It took 3 attempts before auto-correct finally let that title stand as is. And even now I’m not sure it’s right… But there it is, in all its glory, preserved for the annals of F3 history. What the hell it means is anyone’s guess.
Rowdy crowd of 6 this morning at Granny’s, (7, if you count the monster mosquito hawk that was making a racket during warmup and Mary). So rowdy that a bleary-eyed Chewy and I wondered what the hell was going on as we attempted to keep cadence count. I mean, sure, Jose wakes up ready for a fight. That makes sense – teaching junior high you gotta be on your toes and ready to knock someone down a rung or two. (Plus, he’s got the additional 20 minute drive of wake up time.) And now that Bush has become the new grumble grumble, well, let’s just say the back and forth between these two has become a joy to witness. Though it does make counting difficult.
Luckily, we quickly moved on to the thang, a semi-random circuit of increasing reps that spanned most of the trailhead:
– Derkins
– Step Ups (ea. leg)
– Lunges (2:1)
– T-merkins
– Donkey Kickoffs
– Crunchy Frogs
– Apollo Ohnos (2:1)
– SSH’s
– Freak Nasties
Each round ended with a set of x3 calf raises up the stairs, then start again, increasing the rep count by x5.
We mostly stuck together today, entertained by the barefoot Duke and his parkour moves. It was a big day for him, as he saw his net worth nearly double to $24.12 and, more importantly, learned the subtle distinction between the adjective demure and the verb to demur. Hard to believe one day we could be reading a backblast written by Wacker’s offspring. We can only hope he inherits his father’s love of flowery language.
And, of course, there were also the usual F3-type ramblings about Scientology, drinking vials of blood, moon landings – that sorta thing. Hey, Russo is right – the internet does indeed always win.
COT and Chewy prayed us out. Appreciate you gents, was fun to have a bigger group out there today.
