12 men (big and little) gathered courageously at The Peltch for the final, brutal IPC of 2024. For one in particular, it took a lot of courage: the soon-to-be-named L-loyd, Safety Valve’s FNG 2.0, Peyton saw a circle of large, surly men grunting through the dark morning’s tightness, one of whom was wearing what looked to be a woman’s tank top, and he was reluctant to jump in. So was YHC, but not Duke–he was the opposite of reluctant this morning, and he ran to make friends with the other similar sized human form in the gloom, and they warmed up in mini 2.0 fashion about 20 yards away.
Eventually, unable to push off the inevitable any longer, we gathered the gear and headed to the track. The IPC went like this:
8 rounds, 5 minutes apiece: 200 m run, 30 reps of a given exercise, 200m run, and then burpees till the end of the 5 minutes. Count your total burpee reps over the 8 rounds for your “score”. The exercises were as follows:
Round 1: Freddy Mercurys
2: Pickle Pounders
3: Flutter Kicks
4. Plank Jacks
5. Monkey Humpers
6. Squats
7. LBC’s
8. SSH
Spirits were still high for Round 1 as the PAX mumblechattered their way around the track, the mini 2.0’s sprinted ahead, and all completed more burpees in 2.5 minutes than they expected to. Round 2 on went about as expected: mumblechatter was greatly reduced, the carefully curated playlist became just background noise, Honeysuckle stayed about 40-50 yards ahead of the pack, the mini 2.0’s played imaginary football (or something) on the field, and everything but counts sank into the brain fog.
Despite the threat of takeover from the survival instinct, YHC still had the wherewithal to notice the awesome effort of every man out there, including the medium 2.0s. Nobody walked, and the majority stayed ahead of YHC on the track pushing hard the entire time, keeping the bar high, and not saving anything for the ride home.
Admittedly, YHC was having a hard time performing at any kind of heroic level. The runs were the much needed breaks, and catching up to the front runners felt impossible. And, with only one glove, YHC quickly followed Valve’s lead in taking advantage of the (little bit) softer turf to avoid the cheese grater that the track was on the hands during burpees. His performance (and later Dox’s) right next to me was impressive, as was Honeysuckle’s and everyone who started doing burpees ahead of YHC (which was everyone but Smooth, who remains impressive in his ability to joyfully accept and own the things that are killing him, which usually include lots of running and burpees. Here’s to the clydesdales.).
After round 8, YHC flopped to the ground drinking in the free oxygen before Dox hauled me back to vertical position from which I could see a yard sale of heaving bodies splayed on the track. But, we still had 7 minutes left, so after a 10-count, YHC turned off the Amy Grant, and we headed back to the flag for some Mary. More exercise certainly wasn’t easy, but anything was better than burpees.
At 7:30, we counted off, and during name off shared the number of burpees achieved. YHC though it would be good to allow the monumental feat each man had accomplished to be known and appreciated by others. Each man had something to be proud of, especially Honeysuckle who cranked out 208, earning him the coveted Blue Tube.
In an interesting, cosmic amalgamation of many small circumstances and decisions, Valve and YHC somehow finished at the exact same number. And we didn’t start or stop or take breaks at the same time or anything. What does it mean? What implications does it have? What does it reveal about the space-time fabric of the F3 Universe?
These questions would have to wait as we had an FNG to name. Peyton is into Legos, particularly Ninjago, so it was an easy decision. L-loyd (pronounced “luh-loyd”) was quickly christened, and we’re sure to see his small, fast form sprinting ahead of many a Peltch Indian Run line.
There’s nothing quite like suffering through really tough stuff together with a group of good men, which is why YHC looks forward to September every year. But, thank God it’s over. We did it, and now we can rest on our laurels. Until Monday.
SYITG,
Goose
