38 degrees and clear. 12 men showed up for a little old school fun. And it was an old school kind of crew, what with the likes of Burt, Coney, Riptide, Shut-In, and McCants, but with a splash of slightly newer blood like Hermes, Flip Flop, Lookout, Blowout, Viewmaster, and Happy Gilmore. All in all, a solid group, of which I was the slowest PAX.
YHC planned an impeccable Q last week at Shakin’ Not Stirred. It was ambitious, but delightful. A perfect mix of distance, cardio, and full body strength work. And it went off without a hitch.
This week? Well, if I’m being honest with you, this week sucked the life outta me. Mammon has been oppressively chaotic lately and by the time it gets to Thursday or Friday each week, I find my mental acuity has diminished drastically. So Thursday night as I sat on my couch, staring blankly at the curtain covering the window, a plan just refused to come to mind. My thoughts drifted back to work, or a conversation with the M, or the thing I was supposed to do two days ago that I still hadn’t found five minutes to do yet. Another few minutes of my mind wandering aimlessly passed by and still with no plan, I found myself checking that one thing from two days ago off my list. At least I accomplished one thing today.
Pulling into the parking lot and facing a group who deserved my very best, I grew slightly uncomfortable with the thought that I might actually bomb this Q. For those who know me well, I’ve never bombed anything F3-related. Never. Not even once. Not even at a 2nd F event. Not even in front of dozens of people with four pages of typed single-space notes holding a microphone and standing atop a speaker case sweating my ass off in a goofy sweater. Never.
You know what’s great about F3 though? As soon as knuckleheads like Burt and McCants started making jokes, or when Shut-In and Riptide took subtle shots at YHC poking fun, any nerves or discomfort dissipated. Who cares if I bomb this Q? These guys are family. They don’t care if I suck it up. There just happy to be here, just like me.
With that out of the way, I was freed to lead.
WARM UP
Run the pickle uno vez, stopping near the restrooms for:
SSH
Good Mornings
Sir Fazios
Seal Claps
Overhead Claps
Fazio Sirs (nope, hate that)
Squats
THANG #1
11s. Cuz we’re men. None of this 7s bull****. Pull-ups at the playground near Smurf Island and Dips at the shelter. Twas a good time suck.
THANG #2
11s again. Or at least that was the goal. We ran over to the stairs through the woods for LBCs at the bottom and Big Boy Situps at the bottom. I think we may have only gotten through 7 rounds. Either way, it was hard.
MARY
LBCs
Pickle Pounders (courtesy of Shut-In)
Hello Dolly (hey boo)
COT
Count-o-rama: 12 heroes
Name-o-rama: still 12. 1 honor, 2 respects, rest of us were meh
Announcements: I don’t remember, I just know someone made an announcement and then the guys started goofing off so I said “any other real announcements?” and was promptly crucified. These guys are ruthless
Prayers/Praises: Handful of prayers for friends and family in tough situations with health-related concerns. Praises for a pair of HIPs (high impact people) who sacrificed time and energy to care for McCants great uncle without being asked or anyone else knowing. May we all be more like them.
YHC took us out.
NMS
What more can I say? This thang is already too long.
But I will say this…Coney’s coffee is the best in Carpex.
Hermes made a half-assed attempt to say the coffee at SWW is hotter because they brew it during the workout, and therefore it’s somehow better? I don’t know, he wasn’t making a lot of sense this morning.
Hermes back at the original OA that named him just felt so very right. Got a little tingle in my spine when I saw his truck pull into the lot.
That’s all I got. See yas soon