Home is the place where, when you have to go there they have to take you in.
-Robert Frost
So Thursday at the scramble there was no Ocho. Other than that, I don’t remember too many specifics. Now I know why there’s a lot of back blasts that never get written – because, after being delayed for a day or 3, the Q can’t remember what went down… no excuse!
THE THANG (I THINK)
25 merks
20 hi knees
25 merks
20 windmills
THE SCRAMBLE
As we ran our traditional route, I was observant of a few things. Number 1, The Hermitage subdivision, otherwise known as “the loop”, has become a very busy pre-dawn venue for fitness-minded nonresidents, especially random F3 brothers who ambush you during your run (not Capatin Sparkles this time). Number 2, If you want a premier example of what being consistent with F3 can do, look no further than our brother Sprockett. Although he had already been crowned with his F3 moniker by the time I first met him, he was fresh to the scramble. He has made serious progress in his performance levels. T claps to Sprockett! Number 3, though the tide may ebb and flow, no matter how much we F3 attack the refuse that lay in our paths, we will never eradicate the litter problem of Old Mandeville.
POST SCRAMBLE
Upon completion of our mighty 5K, it was core time. YHC has decided to bring back the ab assault to the people. Now as for this day, it’s already been mentioned that memories can fade quickly, and this is being written a full 39 hours after the end of the glorious beatdown of which YHC speaks, but there was a strenuous count of twist crunches, a lovely series of supermans and bananas (a la P90X/Chewy), and finally a run of putins.
COT
Many thanks to Burgundy for your solid message to send us out to face the day (Better late than never).
