I Was A Survivor Guinea Pig (And Had The Bruises And Scrapes To Prove It)

It's June of 2025, and I'm in Fiji standing at the starting mat of the premiere challenge for "Survivor 50." One would think that "competing" in a challenge when I'm not in the running to win $1 million would be a totally chill affair, but my heart is beating like a jackhammer. Series host Jeff Probst is standing there, cell phone in hand, recording us. The man in charge of creating the show's strenuous challenges, producer John Kirhoffer, is looking on, too, as are heaps of crew members. Oh, and the show's swarms of cameras? They're switched on and recording our every move.

All I can think in my anxiety-riddled brain is: Don't get hurt. Don't embarrass yourself. And how the hell am I going to get up that wall?!

Heading out to location to interview Probst, the cast, and producers (check out some of TVLine's pre-season coverage here), members of the press knew we'd be testing out a few of Season 50's early challenges. And stepping inside a show I've been watching ever since I was a kid? Kind of a big deal.

But that damn wall, man. 

I know the task ahead will be arduous, but I'm still not prepared for the burning scrapes, monstrous bruises, and the bits of blood we shed in the process. Thankfully, we journalists are paired with young and mighty members of the Dream Team, the buff 20-somethings that test all of the challenges so that if anything doesn't go according to plan, tweaks can be made before the cast rolls in. And thank the "Survivor" gods that we have them. Standing at the mat, the anticipation of hearing Probst yell, "Survivors ready?" is excruciating. While I had been training a wee bit with my Peloton pals Denis Morton and Tunde Oyeneyin, I'm still feeling jet-lagged and mentally taxed from the 30+ interviews I'd conducted in just a couple days' time. But when Probst yells, "Go!" we all scramble up the cargo net. As we flip over the other side, a couple of us tweak an ankle on the way down. Great start for a bunch of writers who are definitely out of their element.

As I enter the mud crawl, the rope squeezes my bulky body making it difficult — but not impossible — to move. My sneakers struggle to gain any footing as my already slippery arms grab the netting and pull it backwards over my top half — an attempt to avoid getting suctioned to the bottom of the pit. (I feel not unlike a fish out of water flopping on a sidewalk, except here I am, a well-fed piglet experiencing his first mud bath.) Little do I know how much the sloppy goop will complicate what lies ahead.

A lot can change from what the Dream Team faces and what you eventually see on screen. At one of the challenge stages, we have a large vat of water that we use mid-challenge to rinse our arms and faces. That water eventually will be removed for the cast. The coconuts inside the large cages will also be modified. Some of the massive fruits will be removed, and many will be placed in large bags that can be tossed out as one (very heavy) piece. But when some of my teammates jump inside the cage to empty them out, the task is way more difficult and time-consuming than it will wind up looking in the episode. (Testing these challenges also helps the crew determine the right blocking and other technical aspects for when the cast shows up to compete.)

The Dream Teamers, like the pros they are, instruct us to rub wood chips from a now-destroyed box all over our arms to dry our slippery skin in preparation for the wall. Genius in theory, but it doesn't solve all of our mud issues. Because what is ahead of us is the thing I never wanted to face. As the monkey's fist is pulled, the wall falls in sections with a few deafening THUD-THUD-THUDs. And that's when the struggle really begins. (One thing you didn't see in the premiere: The person who threw the monkey's fist also had to remove all the ropes from the rope gate in front of them. That's why Cirie struggled so hard when trying to make the throw. Players couldn't simply toss it underhanded because the ropes would block such an easy throw. But removing the ropes was understandably cut for time.)

When you're standing in front of the wall, it's beyond daunting. The cast makes it look easy to launch everyone up and over. Later in the week, when we'll watch Cila run it, they'll make up a lot of time after the Cirie debacle. But Spoiler Alert, my friends: I am not a Joe, Jonathan, Ozzy, or Colby. Despite having tree-trunk legs thanks to being a lifelong skier, I am about to suffer some serious consequences of perpetually skipping arm day.

The Dream Teamers, bless their hearts, hoist me high enough to reach their comrades above. I swing my right leg over the top railing, trying desperately to raise my hip up, so I can roll my hefty frame onto the platform, praying to Probst that I don't plummet horizontally to the ground below. (I don't know if there's a precedent for a journalist to get MedEvac'd, but luckily, I also don't have to find out.) I pull, pull, pull (and get pulled), and eventually reach safety.

I cannot stress enough how much the mud affects things. The same gritty substance we are warned not to rub in our eyes slices up every single limb as my skin scrapes against the wall's hard surface. But the job is not finished. Not by a long shot. As I help pull up my fellow press and CBS friends from the top, the hard wooden plank cuts my knees like a knife. 

Every shower I'll take for the next week-and-a-half will burn beyond belief. I can already barely bend my knees without a good deal of difficulty. But what price is pain when I have a "Survivor" set visit story for the ages? (When I later FaceTime my wife, Emily, I grin like an idiot as I show her one gross wound after another. My broken body is so impressive that Probst, Kirhoffer, and EP Matt Van Wagenen even comment on it in amazement, and, dare I say respect?)

I don't exactly volunteer for the puzzle. It is more like my overwhelmed and nearly paralyzed self stands quietly by with a dumb look on my face as everyone else volunteers for other stages of the challenge. But at the end of our strategy sesh, the puzzle is the last thing left. What I completely underestimate is how gassed I'll be by the time I get up the wall. Helping pull everyone up is no easy feat, and instead of standing at the mat and cheerleading, I now face that wild, kajillion-piece premiere puzzle. We are only shown a photo of what the puzzle looks like for a few seconds before we begin, but once I get up to the top, that image is both deleted and emptied from my brain's trash folder. In fact, my internal hard drive feels like it's already been taken out back and beaten with a bat, "Office Space" style. 

A Dream Teamer and I race to pick up the pieces, which shockingly weigh about 10 pounds each. (Way heavier than I imagined!) These pieces do not slide in easily. They often need to be pounded or shimmied in. Sometimes, already-placed pieces on the sides need to be re-configured in order to make room for their neighbors. By this time, Probst makes his way to the top of the platform, and even though he's continuing to film us, my mind is in panic mode. I'm not playing for a million dollars, but the pressure feels immense. The detail of the palm trees on the puzzle pieces is something to which I don't pay close enough attention. And from our side of things, the number 50 has to be backwards so that it looks right to the cameras. Everyone's screaming suggestions; deciphering which of those voices are coming from my actual teammates is a challenge, in and of itself. The purple tribe finishes the puzzle, followed by orange, and I am left, puzzle piece in hand. Devastated. A big ol' loser. (We are close-ish though, and we finish it after the fact, just for funsies.)

As we traverse Mana island's most slippery rocks ever to rinse our filthy bodies in the ocean, the stoke is high. We can't believe what we just got to experience. Joker-sized smiles are glued to our faces for the remainder of the trip. We knew "Survivor" challenges would be no cake-walk, but our very first attempt was far more taxing than we ever could've imagined — and we were well-fed and well-rested! "I can't imagine doing that after not eating and sleeping for days," every single one of us said at one point.

So if you ever run into a hater who tries to tell you "Survivor" is fake, point them in my direction. I've got the battle scars and photographic evidence to prove otherwise. And if any readers out there find themselves booking a flight to Fiji's Mamanuca Islands to rendezvous with Probst for a future season, take deep breaths, practice some puzzles, and prepare to be put through the wringer. You've got this!

Just don't skip the weight bench beforehand.