As a fitness journalist, I've faced challenges from Olympians and champion boxers. But nothing prepared me for the sheer, unrelenting pace of a training session with Aimee Cringle, a 26-year-old from the Isle of Man ranked among the planet's fittest athletes. The experience left me face down in a pool of sweat, my muscles screaming, and my ego thoroughly checked.
The Warning Signs Before the Workout Began
It all started with a drive to Worcester, home to an unexpected hub of elite fitness talent at Blueprint Training. The gym's co-founder, Will Kane, explained that top athletes like Cringle had naturally migrated there, creating a unique environment where everyday members train alongside world-class competitors.
I was invited to shadow Cringle on what she described as a "chilled" session, a label she applied with characteristic humility. "This is just to keep things ticking over," she told me, downplaying her efforts ahead of a World Fitness Project competition. This modesty, however, was quickly flagged as deceptive. Fellow CrossFit Games athlete Harry Lightfoot grinned as he offered a crucial warning: "She'll take you for a ride." He was, as I would discover, absolutely right.
The Gruelling 30-Minute AMRAP Battle
After a warm-up, Cringle outlined the workout: three separate 10-minute AMRAP (As Many Rounds As Possible) circuits, performed back-to-back with no rest. Each blended punishing cardio with complex gymnastic movements.
The first circuit involved a 12-calorie SkiErg, a 50ft sled push with 80kg, and eight bar muscle-ups. I started strong, keeping pace on the SkiErg and sled. But the muscle-ups, where you must pull your entire torso above the bar, exposed the chasm between us. Cringle powered through eight flawless reps without pause. I managed five, then two on my next attempt, my shoulders already failing. By the 10-minute mark, she had completed at least five full rounds to my four. Her relentless, Terminator-like pace was unnerving.
The second circuit was my undoing. It comprised 15 calories on a BikeErg, the same 80kg sled push, and eight wall-facing handstand press-ups. Exhaustion from the first round crippled my shoulders. While Cringle cartwheeled into a handstand and knocked out her press-ups with ease, I collapsed to the floor after a few pathetic attempts. Scaling back to two per round did nothing to stop her from smoking me.
The final circuit was a mercifully shoulder-sparing mix of SkiErg, 25 toes-to-bar, and BikeErg. By now, I was toast. Cringle glided between stations like a Ferrari, while I lumbered along like a push-bike. I reduced the toes-to-bar target to 10 and clung on, finishing a distant second but somehow surviving the full 30 minutes of hell.
Lessons Learned From an Elite Athlete
The session served as a stark, public benchmark of elite fitness. My key takeaway was Cringle's flawless movement efficiency. Every rep was executed with perfect, energy-saving form, turning gruelling exercises into sustainable efforts. This underscores a universal truth: prioritising technique is crucial for progress, whether you're a beginner or a pro.
Secondly, the power of environment was undeniable. Training alongside Cringle pushed me far harder than I would have gone alone. The accountability and camaraderie at Blueprint Training, where a rising tide lifts all boats, is a potent catalyst for improvement. For those not in Worcester, it's a compelling case for finding a training partner or joining a class.
As for Cringle, after our 30-minute onslaught, she casually moved on to accessory work—GHD extensions, cossack squats, plank holds—looking fresh. I, meanwhile, was a broken man, having learned a valuable, if painful, lesson. You can train with the best, but be prepared to be humbled by just how good they really are.
