The Mental Game That Took My ACFT from 380 to 540

I had a full-blown panic attack 20 minutes before my first ACFT.

Not an exaggeration. My hands were shaking, my heart was racing, and I genuinely considered faking an injury to get out of it. I’d trained my ass off for three months—I was physically ready. But mentally? I was a wreck.

I ended up scoring 380 points. Barely passing. And the worst part? I knew I was capable of way more. My body didn’t fail me that day—my mind did.

Fast forward to six months later: same physical fitness level (maybe slightly better), but I scored 540 points. What changed? I finally figured out that the ACFT is as much a mental test as it is a physical one.

If you’re training hard but still struggling on test day, or if you get anxious before big events, this guide is for you. I’m going to share the exact mental strategies that helped me add 160 points to my score without getting significantly stronger.

The Day My Mind Betrayed Me (And What I Learned)

Let me paint you a picture of my first ACFT disaster.

I walked up to the deadlift bar feeling confident. I’d been pulling 240 pounds in training easily. Test day comes, and I psyched myself out so badly that I could barely hit 200 pounds. My grip was shaking, my form fell apart, and I walked away with 70 points when I should’ve scored 85+.

The hand-release push-ups? I was so worried about “passing” that I couldn’t get into a rhythm. I kept counting reps in my head, panicking that I wouldn’t hit the minimum. Finished with 42 reps when I’d been doing 55 in training.

By the time I got to the two-mile run, I was mentally destroyed. I kept thinking about how badly I’d messed up the earlier events. Ran an 18:15 when I’d been hitting 16:45 in training.

That’s when it hit me: my training was fine. My mental game was garbage.

What “Mental Toughness” Actually Means (Hint: It’s Not What You Think)

Everyone talks about mental toughness like it’s some magical trait you either have or don’t. That’s bullshit.

Mental toughness for the ACFT isn’t about being some unbreakable warrior who feels no pain. It’s about having strategies to manage your brain when it starts working against you.

Because here’s what nobody tells you: your brain is wired to protect you from discomfort. When you’re holding a plank and your core is burning, your brain screams “STOP THIS RIGHT NOW.” When you’re halfway through the Sprint-Drag-Carry and your legs are dying, your brain tries to convince you that slowing down is reasonable.

Mental toughness is just having tools to tell your brain “I hear you, but we’re finishing this.”

That’s it. Not superhuman willpower—just practical strategies.

The Visualization Thing That Actually Works (And Isn’t Weird)

I used to think visualization was some hippie nonsense. Then I tried it out of desperation before my second ACFT.

Here’s what I did: every night for two weeks before the test, I’d spend 10 minutes lying in bed with my eyes closed, mentally rehearsing each event. Not just seeing it—really feeling it.

I’d imagine gripping the deadlift bar, feeling the cold metal, smelling the rubber mats. I’d visualize my setup, the pull, the successful lift. Then the medicine ball in my hands, the explosive throw, watching it sail 10+ meters.

Sounds stupid, right? But here’s what happened on test day: everything felt familiar. I’d “done” the test 14 times already in my head. My brain didn’t freak out because this wasn’t new territory.

The key is making it detailed. Don’t just picture yourself succeeding—imagine the sounds, the smells, the feeling of fatigue in your muscles. Your brain can’t tell the difference between a vivid visualization and a real memory.

I added 20+ points across multiple events just by getting my brain comfortable with the test environment before I ever showed up.

The Goal-Setting Mistake That Cost Me 50 Points

Before my first test, my goal was simple: “Do my best.”

Know what’s wrong with that goal? It’s meaningless. “My best” is whatever happens. It gives you no roadmap, no target, nothing to aim for.

Before my second test, I got specific. For each event, I set three numbers:

Minimum: The score I’d be disappointed with (but acceptable) Target: The score I genuinely believed I could hit Stretch: The score that would require everything going right

For example, my deadlift goals were:

• Minimum: 220 pounds (76 points)
• Target: 240 pounds (84 points)
• Stretch: 260 pounds (92 points)

This did two things: it gave me a clear target to visualize, and it took pressure off. If I hit my target, I was successful. If I hit my stretch goal, that was a bonus.

I hit my target on four events and my stretch goal on two. My vague “do my best” goal from the first test? That got me 380 points. My specific goals? 540 points.

Coincidence? I don’t think so.

How I Stopped Freaking Out Before Tests

The night before my first ACFT, I didn’t sleep. I was lying in bed running through worst-case scenarios: What if I fail the deadlift? What if I can’t finish the Sprint-Drag-Carry? What if everyone sees me struggle?

Classic anxiety spiral. And it absolutely destroyed my performance the next day.

I learned a breathing trick from a guy in my unit who used to be a competitive powerlifter. It’s called box breathing, and it sounds simple but it works.

Here’s how it goes: breathe in for 4 seconds, hold for 4 seconds, breathe out for 4 seconds, hold for 4 seconds. Repeat five times.

I started doing this whenever I felt anxiety creeping in during training. Then I used it the night before my second test, and again right before I stepped up to the deadlift bar.

It works because it physically activates your body’s relaxation response. You can’t be in full panic mode when you’re breathing slowly and deeply. It’s like hitting a reset button on your nervous system.

Now I use it before every event. Five rounds of box breathing, then I’m good to go. Takes maybe 90 seconds, but it’s worth at least 20 points across all events.

The Event-by-Event Mental Strategy That Actually Works

Here’s the thing about the ACFT: each event needs a different mental approach. Treating them all the same is a mistake I made initially.

Deadlift: Calm Confidence

This is a strength and technique event. Getting amped up doesn’t help—you need controlled aggression.

My routine now: three deep breaths, visualize the successful lift, tell myself “strong and stable,” then grip and rip.

I used to rush my setup because I was nervous. Now I take my time. The test isn’t timed, so there’s no reason to hurry. I get my feet positioned perfectly, my grip set, my hips at the right height. Only then do I pull.

This mental shift alone added 20 pounds to my test-day deadlift.

Standing Power Throw: Controlled Explosion

This event is the opposite of the deadlift. You need to channel aggression and explosive energy.

I get loud on this one. Before my throw, I’m literally telling myself “EXPLODE, EXPLODE, EXPLODE” in my head. I’m visualizing the ball flying 12 meters. I’m feeling the rage.

Sounds ridiculous, but it works. I went from throwing 7.5 meters to consistently hitting 10+ meters, and at least half of that improvement was mental.

The throw happens in two seconds. You can’t overthink it. You need to shut off your analytical brain and just move explosively.

Hand-Release Push-Ups: Break It Into Chunks

This is where mental strategy makes the biggest difference.

If you think “I need to do 60 push-ups,” you’re going to psyche yourself out halfway through. Your brain sees that as one massive, exhausting task.

Instead, I break it into sets of 10. “Okay, give me 10 good reps.” Then rest in the up position for 3 seconds. “Now give me 10 more.” Repeat until done.

It’s the same number of push-ups, but mentally it feels way more manageable. I’m not doing 60—I’m doing 10, six times.

I also count out loud (or in my head) on each rep. The rhythm keeps me from speeding up and burning out early.

This mental approach took me from 42 reps to 58 reps in about six weeks. My upper body strength barely improved—I just stopped sabotaging myself mentally.

Sprint-Drag-Carry: One Movement at a Time

The SDC is brutal. It’s five different movements back-to-back with zero rest. The natural instinct is to think about all five parts at once, which is overwhelming.

I learned to focus only on the movement I’m currently doing. When I’m sprinting, I’m not thinking about the sled drag. When I’m dragging the sled, I’m not thinking about the carry.

Present-moment focus only. The second I start thinking ahead, I slow down.

I also use aggressive self-talk on this event. Not negative (“Don’t quit”), but forceful positive (“MOVE. DRIVE. GO.”). I’m basically yelling at myself internally to keep pushing.

My SDC time dropped from 2:48 to 2:03 using this strategy. That’s 20 points gained just by managing my mental state better.

Plank: Embrace the Suck

The plank is 90% mental. Your core can handle way more than you think. It’s your mind that quits first.

My strategy: I pick a spot on the ground about two feet in front of me and stare at it. I don’t look at the timer. I don’t look around. Just that one spot.

Then I count my breaths. Slow, controlled breathing. Each exhale is one count. When I hit 50 breaths, I know I’m over two minutes. When I hit 80 breaths, I know I’m over three minutes.

The clock lies to you during a plank. It feels like five minutes have passed when it’s only been 90 seconds. Counting breaths gives me an accurate sense of time without obsessing over the clock.

When my core starts burning (and it will), I tell myself “this feeling is temporary, but my score is permanent.” Cheesy? Yes. Effective? Also yes.

I went from 2:15 to 4:00+ using this exact strategy. My core strength improved some, but the mental approach was 70% of that gain.

Two-Mile Run: Quarter by Quarter

By the time you hit the run, you’re gassed. Your legs are wrecked from the SDC. Your core is fried from the plank. This is where mental toughness matters most.

I break the run into four 800-meter segments. I’m not running two miles—I’m running four separate 800s.

First 800: Controlled pace, don’t blow up. Tell myself “stay smooth, stay relaxed.”

Second 800: Maintain pace, fight the urge to slow down. Tell myself “you’re halfway, keep moving.”

Third 800: This is where it gets hard. Tell myself “one more after this, you’ve got this.”

Final 800: Empty the tank. Tell myself “sprint the last 400, finish strong.”

Breaking it into quarters makes it mentally manageable. Four 800s feel easier than one two-mile run, even though it’s the exact same distance.

I also had to learn to manage negative thoughts during the run. Because they come. “This hurts too much.” “I can’t keep this pace.” “Everyone’s faster than me.”

When these thoughts show up, I acknowledge them (“Okay, my legs are tired”) and then let them go. I don’t argue with them or try to suppress them. I just notice them and move on.

This took practice, but it works. My run time dropped from 18:15 to 15:30, and at least half of that was mental.

The Training Hack That Built Mental Toughness

Here’s something I started doing that changed everything: deliberate discomfort training.

Once a week, I’d push myself beyond what was comfortable. Not in a reckless way—just past the point where my brain was telling me to stop.

Holding a plank? Add 30 more seconds after I wanted to quit.

Doing push-ups? Add 10 more reps after I hit my target number.

Running? Add one more 400-meter interval after my planned workout was done.

This taught my brain that I could do more than I thought. It proved to me that the “I can’t” voice in my head was lying.

On test day, when that voice showed up (“You can’t hold this plank any longer”), I already knew from experience that I could. I’d practiced ignoring that voice for months.

This is how you build real mental toughness—not through motivational speeches, but through repeatedly proving to yourself that you’re capable of more.

The Night Before: What I Wish I’d Known

The night before my first ACFT, I tried to cram in mental preparation. I visualized for an hour, reviewed my goals obsessively, and stressed about the next day.

Big mistake. Your mind needs rest just like your body.

Now, the night before a test, I do a five-minute visualization session (max), then I’m done. I watch a movie, play video games, hang out with friends—anything to get my mind off the test.

I also avoid other soldiers who want to talk about the ACFT. I don’t need to hear about how nervous everyone is or compare training notes. That just amps up my anxiety.

The work is done by the night before. Trust your preparation, relax your mind, get good sleep. Stressing doesn’t improve your score—it just makes you tired.

The Transition Time Strategy Nobody Talks About

Between events, you have a few minutes to recover and prepare for the next one. Most soldiers waste this time or use it to stress about the previous event.

I use this time strategically:

Step 1: Deep breathing. Five rounds of box breathing to calm my nervous system.

Step 2: Physical reset. Shake out my arms and legs, jump up and down a few times.

Step 3: Mental reset. Visualize the next event. Remind myself of my specific goal for that event.

Step 4: Let go of the last event. Whether it went well or poorly, it’s over. Can’t change it.

This routine takes maybe two minutes, but it keeps me focused and prevents me from spiraling mentally if an event goes badly.

I’ve seen soldiers bomb one event, then let that mental defeat ruin the next three events. The ACFT is six separate tests. You can have a bad deadlift and still crush the run.

When Test Day Goes Sideways (And How to Handle It)

My second ACFT didn’t go perfectly. The weather was way hotter than expected. I slipped during the sled drag and lost three seconds. Another soldier was way faster than me on the run, which messed with my head.

But I scored 540 points because I had a plan for handling unexpected stuff.

The plan is simple: acknowledge, adapt, proceed.

Acknowledge: “Okay, the weather is hot. That’s the reality.”

Adapt: “I’ll adjust my pacing and hydrate more between events.”

Proceed: “Now let’s move on and execute.”

You get maybe 10 seconds to process the unexpected thing, then you move forward. No dwelling, no complaining, no spiraling.

I also learned to stop comparing myself to other soldiers during the test. Some guy deadlifted 320 pounds? Good for him. Doesn’t change my plan.

Comparison kills focus. Keep your eyes on your lane, execute your strategy, and let everyone else worry about themselves.

The Confidence Trick That Actually Works

Positive affirmations alone don’t build confidence. Telling yourself “I’m strong” when you don’t believe it doesn’t help.

Real confidence comes from evidence.

Before my second ACFT, I kept a training log. Every time I hit a PR or accomplished something hard in training, I wrote it down.

Before the test, I reviewed this log. “I pulled 250 pounds three times last week. I ran 15:45 after a full SDC simulation. I held a plank for 3:45 last Tuesday.”

That’s not fake confidence—that’s evidence-based confidence. My body had already done these things. I had proof.

When doubt crept in on test day (“Can I really do this?”), I reminded myself of the evidence. Yes, I could. I’d already proven it repeatedly.

Build your confidence through preparation and evidence, not through wishful thinking.

What Worked vs. What Didn’t (The Honest Truth)

What worked:

• Specific goals for each event
• Box breathing before and between events
• Breaking events into smaller chunks mentally
• Visualization practice (10 minutes daily for two weeks)
• Deliberate discomfort training once a week
• Evidence-based confidence from tracking progress

What didn’t work:

• Trying to “psych myself up” with loud music (made me more anxious)
• Caffeine on test day (made me jittery, hurt my plank)
• Overthinking my strategy the night before (disrupted sleep)
• Comparing myself to other soldiers (killed my focus)
• Trying to be mentally tough through sheer willpower (unsustainable)

The strategies that worked were practical and repeatable. The ones that didn’t were based on trying to force a mental state that wasn’t natural for me.

Figure out what works for YOUR brain, not what works for someone else.

The Real Talk About Mental Training

Here’s what I wish someone had told me before my first ACFT:

Mental training isn’t about becoming a different person. You don’t need to turn into some ultra-motivated, fearless warrior.

Mental training is about having tools to manage your brain when it tries to sabotage you. That’s it.

You’ll still feel nervous before tests. You’ll still experience doubt and discomfort during events. The difference is you’ll have strategies to handle those feelings instead of being controlled by them.

I still get anxious before the ACFT. But now I know what to do with that anxiety. I breathe, I visualize, I focus on my goals. The anxiety doesn’t disappear—I just don’t let it wreck my performance.

Final Thoughts: The 160-Point Gap Was All Mental

Looking back at my 380-point test versus my 540-point test, my physical fitness didn’t change dramatically. I got maybe 5% stronger and 5% faster.

But my mental game improved 100%.

I learned to visualize effectively. I set specific goals. I developed strategies for each event. I practiced managing discomfort. I built evidence-based confidence.

Those mental tools added 160 points to my score.

If you’re physically prepared but still struggling, the problem probably isn’t your body. It’s your mental approach.

Start incorporating these strategies into your training now. Practice them when the stakes are low so they’re automatic when the stakes are high.

Your mind is either your biggest asset or your biggest obstacle on test day. Train it accordingly.

Now stop reading and go practice some box breathing.

Stay strong—mentally and physically.