Fitness, Fellowship, Faith
Fitness, Fellowship, Faith
Deadwood, true to his name, ambled in at the last second, headlamp flickering like a disco ball on its last leg. “Well, isn’t it Mr. Punctual!” Pyro quipped, already eyeing Deadwood with that glint in his eye suggesting an explosive comeback.
Leading the pack through the thick Waxhaw woods was an adventure in itself. Deadwood, Shriver, Catfish, Chastain, and Paddington took the front, marching on at a relentless 14:50 pace. One would think they were racing against time to meet the sunrise.
Behind them, the rest of the group stumbled over roots and rocks, half-awake and cursing the decision to ever get up this early. “You swipe left on everything except a 5 a.m. ruck, huh?” Cartel snickered at Swipe Left, who was busy muttering about his online dating fiascos.
Posse, always the people’s person, tried to keep the morale high with jokes and encouragement, while Uhaul pulled out endless supplies from his rucksack—snacks, bandages, and even a tiny, foldable chair for anyone who needed a breather.
Cup of Noodles, Deadwood’s son, was chattering non-stop about his latest ramen recipe, clearly more excited about noodles than the morning hike. Walking next to him, Wrangler was just as talkative, sharing endless stories about his time taming wild mustangs and regaling Cup of Noodles with tales of his cowboy days.
Meanwhile, Pyro, having been told to “keep it simple” on the family photo, was plotting a way to incorporate at least one smoke bomb into their routine group shot.
McGruff, who decided that puffiness equaled warmth, trotted along, his vest making rustling noises every step of the way. “Ready to solve the mystery of why we’re doing this?” Chastain joked, nudging him.
As they pushed deeper into the forest, Cartel’s strategic mind couldn’t help but draw up tactical plans for no reason, while Swipe Left stumbled upon more than just roots—he found new ways to swipe left on nature too.
Finally, when the group reached the clearing, they were greeted by the first light of dawn, casting a golden hue over the exhausted faces and the ever-puffy vest of McGruff.
“You know, it’s mornings like these that make me appreciate staying in bed,” Posse sighed, yet smiling as they all gathered for the much-anticipated group photo.
McGruff, marshmallow vest and all, took his place in the middle, much to everyone’s amusement. Pyro subtly reached into his rucksack, only to be stopped by Deadwood with a firm, “Not today, Pyro.”
DW