I, and many of my F3 brethren, have rolled in hot at the last minute, but never have I pushed the boundaries so far as to be tardy! Fortunately, between my text and flashing of brights from blocks away, Captain Sparkles and Shooter knew to wait for the Wacker. We pre-thanged a quick 2 mile run (despite what my mapmyrun app wanted us to believe) and were greeted upon our return by diesel fumes and over-cab lights of the man himself, Mr. Turtle (spoken in Shooter’s best imitative drawl). And just to prove that YHC is not the only man who suffers from an occasional bout of RBS, or “Runner’s Bowel Syndrome”, Captin Sparkles availed himself of the Marsh’s facilities while the rest of us, respecting the time, got down to it.
Thang:
Each man did a solo circuit of 25 merkins, 10 pull ups, 25 freak nasties, and 25 squats while the remaining jabronies were cranking out endless LBCs. Next, with tracking apps tracking, we mosied over to grandmother’s house where, while the restless crowd was planked up, each man took a turn to run the length of the covered area, up the tower stairs, back down, and returned to tag the next man. The next mosey took us back to the marsh…AUDIBLE…all the way to the lake front. YHC and Shooter pulled up to the water ready to plank up in anticipation of Captain Sparkles’ and Turtle’s arrival when we looked back to see we were all alone in the gloom. With nary a moment to spare, we dropped for 10 burpees each and got while the gettin’ was good. I believe the offical story had something to do with the amount of time remaining being insufficient for Mr. Turtle to make it there and back, and Captain Sparkles, always a shining example, adhered to the no man left behind policy that we hold so dear in F3.
We counted, we named, we prayed, we mumble chattered.
Thank you, gents, for stepping up this gloom to follow my humble lead….your abs can thank me tomorrow?
