I don’t think it’s a surprise to anyone that YHC enjoys digging into the kinds of interpersonal dynamics that bring about surprising chemical, pscychological, emotional, and spiritual reactions. Like, why are we willing to undergo so much physical stress and call it fun when someone else is doing it with us for no reason to bad 80’s music? Why do we push so hard just because everyone else is? What moves us? What causes us to fear and move into self-preservation? What causes us to let go of our calculations and abandon ourselves to something bigger, even if that something is just a bunch of other goofballs crawling around sweating in the grass in the dark?
The question we’d be covering today was “Why are we constantly wondering how we measure up to the men around us?” Like, why do we subconsciously measure one another to the point where we have a pretty good sense of where we stand in the pecking order of performance for pretty much every exercise? And, in whatever field/type of exercise where we don’t exactly know how we measure up, we are very motivated to find out.
YHC was interested in breaking this down, to see how each man responded to the measuring process, and what that challenge did to his effort. The results were fascinating.
After a substantial warmup including Lafayette Nightclubs (sans pelvic thrusts, for most of us), old school, clapping grass-grabbers, and carioca and skip running to the sidewalk and back, we completed yet another new kind of Indian Run. (YHC has been loving the creativity with these, so wanted to keep that train going, and knew we’d be sprinting with tight legs, so…) We took the mile track around Rich Man’s Loop and through Financially Stable Man’s Alley with the last man running back to the previous light pole before catching up to the front. Yes, this was a gamble, and yes, it led to a lot of running for some, especially Paradox, who ended up having to run the length of the alley approximately three times.
Upon arrival back at the flag, YHC announced we’d be doing merkins to failure, but each man had to do more merkins than the guy to his left, otherwise he’d incur a 10 burpee penalty. And, you got to pick who you stood next to in line. Starting with Safety Valve, each man in turn chose a place in line where he thought he could do more merkins than the man to his left and less than the man on his right. Choices were made quickly–confirmation that each man already knows his place in the pecking order, or at least thinks he does.
The only exception to this was Smooth Operator, who constantly reveals a deep, yet lighthearted appreciation for being challenged. He chose the front of the line, the strongest position, every single time. He wanted a reason to push hard, and he wanted the burpees. Seriously. He wasn’t just looking for attention. He loves being in over his head–it lights him up in a way that reveals a deep strength, a deep stability. It’s incredible to witness.
Here were the exercises we got to (about half the ones on YHC’s list):
-Merkins
-Sprint (from AB’s truck to the Stop sign)
-Plank
-Overhead Press (coupons)
For the merkins, the second half of the line monitored the first half for form and counting, then flip-flopped. There were definitely some miscalculations there, but nothing egregious. Most were at least within 5 of their expectations.
The sprint was another story. I guess we just don’t do this enough, and when we do, we’re so focused on the guy we’re trying to beat or on our own need for oxygen that we don’t get a solid bead on the men around us. Cuz, Lil Cuz was lined up as second slowest, and when he blasted off the line in a powerful, white blur, all PAX knew they had chosen poorly. YHC thought later that it might have been better to have all run at once in order to have each be motivated by beating the man next to him, but we would have missed something special. The chance to watch each of the PAX powerfully give it all for almost 100 meters was a sight to behold. These are men we know, respect, and care about, so to witness each one in turn in full effect, at 100% capacity, really did something to the heart.
This was followed by plank to failure. We chose our places in line, per usual, and then got into plank position, staggered, head to head with the men next to us. YHC didn’t know what to expect on this one, but the rest of the PAX seemed to. Safety Valve and AB lined up in what seemed to be pretty confident positions near the front (just behind Smooth), and after three or four minutes, were still planking. Paradox won his first of two awards for one-liners when he, noticing that two eye doctors were planking head to head to the death, said something about removing the plank from your brother’s eye. AB eventually melted in the face of quiet, smiling confidence, and only one or two guys had to do burpees.
The overhead press was squeezed in with three minutes left, and after the planks and merkins, this proved to be a killer. Brains and shoulders were mush, as made clear by the amount of burpees owed afterward, so YHC just decided all would complete the 10 penalty burpees to transition us into a panting COT.
The rugby shirt of competition was given to Valve for his impressive holdout in the eye-plank stare-down. YHC thought he was clever in offering the temporary nickname Plankopotamus, but Dox countered with his second award-winning line of the day, Plank Williams, Jr. (YHC is comfortable in my place in the pecking order, being the one who says things that are funny enough but really just serve as fodder for Dox’s wit cannon.)
Thanks for being willing lab rats in the pitre dish of the sweaty test tube of the Bunsen muscle burner of the exerscience lab of man-fun.
SYITG,
Goose
