard” — one of the mottos of the Insta-famous athlete and motivator David Goggins. The men see the weight vest (which they wear over bare chests) as a badge of honour, the gym equivalent of driving around in a flashy car or wearing a blingy watch. It’s a way to let other men — and women — know that they mean business. This all put me right off the workout — no thanks, too macho for me.
Besides, while I can rely on my running and I’ve got pretty strong legs, my upper body is like a wobbly blancmange. My arms look more like the Peperami sticks I used to get in my lunchbox than the bulging biceps they have.
The Zuck factor
So this year, when May 29 — a bank holiday this year in the UK — rolled around I used the excuse that I was away. “I’m having a rest day,” I told my gym friends. “Next year.”
But then I saw Zuckerberg’s post on Instagram and, well, I felt a bit bitter. If he — basically just a squillionaire computer nerd — could do it, surely so could I? And according to his Instagram caption, he did it with his two oldest daughters, both under the age of 10. And he’s old — almost 40. I’m 10 years younger than him, a spring chicken.
Plus, I had advice from my good friend Hunter McIntyre, who currently holds the Murph world record, completing it in 34 minutes 13 seconds.
McIntyre and I, naturally, met at the gym, a huge underground studio in central London called Wit, which is basically like the church of CrossFit. He won’t mind me saying this but he is a muscle maniac. He chops down trees in his spare time and chucking logs is one of his favourite hobbies. He lives in a cabin in the woods in an area of California called Big Bear Lake and has a blond curly mullet. He earns a living winning competitions around the world like Murph. He’s lovely, charming and absolutely mad about the gym. Surely I was at an advantage?
There are two ways to do the Murph workout: with a weighted vest and RX (gym talk for “as written”), which means you do all the pull-ups, then all the press-ups, then all the squats. The general census among the men I know is that if you’re ‘ard, you don’t complain and you wear the bloody vest.
Or you can do it partitioned, which is more popular among my girlfriends and what I’m hoping McIntyre will suggest I do. This is without the vest and with the exercises broken down into sets of five or 10.
“If you’ve never tried Murph before I’d advise that you don’t go straight into the full challenge with a weight vest,” McIntyre tells me when I frantically seek his advice. “Due to the large amount of gymnastics movements in the workout [he’s talking about the pull-ups] there is the potential to create some serious muscle damage that in someone who isn’t used to a lot of volume could result in painful soreness the next day.”
I pretend to sound disappointed. “If the big man says so,” I tell him with a faux defeated tone. Secretly, I’m thrilled. Anything to make it easier.
McIntyre’s parting tip relates to the first run. “Don’t kill yourself on this section. This is a very small part of a very long workout. You want to finish this run breathing hard but still being able to talk in short sentences.”
On reflection, I think as I make my way down to my gym, the benefit of doing Murph as part of a pack on May 29 is that you have the competition and adrenaline of other Murphers to drive you on. When I’m tackling it, I’m on my own. All I have is the image of Zuckerberg’s sweaty selfie burnt into my brain to keep me going.
Still, I’m thankful my gym is almost empty when I arrive. The lunch class has finished and everyone has filtered out. There’s just a lone personal trainer tidying up. I put down my water bottle and head outside for the opening mile.
Gym purgatory
Overexcited, I set off way too fast, McIntyre’s advice flying out the window. “I feel great,” I think. “I’ve got loads in the tank. I love Murph.”
By the time I’m back, mile complete, I’m paying the price. I’m gasping. All I can think of is Zuckerberg’s voice in my mind, smugly saying, “I told you so.”
Then it’s on to the pull-ups. You’re meant to get your chin above the bar for each rep, but I settle for nose vaguely near the bar, my face going dark purple every time I pull myself up. After five, I slide onto the floor.
But the clock is ticking. I’m almost 10 minutes in and I’ve got triple figures left. “Must. Beat. Zuckerberg,” I tell myself as I clamber up off the floor and get into the push-up position.
The first set of push-ups I do on my knees with ease, and then move on to the squats, before back to the pull-ups. It’s a humbling experience. How are people so strong? My slippery hands slide off the bars and my grip weakens every time I pull myself up.
The push-ups quickly become the hardest exercise. Forget the burning triceps — my lower back is what kills as I snake up off the floor, not to mention my hands, which are filthy from the gym floor.
I keep cycling between the three moves, like I’m stuck in a sweaty gym purgatory.
After what feels like days, I tick off all the exercises. I’m not sure if I’m still alive, but I have one final mile to go.
By this point, running feels like moving through thick treacle. The mile feels like a marathon — and I know what that feels like. My thighs are on fire and feel like they’ve been filled with cement. I feel like I’m running just as fast as last time, but then I get overtaken by a woman who is clearly on her way back from work, and she’s walking.
I complete Murph in 49 minutes. That’s 10 whole minutes more than Zuckerberg, 15 slower than McIntyre. I am exhausted and covered in dirt. There’s not a puddle but a small reservoir of sweat in the corner of the gym I’m set up in.
I can now say I’ve Murphed. I can also say I’m never taking fitness inspiration from the tech billionaire again.
Are you tough enough? Nine extreme workouts
By Georgina Roberts
You run 156 miles across sand dunes, rocks and salt plains in the Moroccan Sahara as temperatures reach up to 50C. The 1000 racers must carry all the water and supplies they need for the six-day race.
What AC/DC’s Highway to Hell blares out at the start line every year — fitting for a Saharan desert survival of the fittest.
Who Explorer Sir Ranulph Fiennes ran it when he was 71, but don’t be fooled. It’s for top-tier athletes.
How fit do you need to be? Extremely. It’s the equivalent of running more than five marathons in six days.
The DW (canoeing Devizes to Westminster)
Over Easter weekend, the world’s longest non-stop canoe race begins in Wiltshire and ends under Westminster Bridge. Only senior doubles crews — there are five classes in total — are allowed to paddle throughout the day and night until they finish, 125 miles later.
What Makes the Oxford v Cambridge Boat Race look easy. Racers have to pass through 77 locks.
Who Anyone who has a canoe or kayak in the garage.
How fit do you need to be? Some crews will be paddling non-stop for 24 hours, so you have to have more experience on the water than hiring a pedalo on holiday.
Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc, Chamonix, France
The trail run takes between 20 and 46 hours to complete. The 106-mile route takes elite and amateur runners through the Alps in France, Italy and Switzerland. They face challenging terrain and 10,000 metres of elevation gain.
What See three countries, sweating, on foot.
Who Some of the world’s most experienced runners compete, but can’t finish.
How fit do you need to be? Forty per cent of competitors drop out.
Tough Mudder, around the UK
An extremely muddy assault course.
What Mud bath. Banned from a London park in April for causing too much damage.
Who Thrill-seekers who have a really good stain remover.
How fit do you need to be? Fit enough to wade through an ice pit and scale a 40-foot net.
Each year, non-professional cyclists follow the same route as the hardest stage of the Tour de France. This July, they will attempt stage 14, between Annemasse and Morzine, near Geneva. It is 97 miles and has more than 4,100m of elevation gain.
What See how you fare on the hardest stage of the Tour de France.
Who Mark Cavendish aficionados who scream when they watch the Tour de France.
How fit do you need to be? Riders are eliminated if they fall too far behind schedule.
Swim Serpentine, London
An open-water swim through the Serpentine in London’s Hyde Park. Thousands compete across four distances.
What Splash about in the lake where Olympic swimmers and triathletes competed in 2012.
Who Cold-water swimming obsessives.
How fit do you need to be? You’re a member of your local swimming club. The shortest race is half a lap of the lake, or half a mile.
Haute Route Alps, France
The multi-stage race takes riders 2000m above sea level. The route, from Megève to Nice, features many famous climbs. The cost of entry includes daily post-ride massages and meals.
What The holy grail of amateur cycling, a 470-mile mountain climb through France.
Who You have around £1750 (about NZ$3582) to spare and want to cycle for seven days straight.
How fit do you need to be? Considered to be the hardest amateur race in the world.
A workout inspired by ultra-runner David Goggins. Run four miles, every four hours, for 48 hours. That’s a total of 48 miles, close to the length of an ultramarathon.
What Work out like Goggins — motto: “Don’t stop when you’re tired. Stop when you’re done.”
Who Popular with Goggins’s 6.8 million Instagram followers, who no doubt want to become as ripped as he looks in his countless shirtless posts.
How fit do you need to be? An internet craze, but on Instagram Goggins has said non-runners should walk or jog for 45-60 minutes.
Set a number of calories and complete that amount of work each minute, every minute, for 20 minutes. Do 1 minute of rowing, 1 minute on a SkiErg machine, 1 minute on an Assault bike, then rest for 1 minute. Rinse and repeat.
What Calorie-obliterating workout named after Finnish CrossFit Games winner Mikko Salo.
Who People who have a gym membership.
How fit do you need to be? Need to be familiar with CrossFit workouts and have access to specialist equipment.
Written by: Hannah Evans
© The Times of London