You may think YHC is suffering from the winner’s dilemma: coming off a glorious victory and having to immediately ante back up. He’s spent all his physical, mental, and emotional energy just having been the greatest ever. He bottled lightning, there is no way to follow that. The people want more, the game is on the line, but his knees are weak, palms sweaty, and he’s wondering what in the hell he has left to give. Fear not, young padawan. For this YHC lives for the challenge.
In those moments, however, YHC could see how, for some other AO, a QIC could forget the shovel flag. But not at Bradford’s Ordinary. Not on the hard streets of Cary! No, that’s some skate-or-die, “peak of good living,” gleaming the cube bull right there. The pride of BO (and the esteemed leadership of site-Q Riptide aka High Hi-liter aka “I’ll show you a truck” aka “did you catch that NYE Miami 2003 run with George Clinton” aka the Pig Smoker) would prevent something like that from every happening here.
Yet the word is it happened elsewhere. No doubt, that QIC was distracted by the glory he knew was unfolding a mere six miles away. By the backblast he knew was coming. “Tuesday’s BB was the greatest BB ever,” he pondered as he moseyed back to his car, flagless, “and now, [YHC] is writing yet another one a mere two days later. How can I compete with that?” As they say on Hillsborough Street, my water winged friend, you cain’t.
16 PAX appeared to find YHC already running warmup laps, high on life, draped in sleeveless garb, ready to continue down the path of Greatness. The PAX joined, noting that YHC’s pace was not a Smokey Shuffle, or a mosey, or a jog, but a get the lead out run. And so it began.
With PAX panting, we circled. All waited anxiously. Rumors on social media had been flying. Had the Nantan really questioned the perfection of YHC’s prior post? What was it he said, something about a lack of NMS? Had Burt questioned YHC’s fealty to our most fearless, awesomest, bigly, media-tortured leader, the Don? What would be YHC’s response? Could he handle the pressure? Would he breakout in a peaceful “Turkey or die” sit-in? Oh no, my friends, at F3 we embrace the hate. Embrace it like PJ Hairston. And so an N-M-S and politics as usual beatdown began.
Nerkins, Mountain Climbers, and SSHs > one term of the Donald Trump > Nipplers, modified Morning Call, the Slugger (aka Run DMC), and of course, a Billy Run.
What is the Donald Trump you might be wondering. There is only one way to answer that. Go read the greatest backblast ever written, which is about the greatest workout to have ever happened. Alas, today’s BB could have been that caliber, but YHC is still struggling to figure out why so many PAX wore sleeves on Tanktop Thursday? Was it the 65 degree air? Was it your fear of the Nantan’s gun show aka better call the vet aka Mr. Beardless aka college boy aka Ring My Bell showing the PAX that you have weak girly arms? Was it due to the fact the PAX knew YHC would beat down said PAX causing the need for a fabric surface with which to wipe the sweat from said PAX’s brow? Was it because your mom picked out your work out clothes for you? Whatever it was, it has YHC distracted and disappointed. Maybe YHC just needs to go see Smokey.
Prayers for many, including CD’s mom, HK’s daughter, John, Ben, and Sputnik. Prayers for this great country, for its leaders, and for the people who work tirelessly to keep us safe.
Where in the hell is Billy? I miss that guy.