YHC thought it appropriate to capitalize on the cardio boost most of the PAX have experienced as a result of participating in the May Challenge as well as the increase in tenacity and mental toughness. And, stepping down the intensity could be a slippery slope. Only one way to go! DEATH!!
It is YHC’s understanding that in the earliest days of Christianity, when they would baptize someone, they would bring them to a river, put them all the way under water, and then hold them there until they started to panic and fight before bringing them up. This was to give the baptizee a real, felt experience of the reality of death in the process of receiving the gift of new life. Any taste of the reality of your own mortality changes you, grounds you, and shines new, clearer light on all the other aspects of your life.
So, what better day than a day in which we’re proud of what we’ve accomplished, what we’ve built over the month of May, to feel our own mortality.
We started with a warmup of the usuals along with some Willie Mays Hayes before Indian running (regular type) up the levee, around half the lake, and onto the tennis courts. In a nod to Dox, YHC brought along Oontz and a sea shanty about the death of an honored general (“General Taylor” by Great Big Sea). This was where YHC realized that Oontz hadn’t somehow gained strength by resting him for a few months. This didn’t bode well for what was to come.
On the tennis courts, the PAX waited patiently while YHC and Pope set up yet another Bleep Test, once again measuring wrongly, too short this time (that first lap felt way too easy), though after the beatdown looking back, I’m sure many were grateful for the rest.
Once we finally got it right, Oontz was fired up–he already seemed nervous during the Indian Run, and without JBL or BAPS available, I could tell he also felt like the benchwarmer who had been called up after everyone else caught the stomach bug or something. His bleeps were barely audible despite multiple threats and ridicule, but the game went on, and the PAX performed exceedingly well.
The first few times we did this, most PAX didn’t make it out of the 30’s (number of lengths run, not official Bleep Test scoring, which is weird). Last time, at The Stage, most didn’t start falling away until the 40’s and some into the 50’s. Today, though, there was not one PAX who dropped off until around 60. No joke. Once out, the rules were you had to plank up or complete 25 merkins (or Big Boys) to buy your way back in, which they did. We ultimately finished at 70, blowing our numbers from two weeks ago (or so) out of the water. I think it was because of the hype speech YHC was giving while measuring (and remeasuring): men who fought in battles, who sprinted across fields toward enemies who were sprinting at them, who rode into hand to hand combat with no fear of death or knowledge of the outcome, who still bust down doors with no certainty of what’s behind them, at some point stopped trying to calculate their odds of survival. They didn’t self-evaluate to see how tired they were or wonder how much longer they could endure; they just moved. And, today, we grew in our ability to let go of wondering how much more we can do, in our ability to push off the temptation to say, “Ok, but only 3 or 2 or 1 more of these.” We still, of course, have a long way to go, which is why the 2nd thang was what it was.
After multiple 10-counts, we moseyed back to the Lion, picked up our blocks, and moved to the sidewalk. We lined up and YHC explained that we would be doing 11’s: bicep curls on this end and tricep curls at the next (20-25 yards). Transportation would be lunge walks (with coupon) there and rifle carry back. YHC heard a couple of groans, saw some mouths drop open, and in a couple of faces, just blank surrender–the decision to just enter into the pain without trying to measure it, cuz, hey, who of us actually deserves ease and comfort?
The first few laps were hard, which YHC expected–muscles gotta wake up and get with the program. After 5 or 6, YHC could feel the temptation to modify it to 7’s instead of 11’s, but then I remembered the many times I just kept pushing, grinding one more lap, then another, without wondering how many more I could take, not giving myself the choice to stop, and it’s amazing how much further you can go when you stop giving yourself a way out. We had the time, so we just kept going. And the rest of the PAX did, too. It was a beautiful thing to see.
We finished right at 6:00, but the pride and gratitude of what we had just accomplished together (and over the past month) didn’t hit until after about 4 or 5 minutes (after the heart rate dropped back down to normal). There was no Animal shirt (or GiGi), but the each man’s performances could’ve easily earned it. (YHC was waiting for French to crush another coupon, and was a little disappointed that he didn’t. Three in a row would’ve been epic.)
COT and French Horn prayed us out–safe travels for the many out this weekend and gratitude for what we’ve been given. YHC is certainly grateful for the men who posted this morning and shared a healthy little taste of death. Nothing binds you together as brothers better than that!
SYITG,
Goose
