Fitness, Fellowship, Faith
Fitness, Fellowship, Faith
In the small town of Waxhaw, under the dim glow of early morning light, an unlikely crew assembled for their dawn adventure. Deadwood, who’d earned his nickname for his penchant for wooden art, led the pack with his carved walking stick in hand. Right behind him was Zinfandel, the ever-enthusiastic beer connoisseur. Jitterbug jittered nervously next to Carbload, who always carried snacks for the journey. Chicken Little, ever the worrywart, kept casting anxious glances at the sky, as if expecting it to fall. Bringing up the rear was Glidah, who moved so gracefully it seemed like she was floating.
“We hit all the hills today, folks,” Deadwood announced, checking his smartwatch. “No slacking!”
They charged ahead, tackling the first hill with gusto. Deadwood inspired the group with tales of his latest masterpiece. Jitterbug tried to keep up while muttering dance steps under his breath, occasionally bursting into impromptu moves.
Carbload, always prepared, handed out energy bars. “Got to keep our strength up for the big one,” he said, pointing to the monstrous hill at the end of the road. Chicken Little gasped, momentarily distracted from his sky-watching.
“It’s darker than usual,” Chicken Little whispered. “I’m sure I saw something move in the shadows.”
“Nonsense,” Glidah replied with a serene smile. “Just stay focused.”
The crew continued their run, each step bringing them closer to the infamous hill. Without the dreaded burpee train to slow them down, their pace was swift. As they neared the hill, Jitterbug’s energy reached a peak. He broke into a dance routine, spinning and twisting as if the morning itself had possessed him.
“Jitterbug, save some of that energy for the climb!” Zinfandel laughed.
Finally, they stood at the base of the hill. Deadwood took a deep breath. “Alright, crew. This is it. Let’s show this hill who’s boss.”
With a collective cheer, they charged up the hill. Deadwood’s determination, Zinfandel’s endurance, Jitterbug’s unpredictable moves, Carbload’s nutrition strategy, Chicken Little’s cautious optimism, and Glidah’s effortless grace—all combined to conquer the climb.
As they reached the top, panting and sweaty, they shared a moment of triumph. “We did it!” Carbload shouted, waving a granola bar in the air.
Chicken Little looked around, relieved. “And the sky didn’t fall.”
The Waxhaw Crew laughed together, basking in their victory. It was a wild morning run, but they wouldn’t have had it any other way.
*The End*