Quick Note:
Gentlemen, this beatdown was just hard. I appreciate and admire how each of you simply took care of business. Though Q-drenaline is real, I can say that when my tank is empty and my brain is lying to me, all I need to do is look around at the PAX to regain momentum. In my experience, there’s no amount of self discipline or mental toughness that can manufacture that last mile push. This is why the gym membership, by itself, will eventually fail.
If you have not Q’d a beatdown yet, get on the books. I promise you are READY.
The Blast
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Wednesday Night – 6:45 pm
YHC: “Hey Babe…can you come look at this beatdown design real quick?”
M: “Sure, I can’t think of anything else that would be a better use of our time while trying to get kids ready for bed.”
YHC: “I totally agree! Ok…do you think 200 burpees is too much?”
M: “Honey, we talked about this. You don’t make friends by trying to hurt them.”
YHC: “C’mon…it’s not like that…the guys will love this stuff.”
M: “Really? Doesn’t half of F3 Thiboduax go to the same chiropractor?”
YHC: “Umm. Actually, now that you mention it, yes…yes they do. Hey…do me a favor and don’t mention the Chiropractor thing to Paradox. He gets real sensitive about it.”
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Thursday Morning – 6:45 am
2.0: “Daddy, are you in here? I heard noises like a dinosaur. Why are you on the floor next to the potty”
YHC: “Hey, sweetheart. Yes, I’m fine. Daddy’s tummy is a little upset.”
2.0: “Why?”
YHC: “Daddy did a really hard workout this morning with lots of those burpee things I showed you.”
2.0: “Why?”
YHC: “I thought it would be fun.”
2.0: “It’s not fun to hurt your friends. Did you throw up on Mr. Enron again?”
YHC: “I did NOT throw up on Mr. Enron. How many times do I have to tell you?”
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The Inspiration
We are just mere days away from the best time of the year – The Iron Pax Challenge. The F3 Thibodaux draft class of 2023, as mentioned in prior blasts, has reshaped the PAX into a collective of bad, bad men…or bawzzz as it were – Michelin, French Horn, Michelin, Honeysuckle, America’s Best, Bone Thug, Safety Valve, and Dumbledore. This group of monsters have not experienced IPC’s path-altering power. I’m not sure about Popeye and Paradiddle since they are part of the F3 Thibby OG. Yeah, you know me.
IPC has a way of changing a man, breaking through and shattering the false ceilings of what he thinks he can or can’t do. Lil’ Cuz and Superfund as FNG’s, were (as Dox eloquently noted) “forged” in the IPC fires. Once a week in September, with pre-blast in hand, each man voluntarily embraces a level of such exertion that chatter simply vanishes and is replaced by venomous snark.
For those less familiar, I offer the following snapshot from various IPC beatdowns last year.
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After a few minutes, you’re already in pain. You start becoming confused. You can’t understand how any actual human can do this amount of man-makers (burpees with a coupon). You think back on the F3 Greenwood pre-blast video tutorials. Ben Gay, with a smug smirk, describes the week’s torture like it’s directions for making frozen pizza. He has a few jabronies jump into frame to demonstrate like THREE REPS of the various exercises. You hate their perfect Bonnie Blair form with their stupid pumping arms. You’re like, “C’mon… if I only had to do a few reps, I could bring my ass to the ground like a catcher on a coupon thruster too.” The hate starts to consume you.
You try not to drop your coupon on Enron’s toes after he comments on your inability to tell time (You’ll get your vengeance during the Skinny Runner IPC, watching him desperately try to use a jump rope). You see Montana waving frantically at the “we’re not worthy” station. Your legs are wet noodles, and you stumble across the field to change the song as BAPS very loudly blares that particularly offensive (and REPEATING) lyric in Rage’s “Killing in the Name.” Why? Because there’s a Family Fun Run at the Peltch. Moms are blushing. Kids are crying. Dads are moshing.
You’re out of breath…there is no side conversation. You see Cardinal toss his coupon 10 yards after each set, disgusted by the very nature of the beatdown design. You think to yourself that there hasn’t been something this awful since the casting tragedy for High King Peter in the Narnia movies. They might as well have cast Jar Jar. At least Jar Jar had a story arc of growth and purpose. King Peter enters the plot as a douche wagon…and well, upgrades to a minivan.
You look over, marveling at how Goose and Wet Tap can be so far ahead of everyone else…hoping deep down that you’ll catch them executing poor form. You hear ‘Lil Cuz lament that he should have taken the glove recommendation seriously, and yet he’s still plowing through with bloody, blistery hands. You know that Paradox typically takes off his shirt when a beatdown starts getting serious…about half way through. This day, you’re horrified to see him lose the shirt, and we’re only five minutes in. Instead of running between exercises, you’re shuffling like a prisoner with ankle cuffs on. It’s like the opening scene in “Saving Private Ryan.” Everything sounds warped like you’re underwater. You think, “ I can’t keep going…not even one more rep. Not one more step.”
But you’re wrong. You CAN do more reps. And you do them. Then time is called and it’s over. Suddenly, you love everything and everyone. You praise F3 Greenwood for their misunderstood creativity. You spit out endorphin laced Dad jokes and everyone laughs. It’s an emotional and physical rollercoaster. IPC is where YHC turned the corner in F3. I’ve been waiting so patiently. It really is the best time of the year.
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So….
The On Ramp
14 PAX showed up to the Den on a Thursday morning. Today was forecast to set heat index records. By 5:15 am, the heat index was already 90 degrees. The humidity was hovering around 70%. As French Horn would say, “Bruhhhh…it was nastayyy.” Before getting out of the douche wagon, America’s Best presented YHC with his ‘hot off the press’ prescription glasses. This exceptional customer service wouldn’t save him from the morning’s misery, but I did feel a little guilty if that counts for anything. The only other medical professional I’ve known that offers such unparalleled customer satisfaction is a Chiropractor in Raceland. (That noise you’re hearing? Bad words being yelled in Homerican…)
The PAX seemed oddly quiet. Was it because YHC’s subtle pre-hype about burpees wasn’t so subtle? Was it because they heard YHC talking to Goose about doing Goosey’s (bonnie blair with squat jump) as a MODIFICATION? Perhaps it was because the SV500 tank top club is super elitist and the rest of us felt left out. Who’s to say? With French Horn posting two days in a row, however, James Hetfield would insist nothing else matters.
Usual warmarama with some extra arm and hamstring stretches, then off to the lighted tennis/pickleball courts where BAPS awaited us with superior sound quality and epic beats.
Our rev up song was “Call On Me” by Eric Prydz. The PAX would do Burpees on “Call On Me,” recover in between. There were 51 burpee opportunities. At this point, there was still minimal chatter. The pace was fast between burpee triggers. In fact, “Call On Me” are the only words in the song. The men were beasts. YHC was not.
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The Thang
For the main event, we put together a deconstructed burpee with some core. The objective was to mimic the AMRAP nature of many IPC beatdowns. YHC would set the clock for 20 minutes and the PAX would complete as many rounds as possible in that time. Following the lead of Ben Gay, YHC demonstrated the various exercises in three-rep increments. The PAX was not pleased to learn that the actual rep count was 20 for each exercise. YHC did his best to soften the misery with a carefully curated EDM playlist.
The Deconstructed Jurpee – AMRAP rounds for 20 min. (goal of 5 rounds)
20 medium slow and low squats
20 groiners
20 merkins
20 groiners
20 jump squats with arms raised
20 LBC’s
20 leg raises
Per usual, I looked across the circle to see Goose, Wet Tap, and Pope breezing through the rounds. Honeysuckle looked almost bored, but sweating profusely, nonetheless. Smooth was grinding as always, shirt off, and knocking out merkins like it was nothin’. Safety Valve continues to impress and looks similar to Paradiddle with his methodical (and dare I say, perfect) form. Cardinal was straight up working! With a focused, stoic expression, he was not shying away from one of the things he hates most in life…the burpee (a close second to misguided telecommunications consumer choices).
Heck, even Montana’s form wasn’t criminal. All the more impressive considering that a burpee is not really conducive to being 6’ 7.” Every time YHC looked over at Paradox, he just “happened” to be doing leg raises, but I’m sure that’s just a coincidence. However, he was the biggest cheerleader of the playlist, which I genuinely appreciate considering I spent 45 minutes trying to find the perfect EDM cover of “Wellerman.”
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YHC called time and with six minutes left in the beatdown, two options were planned…Mary or another longish song with burpee triggers. It was safe to say that the AMRAP deconstructed burpee had served its purpose. Except for Pope, the rest of us were wet toast. I offered ONLY the latter option to the PAX. I have no doubt that internally, each of us thought it was as dumb an idea as remaking Willow. Lucasfilm, that’s enough. Haven’t you hurt society enough? Audibly though, to a man, all chose death over cake.
So, burpees for every male chorus response. 53 triggers to be exact. With the Pet Shop Boys reinvigorating our souls, the PAX did four minutes of “Go West” before time was called and we moseyed back to a sullen Aslan. No doubt lamenting his choice of High King.
COT, the ANIMAL and GiGi tanks were nowhere to be seen, and Goose prayed us out.
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Have a Cup of Jeaux
I’m going to leave this here…
Episodes 1 – 3 should be stricken from the record. Completely. Never happened. Do it again. George Lucas can hang out on set, but he gets zero input on the writing.
If you don’t know what Episodes 1 – 3 refers to, ignorance is literally bliss. If you liked Episodes 1 – 3, you’re probably High King Peter.
SYITG,
Jeaux
