By 2006, it had become painfully clear that the political and institutional powers in Galicia and Spain were determined to terminate the Fondo Natural project I had initiated in 2003. And yet, what might have seemed like failure from the outside became, in truth, the catalyst for one of the most intense periods of personal growth in my life. That three-year journey—full of dreams, negotiations, insights, and action—had transformed me. It convinced me that I needed to continue setting myself challenges that could not be blocked by external forces. So I posed myself a simple but radical question:
What is something I alone am fully responsible for?
That question planted the seed of an idea: breaking a Guinness World Record. Not for fame, but as a method—a discipline that would carry forward the spirit of Fondo Natural through other means. In contrast to the societal model that rewards specialization, conformity, and short-term achievement, I chose to explore the full range of my faculties through a solitary and holistic pursuit. And so, in my late 20s, rather than submitting the multidisciplinary experiences I had gained into narrow economic functions, I chose exile—from mainstream paths, from applause, and even from Galicia, my homeland. I was sustained by a deep inner compass. I had already learned, watching Maradona’s fall from popularity in the 1990 World Cup, that public recognition of talent was not a trustworthy guide. And I had begun to understand, through reading and reflection, that the real fruit of action lies not in the result but in the spirit behind it. A major turning point came through the discovery of Tai Chi’s eight principles, as eloquently presented by Spanish philosopher Antonio Medrano.
My collection of Antonio Medrano´s literature
Medrano´s work became a grail of sorts for me—pointing toward a form of embodied knowledge in which how something is done matters more than what is done. These principles deeply influenced my later writing in Operative Traditions, but at the time, they gave me a framework to begin using my own body as the material for transformation.
A Discipline Beyond Discipline
In 2007, I began training with one simple goal: to master the muscle-up. I approached the exercise not as a performance but as a meditative form. When I moved abroad, often living with extreme minimalism, I continued to practice quietly, focusing on breath, posture, and sensitivity. The more I reduced distractions, the more the exercise became a kind of dance between will and matter. Some days I felt like I had wings. I never trained more than 20 minutes a day. But over time, the spiritual concentration rooted in Tai Chi began to yield extraordinary results. In 2014, while living in the United States, I completed 26 consecutive muscle-ups—a feat that equaled the standing Guinness World Record at the time (See in following video)
I knew I could go further. But I also knew that chasing recognition could distort the very principle that had brought me that far: wei wu wei, or action without striving. So for the next four years, I continued training in silence. And in 2018, I reached my peak: 30 consecutive muscle-ups (See in following video)
But this wasn’t the end. It was the beginning of a deeper inquiry.
Transcending Biomechanical Limits
To my surprise, when I later reviewed my performance, I discovered that Guinness World Records would not accept my form, due to subtle leg motion (or “kipping”). I soon realized that my lower body—exceptionally developed from years of cycling and football—shifted my center of gravity in a way that made strict form harder to achieve under their biomechanical criteria. And yet, rather than seeing this as a failure, I took it as an invitation. If I couldn’t isolate my upper body to meet their form, what if I could integrate my full body’s strength into a new exercise?
One evening in 2019, in a modest “underground-type” local gym, I was practicing alone and began striking the boxing bag. The power of my punches stunned both me and those around me.
My gym-mates at that time. (I´m in the top-left)
It felt as though my entire being was moving through each strike. That’s when the idea emerged: Could I create a measurable movement that fuses stability, force, and momentum — one that reflects the totality of body-mind-spirit synergy? That’s how I discovered the chest-to-ground one-arm push-up with feet together—an exercise that emulates the transmission of whole-body energy, like a punch, and yet could be rigorously measured in biomechanical terms.
From Muscle-Ups to the Grounded Push-Up
This movement became the basis for my new challenge. In 2020, I formally submitted the proposal to Guinness World Records. It was approved in 2021. And what followed was not just a feat of strength —17 perfect reps of an exercise no one else has come close to — but the embodiment of a 12-year path of silent growth. A path that had begun in exile. A path that honored failure as a form of rebirth. A path that revealed the ultimate paradox: that by focusing less on performance, I had become far more efficient, resilient, and whole than any system or external standard could measure.
