Anybody can be a part of this free ‘Sandbag Saturdays’ exercise in Laguna Beach

By the time I reached the highest, my shoulders had been burning, my calves had been screaming and I may now not say precisely what number of steps I’d climbed.

On the best way down, I had counted 223. On the best way again up, balancing a sack throughout my again, I arrived at 225. I chalked the discrepancy as much as exhaustion.

The route at Thousand Steps Beach in South Laguna beneficial properties roughly 250 toes in elevation inside 1 / 4 mile from the sand to the best level of the Ninth Avenue hill. And I used to be one in all round 60 individuals making the climb repeatedly with sandbags weighing wherever from 5 to 50-plus kilos.

Co-creator Joey Finiguerra units out some gear earlier than the exercise begins.

A participant fills a bag with sand.

This was Sandbag Saturday, a free coaching session based by brothers Dante and Joey Finiguerra. There’s no registration required — attendees simply present up and seize one of many heavy-duty, polypropylene sacks the brothers present and fill it with as a lot seaside sand as they need. A conveyable baggage scale permits the extra severe athletes to maintain monitor of their progress week after week.

My quads and I had been intimidated. But it turned out to be one of many friendliest exercises I’ve ever performed.

The exercise acquired its begin in December 2023, when Dante, a former Navy SEAL and health coach, posted an invite on Instagram for what was initially imagined to be “Water Jug Saturday.” He inspired his followers to fill 5-gallon jugs and be a part of him and Joey, a triathlete, for military-style drills on the sand, within the water and up the steps and adjoining hill.

When a good friend identified some weighted baggage lining the trail on the backside of the staircase someday, the siblings shortly deserted the water jug concept. Sandbags had been simpler to sling over shoulders and steadiness on heads. And maybe simply as importantly, “Sandbag Saturday” rolled off the tongue so much higher.

Long earlier than Dante joined the army and Joey began operating marathons, Thousand Steps Beach was all the time the place they acquired their finest exercises. As youngsters rising up within the space, they climbed the staircase barefoot, sprinted the hill overlooking the Pacific and stretched their limbs on the shoreline. They spent nights tenting on the sand after lengthy days of browsing. Joey later proposed to his now-wife there.

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1. Participants prepare to walk down a hill. 2. A close-up of a sandbag. 3. The workout consists of hundreds of steps.

“The beach really has meaning to us,” Dante told me when asked about the workout’s origins. “From 18 to 22, I trained for the Navy here almost every day. I always wanted to come back and give this to the community and to anyone who I felt would appreciate it.”

After serving for nine years, Dante’s military background is evident in the fitness sessions he designs for Sandbag Saturdays. Participants perform duck walks, suitcase carries, bear crawls and overhead holds reminiscent of the log and boat carries in Marine boot camps. But despite its inspiration, the atmosphere couldn’t be further from the “Full Metal Jacket”-esque training days that might come to mind.

“We don’t do the typical hardcore yelling at you,” Joey told me before leading the group on a recent Saturday. “Everyone can go as slow or fast as they want.”

Participants run while carrying sandbags on their heads.

Among the regular participants are active-duty firefighters, lifeguards, professional boxers, National Guard personnel, yoga teachers and locals just looking for a fun way to get their cardio in. For some, the gatherings are family affairs. When I was there, Dante and Joey’s mother and sister joined in, and a handful of young children carried tiny sacks too.

“I think people see us and it looks like there’s a barrier of entry with the sandbags and all,” said Anthony Gudenau, who joins Sandbag Saturdays regularly. “But I’m amazed at the different types of people that show up regardless.”

The group’s growth might be due to the sense of inclusiveness that becomes especially noticeable on the staircase. While doing the steps myself, I noticed participants regularly inviting curious, inquiring beachgoers to join in the following weekend.

Running in sand adds to the challenge.

Everyone is encouraged to move at their own pace.

“I love how we all pump each other up when we pass one another going up and down,” said Carmen Benedick, a local who has attended every Saturday for the past six weeks. “It’s not unusual for strangers who aren’t even part of it to also encourage you. The sense of community is amazing.”

Perhaps that’s why so many people keep coming back. Sandbag Saturday has evolved into a kind of outdoor third place, where the endorphin-releasing workout is only part of the draw. For all the sore glutes and calves, what lingers most is the appeal of turning this into a weekend ritual.

“I just want to keep doing it for free every Saturday,” Dante told me. “As long as it’s bringing a positive force to people’s lives and making them feel proud for doing something extremely hard.”

When the morning finally wrapped up and the temperature started to climb, participants stacked their sandbags into a towering formation. A few climbed onto the pile to practice gymnastics-style balances while others headed into the water.

The workout includes bear crawls after running into the water.

Then, one by one, the bags were sliced open, and the sand spilled back onto the beach where it had come from. I grabbed my belongings and headed up those 223 — or maybe 225 — stairs one last time.