Moby and I rolled up to the A1C like a couple of action heroes—minus the capes, plus a little extra wheezing. The morning was crisp, the motivation was questionable, but the mission was clear: burpees, squats, running, inclines, steps, slow squats (because why suffer quickly when you can suffer in slow motion?), and even some good old-fashioned trash pickup. Because nothing says “elite fitness” like doing lunges while holding a discarded fast-food cup.
We weren’t just working out; we were upholding the honor of the A1C, ensuring it remained pristine for whatever parade was about to roll through. And in a stunning display of intelligence, we did it before said parade—because apparently, we love making things harder for ourselves. But hey, someone’s gotta do it, and today, that someone was the Dynamic Duo: Batman and Robin, but with more sweat and significantly fewer gadgets.
At least we weren’t the splash crowd. That’s all I’m gonna say about that.
