There we were, gathered in the 73 degree gloom, preparing for pedo-strata combat like a small band of wearily tremulous skirmishers, ready to embark on Part 1 of, what would be for some, a 2-part F3 kind of day. The insights were keen, though the conversations garrulous as, with the under-the-wire arrival of Chewy, we were off without so much as side straddle hop or imperial walker.
Perseverance was the battle plan of the day along the scramble route. For some it was giving it their all to keep up and catch up, while for others it was the sporadically concerted effort to not far out-pace the rest of the illustrious PAX. And for yet at least one other it was keeping his bowels under his own power.
For those of us who are acquainted with the mastery of skill over his craft that Chewy has, there is a respect, admiration, and appreciation. Having tweaked his back in the arduously entertaining ultimate frisbee beatdown of his own design last Saturday, Waterpik, was quick to accept the grace of physical therapy-on-the-go that YHC, among others, have been the the recipient of. Further proving his worth, Chewy was tapped by YHC to take us out with 10 minutes of ballistic stretches and yoga, but not before Garfield and Coconuts were initiated into the Dice of Doom fraternity with 10 putins and 15 side straddle hops.
For part 2, a Maverick-induced 8:00pm beatdown followed by F2 will be a fun change of pace this evening.
YHC prayed us out with a disjointed rambling of appreciation and acknowledgement for the influence that we all have in others’ lives and they in ours, and how we are all held in one set of almighty hands.
Thank you, gentlemen, for another rousing scramble!
