Fitness, Fellowship, Faith
Fitness, Fellowship, Faith
This morning was epicly hard…….There’s Dunkin, the Krispy Kreme defector; Deadwood, whose name was probably cooler on HBO; Zinfandel, the beer lover with an unhealthy obsession; Dasher, who thinks he’s fast; Uhaul, who’s probably just here for the free truck rental; Kermit, the frog fanatic; Blackhat, the mystery man; and Hatchet, whose name we still haven’t figured out, but hey, it works.
Every man carried a 30lb rucksack, a sandbag, and two kettlebells for the entire torturous session. Deadwood, always one to show off, brought a 50lb kettlebell and a couple of sandbags for good measure. Zinfandel, not one to be outdone, carried a 60lb sandbag and two kettlebells, clearly aiming for some sort of “Beast Mode” award.
We started at the top of the stadium, descending with all our gear, like clumsy, overburdened Spartans, to the track. Once there, we dropped our sandbags and made a lap with our rucks and kettlebells. Naturally, Deadwood’s shoulders decided they’d had enough at the 200-yard mark, leading to an unplanned ab workout because why not?
Back to the gear, we trudged up the steps, across the press box, and down the other set of stairs. Cue Zinfandel, who, powered by yesterday’s broga (bro-yoga) session or his ox-like shoulders, sped ahead like he was auditioning for a “Strongest Man Alive” competition. Seriously, it was like watching a muscle-bound superhero in action.
When we finally dropped our gear again, we jogged a lap with just our 30lb rucks, feeling absurdly feather-light. But just as we thought we had the rhythm down, Dasher erupted in a meltdown. “Where the heck is my 60lb sandbag?” he bellowed. After a quick and oh-so-polite investigation, we realized Dasher had probably been lugging around a 40lb bag all morning, but his overworked brain turned it into a 60lb delusion.
And then, there was Hatchet. The poor guy grabbed a sandbag from the edge of the football field, which, in a delightful twist, leaked sand all over him like some sort of faulty hourglass. By the end of the workout, Hatchet looked like he’d rolled around in a sandbox. If there were a prize for “Most Covered in Sand,” Hatchet would win hands down.
Meanwhile, our little hero Kermit, the 10-year-old prodigy, stood in the shadows with his 10lb plate carrier, outlasting us all with the determination of a young warrior. This kid gets up at 4:30 AM to work out with grown men and is definitely going places.
No one talked; everyone worked, and each lap brought us closer to the sweet release of exhaustion. And that, my friends, is how we conquered a morning of mayhem, muscle madness, and, of course, the great sandbag debacle.
