A colder-than-average morning combined with the observance of “Evil and Unjust Colonial Invasion of the Homelands Rightfully Owned by Loving and Peaceful Indigenous Persons'” holiday led to only 5 Pax posting this morning.
Actually, it was more “silently implied.”
To be more precise, it was “not spoken out loud.”
Mostly because I forgot to give it.
Mosey to the playground, where YHC commenced to misname EVERY SINGLE WARMUP exercise:
10 Weed Pickers (not “Cotton Pickers”)
10 Hill Billy’s (can’t remember what I called it)
10 Toy soliders (not “Tin Soliders”)
10 Windmills (not “Abe Vigodas”)
Grab a lifting coupon, mosey to the wooden steps by the steep hill.
Teams of 2: 1 Pax curls while the other Pax sprints up the steps, then back down the hill. Then swap places.
Rinse and repeat with: Skull crushers then bench presses.
Battle ropes: American Hammers, Backward Lateral Slams
Clean up the mess, back to steep hill, pick up rocks, return to playground.
Much confusion regarding the temporary AWOL of Tubbs. Much conjecture on what he could possibly be doing, all by himself, in the dark, at 6am in a public park. However, out beloved Tubbs was found, safe and sound, and the group….well….re-grouped again.
Burpee quiz re: mission of F3.
Mosey to flag, Mary to the 6.
YHC waxed poetic on how truly grateful he is for the existence of F3 and the men of The Wreck.