F3 New Orleans

Tag: El Guapo

  • Lean Forward – from Charmin

    Today was about leaning into the pain, both figuratively, and if you were with Scantron, then literally as well.

  • Campout Campfire – from Sea Man

    A large grouping of Pax headed out to conquer the uptown rockies! (Yulman, Wolfpack, Little Wolf, TES Stairs, and Loyola Music Stairs) Dodging protesters, and news outlets, Popalock sent the Pax on their quick journey.

  • Run,Ruck or KNOT – from Kenna Brah

    A motley Krewe assembled with the FNG looking sharp in his PRO running togs and ready to experience F3. Unbeknownst to him, many were plotting his ascent to regain the Hammer from the NS heathen. You see, this guy is FAST.

    Each group split off to chase their dreams, leaving me to SOLO ruck on the rough railway rocks.

    We reassemble late, named the FNG “HIPAA”, being that he is a Dr.
    Brief COT – Out!!

  • Not meant to be a joke….the plan “easy” it was the partnered effort that made it challenging – from Mahatma

    April 1 2024 70deg and it’s Rock City. YHC had his black box, playlist ready and a game plan….. Disclaimer given we headed to the field. Tenderloin hit the track to his standard routine so that gave us 9 no what a minute a late undecided 10th arrival; is he a Rucker, Knoter or interested in joining the pack? No amount of camaraderie coaxing could draw the 10th so off he drifted to wonder with out any real plan yet in his mind showing up was 1/2 the battle and a sure win.

    During the warm up the 8 were instructed to choose a partner, who was choosing who? Bogey Elgapo Rudy Architect vagabond PoolBoy

    Well it worked out and YHC ended up with some 49er from the hills of AR.

    Instructions: start with Red Barchetta (for those that know: know 100 SSH, 75 BBS, 50 Squats (Looking at Hawg either I shorted 10 or his youthfulness was just showing off) 25 Hand slap merkins, 10 Burpees
    Then straight to the bleachers for the stair snake upon completion run to the start 10 Burpees
    Then hit the field for a partner bear crawl push swapping 1/2 way.
    Once done head to the goal line where Hawg lead Mary until the 6 showed up.

    With that complete we met at some random spot on the track where we were going to run partnered 200s – Rudy was showing his smarts and pointed out to the Q that we had to move to the middle of the track to keep it fair.

    With a total mile complete we did a little
    Mary: 3 rounds of something then off to the pull up bars for 3 rounds of 3 with 5 Merkins between each round.

    Then line up at the track Bernie Sanders back to the start – several of the Yutes took off to push the pack.

    Finished with another round of Mary and a few April Fools promises of it being the last round.

    COT – with a little bit of passionate prayer for male leadership.

  • The FNG – from Hawgcycle

    Fracsac noticed the FNG as he walked up to the flag this morning. Something wasn’t quite right. He looked to be in his 30s, muscular build, slicked back hair, calm demeanor. Frac gave a knowing glance to Mahatma. Mahatma nodded back. They both looked to Rudy, putting him into action. When I walked up Rudy was standing by the FNG, making small talk, gathering intel. He made sure I knew what was happening:

    “We have an FNG today Hawg.”

    I walked over to greet him: “Nice to meet you, I’m Craig.”

    “I’m Justin,” he replied.

    I turned to the group: “Alright, let’s get started,” I said. “A few more people than I was expecting.”

    The group understood what I was telling them – we have an FNG today and the F may not stand for Friendly. Everyone that is, except for Bogey. I could tell it was totally lost on him. That’s okay, the guys had recently had a training exercise called the Old Metairie Mosey where they learned how to take care of Bogey and keep him out of trouble. In the past I might have considered having Snooze put him in a sleeper hold and throw him in the trunk of Rudy’s Mini Cooper while the rest of us mosey to the warm-up. Not necessary today. We were prepared to handle the FNG and Bogey.

    We moseyed to the warm-up spot: SSH x 25, IW x 25, LSS x 20, Tempo Merks x 15, LBC x 20, Superman x 10, Superman to Boat x 3. At this point some of the guys were getting a little nervous. Thumb War asked if I was making that exercise up. This was his way of asking if I had a plan for what might go down today. I assured him that we were all well-prepared.
    “No Thumb War, we’ve been doing that exercise for a long time. It’s an oldie, but a goodie.”
    Thumb War started to settle down a little. We then finished the warm-up with a 10! Progression of Merkins, Squats, and Big Boi Sit-Ups. After finishing the FNG broke his silence.

    He smiled and said “that was a good one.”

    He was calm, breathing normally. This might be tougher than we thought.

    We moseyed to the Tool Wall where we did Calf Raises x 25, Squats x 20 Left Leg Calf Raises x 16 and Right Leg Calf Raises x 16. Then to the Little Foundry.
    On the mosey to the Little Foundry, Catfish pulled up beside me.

    “I’ve worn out my flip flops, but I don’t plan on losing one today. You know what I am saying.”

    The brand of flip flops Catfish and I wear are Locals. I knew what he was saying.

    “I hear you.” I replied.

    “I plan on protecting my flip flops at any cost. You get my drift?”

    “Yes. I understand.” I replied.

    “I’m not going to let any foreign objects destroy them. Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth?”

    “Yes, Catfish. I get it.”

    “The flip flops we wear are Locals. You understand what I really mean when I say flip-flops, right?”

    “Yes….”

    “So if I have trouble with my flip-flops, you can help me protect them, right?”

    “Don’t worry. I got you.”

    “Sorry, I have to ask, you understand I’m not really worried about my flip-flops, right?”

    At this point, I decided to set his mind at ease. “When we get to the Little Foundry, we will pair up. You take the FNG.”

    “Pair up? Are we still talking about my flip-flops?”

    “…”

    At the Little Foundry we paired up. Catfish was with the FNG. Still slightly confused he kept taking off his flip-flops, matching them together and then putting them back on his feet. We did two rounds of six stations EMOM: Burpees x 15, Dips x 25, Pull-ups x 15, Box Jumps x 20, Dips x 20, Pull-ups x 15.

    The FNG was unfazed.

    As we moseyed to the track he started in with the questions. He wasn’t very subtle.

    “So you all have been doing F3 for about 10 years?”…”Are you all originals?”…etc.

    Our suspicions were being confirmed. Frac called for Cheesesteak to meet us at the track.
    At the track I let everyone know they needed to keep their pairs. “I’ve got them on my feet!” yelled out Catfish.

    “Not what I’m….Okeedookie.” I said.

    One Pax sprinted a 200 while the other jogged across the infield to meet him. I paired up with Cheesesteak and told him to go first with Catfish. That allowed me to keep an eye on the FNG. Cheeseteak and Catfish were the first to finish the 200. Catfish tagged the FNG about 15 feet ahead of Cheeseteak tagging me. I was hoping Catfish would have taken a notch off so that I could have started with the FNG, but I think he was still thinking about his flip-flops. Nevertheless, I was prepared to run as hard as I needed to keep up with the FNG. I caught him before the first curve. What was he doing? He knows I am trying to keep an eye on him? My momentum carried me past him. He’s smarter than I thought. He knows how fit I am. I can’t run that slow. I finished my 200 about 20 meters ahead of him. Luckily Catfish made up the distance and the FNG and I always started at nearly the same time. However, I couldn’t help but smoke him each time. It’s a weakness. I’m too fast.

    We completed a mile and circled up on the infield for some Mary: Crunchy Frog x 15, Wife Pleasers x 10, Nolan Ryans x 10 on each side (message sent loud and clear), Dying Cockroaches x 15

    We moseyed back to the flag for the COT. Here we go…..

    El Guapo kicked us of with Count-o-rama, followed by Name-o-rama. It was time to signal to the group my assessment. I asked the FNG to step to the middle. Right on cue Frac pointed out that I had not announced my self in Name-o-rama. We had everyone’s attention.

    “Craig Parten, Hawgcycle, 47.”

    Mahatma called out. “Liar, you aren’t 47!”

    Our message to the pax was that no one can be trusted. We have a liar in our midst and he is about to be outed.

    “You’re right,” I replied with a smile. “I’m a liar. Justin, step to the middle. Tells us about yourself.”

    At this point the FNG steps to the center and starts to talk about how he is from Virgina, how he is in town on a vacation, how his Uncle told him about F3.

    “What is your uncle’s name?” asked Squints.

    “Sam,” came the reply. He clearly thinks we are idiots.

    The FNG continued to rattle on about his family, his dogs, how he loves to workout, etc.

    Frac had heard enough. He took a step forward. We all did the same. “Why don’t you tell us who you really are.” We all took one more step forward, closing in on the FNG.

    What happened next is classified by the U.S. Government.

  • 9 to the Left is 2 to the Right – from Hawgcycle

    Warm-Up:
    Moseyed to the t-ball field by the tracks. SSH x 20; IW x 20; LSS x 20; Tempo Merkins x 15; Windmills x 10; Jack Web to 10 (2:1 Air Press:Merkin)
    The Thang:
    We ran back to the rock pile to pick a rock and then returned to the t-ball field. We circled up and did a Rock Stack. We paused between each set of exercises to share the number of children each man has. Once we finished that we shared their names.
    • Man Makers x 5;
    • Man Makers x 5; Presses x 10
    • Man Makers x 5; Presses x 10; Squats x 15
    • Man Makers x 5; Presses x 10; Squats x 15; Curls x 20
    • Man Makers x 5; Presses x 10; Squats x 15; Curls x 20; Rows x 25
    • Man Makers x 5; Presses x 10; Squats x 15; Curls x 20; Rows x 25; Bench Press x 30
    We returned our rocks to the pile and finished with some Mary before Horses to the Stable back to the flag: LBC x 20; LBT x 20; Crunchy Frog x 15
    What we learned:
    • Hand Grenada named his kids Davis and Beauregard. Beauregard is a girl.
    • The Wedding Planner is a virile man (but we already knew that).
    • The most popular names among the pax kids were Colin, Christian, Colleen, Carrie, and Caligula
    • Mahatma and Boge named their kids the exact same thing
    • The Architect has never uttered a two-syllable word
    • Rudy originally told us he had three kids. When it came his turn to name them he only named two. He had originally miscounted.

  • It Was Only A Mile – from Paradox

    Journal entry
    Feb 17, 2024
    An eventful morning on the Farm

    My family has lived on this property out along Hwy 1 since around WW2 and most mornings I follow a strict but enjoyable routine. Up just before the sun rises over the cane fields , I brew a pot of coffee and check the weather. Then I enjoy a quiet morning with my thoughts, some prayer and maybe even a good book.

    But this morning …this morning my routine was , well, I’ll put it politely and say it was disturbed. You see, shortly after the weatherman informed me that today’s forecast was not fit for man nor beast , well I heard just that. A man , my nephew, in the yard hollering at some sort of animal. On closer inspection out my kitchen window it was no beast making these noises but a hybrid redneck dialect being emitted from another human he insisted on calling a paradox. He was in a truck loaded nose to tail with tents and tables like Jed Clampett. “Shoot fire Yankee this is a mighty fine residence, hope tha skeeters ain’t neer bad as the peltch last beatdown” he said while looking around the farm. I expected him to have no teeth at all but he only seemed to be lacking inseam in his shorts. A paradox indeed.

    To my amazement, my nephew, the one he kept calling Yankee, seemed to know and welcome him and they began putting out cones and yard signs in a cold rain storm just happier than two pigs in the sunshine. Things were getting quite strange here , and little did I know it was just the beginning.

    By 7:15 the rain had let up but the floodgates of middle aged men with knee braces and headbands were now wide open. Short , tall, thick , thin, they all piled in helping setup a flooded tent and passing around gold baun sticks and theraguns. Some dressed for the weather while others invested in Himalayan technology to keep there mammary glands chafe free. There seemed to be no distinction in vehicle either as they stepped from punisher Tundras or eco friendly wagons. They greeted old friends with butt slaps and elbow taps yelling obscenities like FracSac and Goosey. Quite frankly , I don’t even care to know why a Hawg would even need a cycle. This ceremony continued until there were dang near 30 of them loitering around our property! I had the authorities dialed up when I was informed they had gathered on purpose AND for a charity cause AND my nephew had actually planned on them being here! Tomfoolery! The very definition!

    I settled back into my armchair to take a breather. That’s when the foghorn went off …and they started running.

    The first one I saw break away from the pack looked like he had been taken right off the cover of one of those running magazines. A stride so Smooth you would swear he was standing still but hard to reconcile that with the 1/2 mile lead he had most of the day.

    Behind him were 3-4 others seemingly using this gazelle as a pace car and weighing options that he couldn’t keep that pace all day..right..right?! (He would)

    They had one young enough to be 15 with spring loaded rubber for legs and others flexing the scars of midlife ,held together with bioflex and gorilla glue.

    Behind this second group were the real rabble rousers. A pack of 10-15 wild dogs complete with mobile tunes, homemade JV shirts and promises every turn that “I think this is it for me boys..wink, wink”

    A few ringleaders in this pack but the real Don Corleone was a highlighter vested gentleman they all called Popeye. He was not blazing land speed records but something about the way he set his jaw let any observer know he wouldn’t be denied his mileage goal.

    They all hit the first corner in site of the quarter mile cone and stared down a cold and wet 15mph headwind, lovely. Gosh I wonder if any of them had cozy pickleball scheduled today.

    In between miles I saw various strategies of recharge. Some gorged calories , others walked it out , and some stood still contemplating the next lap. Many of these hooligans searched for a man who I guessed to be their local shaman but lap after lap he wore many more hats (and one whistle) . One part coach , one part field general, his intimate knowledge of the men was palpable . Some he pushed harder, others he let down easy, both equally effective in getting his men’s best effort. He delivered speeches to ward off ego and checked joints for oil leakage like a seasoned mechanic. With a firm nod or a head turned grin he communicated his trust. This was a leader of high impact men from any viewpoint. He whistled and they ran. They ran and he whistled.

    The wind blew. The socks got wet, got swapped out and got wet again. Many met their goal mileage, passed it and kept on churning. By about 11am most having exceeded a half marathon at this point, most took a bowl of delicious pastalaya and continued to cheer on the rest.

    By around 2pm there were 4 still running . And when I thought I had heard it all one yelled “back the cones up” and they took off for one last trip, this time for 1.2 miles. The gazelle in front still as fresh as mile 1 but that ole hawg wasn’t far behind. They all knew he had a little sand left in those bags. The third man was a true bewilderment. His physique suggesting he could walk on as an NFL tight-end but his running demeanor at mile 26 was simply unbothered. The redneck brought up the rear and surely he thought there was a bud light promotion for finishers. (there wasn’t, but a Coors from a friend was even better)

    The gazelle found the finish line first only a second in front of the hawg and the artist they called Tana only a furlong after that.

    And as the miles piled up I pondered to myself “why would they do something so utterly stupid “. With time on my hands, as the trucks loaded with tents and boxes dispersed , I came to three potential conclusions.

    Was it fitness driving them ?

    Surely this looked plausible as some had clear physical gifts and several maintained peak cardio strain. Were these average Yankee Jeaux’s striving to be Americas Best athletes? Unlikely. But I can only say it seemed the fitness got them here, but it was not the reason they stayed for more. An appetizer of sorts, maybe stellar quads is just the byproduct ….so I kept searching.

    Were they just here to fellowship? Some signs pointed in this direction. As soon as I saw the Solo Stove fire pit I knew a high fluting party was in full swing. This crew obviously knew how to have a good time and the verbal assaults flying along with answered grins of disdain indicated enjoyment of each others company. I’m Closer to the mark here but…but no. Not quite the primary driving factor I could sense.

    So if they weren’t fitness professionals and most would think a better party is available at any other watering hole then what’s left ?!

    Hidden amongst the laps, intertwined between these fun loving family men, was the intrinsic need to put ones own pain aside. To combine that suffering with the brother next to him and have it all be for something much larger than themselves. That’s why they ran. Every step counted , every lap mattered. It was “only a mile” they said to each other .

    But it seemed like so much more.

    This was a fine day.

    Postscript

    Congrats to NOLA’s Smooth for winning the first annual IOAM! See ya next to year to defend .

    Second place – The OG sandbagger himself Mr. Hawgcycle

    Third place – Wilford Montana – forged in the fires of deep Bourg pickleball this was truly impressive brother!

    To all that ran today (and one that whistled), thank you for your time , effort and commitment to raise money for several great causes today and during RCR.

    Thanks to Rudy for the ground support and motivation. You really stepped RCR up this year!

    Special Thanks to Enron and Bourgeois Meat Market for the awesome lunch!

    As usual artistic liberties were taken in portrayal of backblast characters but Reluctant Yankee and his family were overwhelmingly gracious hosts . Huge thanks to his family for having us invade their Saturday!

    It’s a privilege to lead.

    SYITG

    Paradox

  • One foot forward – from Shorty

    "There are two primary choices in life: to accept conditions as they exist, or accept the responsibiity for changing them." – Dr. Denis Waitley

    YHC has been choosing the former when it comes to the gloom. Mainly due to not prioritizing sleep early enough at night and living within a 24hr day cycle…anyone know where I can get a longer day? It's difficult for everyone to manage life within the time we are given. Since we cannot change the time variable, all that's left are the choices we make within the day. These choices are rooted within intentionality, and the choices you make create your reality for you and those around you. Therefore, whatever you do, be intentional with your time each day. 

    To work on intentionality, I think it's important to have a tool in your workshop like F3. Something that is always there for you to choose. A F3 workout provides a platform for us men to make this choice every day…and I'm grateful for that.

    The Beatdown:

    Two parts today:

    1. Run out the Bayou Route for 15 min OYO; retrace your steps back and meet at the track
    2. VO2 Max Work:
      • 2min – Run at a difficult pace; note your destination marker
      • 2min – Recovery back to start
      • OYO – Run at moderate pace to your destination marker
      • 2min – Recovery back to start
      • 2min – Run at a difficult pace to beat your original destination marker
      • OYO – Mosey back to the flag

    COT:

    Ended with name-o-rama; announcements, prayer….due to 6yrs of buffering, YHC forgot the count-off (Tclaps to Amnesty for keeping me honest).

    Mumblechatter:

    Run Cajun Run: https://www.runcajunrun.com/

    • Just sign up…we can figure out teams later.

    Here's to being more intentional and choosing the later! 

    -Shorty 

  • Running and rucking – from Kenna Brah

    Same as title

  • Lions, Gazelles, Sledding, and Striding – from Bolt

    12 pax posted in the gloom looking for and providing accountability; some ran, some KnOTted, some rucked. YHC wanted to test if there was an impact on speed if one is chased vs being chased so Lions and Gazelles was born.

    The disclaimer was given and off we went while the ruckers were informed they’d have a one minute head start to account for the estimated difference in pace between the lion (YHC) and gazelles (them) so I did burpees (it IS MABA month after all). Would it take more or less than a mile to catch them?

    I could feel parts of my legs I didn’t know existed right away so clearly being the lion impacted my pace but what about the gazelles? I expected to find out in about 15 minutes. Unbeknownst to me, the gazelles did an un-gazelle thing and hid in the bush until the lion passed (instead of “running” as they’re built to do).

    YHC hit the first lengthy straight away and presumed the figures in the distance were the gazelles (“ignore the new leg sensations or starve, lion” was my mantra) and then I lost sight of them. As the turn near Metaire Rd came I realized, so I thought, they’d altered from the agreed upon course; none the matter, mile one was coming and Siri shared the pace was 14’05”–keep pushing. The next turn came and the straight away betrayed the gazelles’ course altering—vindication…and time to eat!

    It was close to mile two before I’d catch them and just before the feast, the gazelle known as Charmin confessed their TWO dastardly deeds. Another ruck will be required to know how YHC’s pace is impacted as a gazelle.

    Thanks for the new pace, gazelles. COT.