F3 New Orleans

Tag: The A1C

  • Captain Clean Up – from Jose10k

    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.

  • Cold Deck at The A1C – from Einstein

    Cold this morning on the deck of the parking garage at the A1C ~ 28 degrees.

    WARMUP: all IC15x; toe touch, windmills, side staddle hops, arm circles, neck rolls(snap,crackle,pops),
    shoulder rolls, butt kicks, high knees, book covers, single leg hip circles, etc.

    THANG: PAX of 4 – perfect for the deck-of-doom, each pax assigned a suit, performing reps as per the card value

    Jose10K – clubs; plenty of merkins
    Moby – hearts; mix of stretching
    Fletch – diamonds; plenty of freak nasties
    Einstein – spades; simple mix

    2 Jokers run a lap, and one minute of Rocky Balboas

    Plenty of mumble chatter, resulting in overtime to finish the deck.
    Froze fingers could not flip the cards easily, resulting in double overtime.

    Fletch prayed us out.

  • Plenty of Love at the A1C! The 4 Core on the Northshore – from Jose10k

    Ah, Valentine’s Day at the A1C—love was in the air, and so was the smell of cold sweat and regret. The Original Four—Einstein, BBQ, Moby, and YHC—showed up ready to conquer the cold like it owed us money. Unfortunately, Darkwing Duck hit the snooze button on his hibernation alarm, leaving us to brave the elements without his quacking commentary.

    We kicked things off with some “Fly, Eagle, Fly” arm exercises, because nothing says “good morning” like reminding BBQ that his Chiefs got plucked by the Eagles in the Super Bowl. BBQ took it like a champ, focusing on Travis Kelce, Taylor Swift, and his bromance with Patrick “Mahomey” to power through.

    Once properly warmed up and full of Super Bowl smack talk, we moseyed down to the parking garage for a “simple” workout—because nothing involving merkins, squats, sit-ups, and running a quarter mile repeatedly ever stays simple. The goal? Clock some mileage while our lungs begged for mercy. Ten merkins, ten squats, ten big-boy sit-ups, and off we went—rinse, repeat, and pray. By the time we hit 2.25 miles, the parking garage was filled with enough grunting to make the uninitiated concerned.

    Then came circle time, where we caught our breath and dissected the Super Bowl halftime show. Consensus: the pregame music was better than Rihanna’s halftime performance, but at least no one tried to explain the Taylor-Travis relationship as some kind of cosmic marketing ploy.

    To wrap it up, YHC got sappy. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all, and six years ago to the day, I met my beautiful wife and started the greatest romance story since Harry met Sally, Johnny and June—or at least since Travis met Taylor LOL. I guess I need to show some love to our cross town rivalries at the Splash Pad. I think one or two of them post every now and again. Gentlemen, take care of your wives, your M’s, and remember that flowers and chocolate might keep you out of trouble, but burpees won’t save your marriage.

    See you in the gloom!

  • Guess who’s back, back again…… – from Jose10k

    Michael Jordan returned to the Bulls in 1995, Luke Skywalker returned as a Jedi, and dare I say it: The return of the Mack! All of these returns pale in comparison to the return of Darkwing Duck. He finally came back to the A1C. Trumpets blared loudly, confetti fell from the sky, a tear ran down Moby’s face. It was emotional.
    The Thang: 10 merkins, 15 squats, 20 penguins 2 is 1. A ¼ mile run after each. RCR is in full swing. There were ruckers, runners, and conversationalists. COT. Thanks for letting me lead.

  • February Eve: Let’s get ready to RunCajunRun – from Jose10k

    We gathered at the A1C, three brave souls ready to suffer: Moby, YHC, and the legend himself—Hogs Breath. The mission? Tabata. The pain? Immeasurable.

    45 seconds on, 15 seconds off—perfect ratio for pain and mumble chatter. We hit everything: core, legs, upper body. Push-ups humbled us, calf raises made us question why we even have ankles, and lunges—both forward and reverse—had our thighs screaming for mercy. Penguins made us wiggle around like fish out of water, and the infamous Jane Fondas had us feeling like ‘80s aerobics instructors with a vendetta.

    And because that wasn’t enough, we threw in a couple laps—because why not finish strong (or at least finish)? By the end, sweat was pouring, muscles were burning, and we all collectively decided that tomorrow would be a “rest day” (or a “can’t-walk day”). Moby may have grumbled something about never doing this again, but we all knew we’d be back. Because pain is temporary, but questionable life decisions are forever
    COT, prayers for Tanked Up. Procedure done, he’s resting, slowly recovering. Y’all, he’s been kicking our ass before the procedure, imagine how bad we’re going to look when he’s fully recovered? RunCajunRun begins tomorrow.

  • LEG WORK & LOWER BACK at THE A1c – from Einstein

    Cool this morning at the A1C ~ 38 degrees.

    WARMUP: all IC15x; toe touch, windmills, side staddle hops, arm circles, neck rolls(snap,crackle,pops), hi jack hi jills,
    shoulder rolls, butt kicks, high knees, merkins, parker-peters, side to side lunges, etc.

    THANG: set of 11s on the upper ramp; narrow leg squats in speed skater position at the ramp bottom, wide leg squats in speed skater position at the ramp top
    UP THE RAMP – slow skater walk up the ramp in speed skater position.
    DOWN THE RAMP – pax choice of: run forwards, run backwards, side shuffle left, side shuffle right, karaoke.

    Mary: all on your six; big boy sit-ups, left elbow to right knee, right elbow to left knee, BBQ’s hip stretch

    Moby prayed us out

  • Hot Sauce, Bushwhackers, and Catapults: A Wet and Wild Morning at the A1C – from Jose10k

    So there I was, ready to tackle the day in a parking garage, wetter than a swimsuit calendar in monsoon season but warmer than yesterday’s frozen hellscape. Just as I was prepping for some solo misery at 5:14 AM, Fletch rolls in like a spicy savior, hot sauce in hand. This wasn’t just any hot sauce, though—it was Fletch’s special blend, the kind that burns twice, if you know what I mean. Naturally, I knew it had to go to Bushwhacker, the only guy who won’t whine about getting left out of the heat.

    And just as I’m cursing the heavens for starting without him, who do we see rolling up in his signature white chariot? Bushwhacker himself, arriving late but still managing to make an entrance. Hot sauce exchange complete, we got to work.

    Since it was January 10th and football is life, we honored the playoffs with a First-and-Ten special: a brutal round of 11s, featuring burpees and copperhead squats on opposite ends of the driest concrete we could find. Between sets, we experimented with various ways to move—sprinting, sidestepping, karaoke-style, bear crawling, and then, thanks to Bushwhacker’s brilliant idea, catapulting. Turns out, launching yourself repeatedly down a parking garage isn’t the best move unless you’re training for the Olympic Dizzy Decathlon. Three attempts in, Bushwhacker was down for the count, but hey, at least he left us all laughing.

    We wrapped it up with a trip to the spa—aka, the driest spot for some Mary. We crunched through LBCs, flapped like penguins, and topped it off with the infamous wife pleasers (a crowd favorite for both fitness and innuendo).

    By the end, I had to bounce, leaving the rest to round-robin their way through the last few minutes. COT brought it home, and I thanked the crew for letting me lead—a morning filled with sweat, spice, and more questionable decisions than a college frat party.

    Remember: never catapult the length of a parking garage, but always show up with hot sauce.

  • Hot Sauce, Bushwhackers, and Catapults: A Wet and Wild Morning at the A1C – from Jose10k

    So there I was, ready to tackle the day in a parking garage, wetter than a swimsuit calendar in monsoon season but warmer than yesterday’s frozen hellscape. Just as I was prepping for some solo misery at 5:14 AM, Fletch rolls in like a spicy savior, hot sauce in hand. This wasn’t just any hot sauce, though—it was Fletch’s special blend, the kind that burns twice, if you know what I mean. Naturally, I knew it had to go to Bushwhacker, the only guy who won’t whine about getting left out of the heat.

    And just as I’m cursing the heavens for starting without him, who do we see rolling up in his signature white chariot? Bushwhacker himself, arriving late but still managing to make an entrance. Hot sauce exchange complete, we got to work.

    Since it was January 10th and football is life, we honored the playoffs with a First-and-Ten special: a brutal round of 11s, featuring burpees and copperhead squats on opposite ends of the driest concrete we could find. Between sets, we experimented with various ways to move—sprinting, sidestepping, karaoke-style, bear crawling, and then, thanks to Bushwhacker’s brilliant idea, catapulting. Turns out, launching yourself repeatedly down a parking garage isn’t the best move unless you’re training for the Olympic Dizzy Decathlon. Three attempts in, Bushwhacker was down for the count, but hey, at least he left us all laughing.

    We wrapped it up with a trip to the spa—aka, the driest spot for some Mary. We crunched through LBCs, flapped like penguins, and topped it off with the infamous wife pleasers (a crowd favorite for both fitness and innuendo).

    By the end, I had to bounce, leaving the rest to round-robin their way through the last few minutes. COT brought it home, and I thanked the crew for letting me lead—a morning filled with sweat, spice, and more questionable decisions than a college frat party.

    Remember: never catapult the length of a parking garage, but always show up with hot sauce.

  • 11s on the ramp – from Jose10k

    The dynamic duo was at the A1C where the weather was much warmer than previous days. 11s on the ramp: merkins and squats. Back peddling, sprints, lunge walks, duck walks and sprints back and. Then a couple of laps followed by calf raises in the stairways. COT

  • Shoeless Joe Jackson?!? – from Jose10k

    A delayed start for the usual pair at the A1C, Moby forgot his shoes! 2 guys worked out. Short, sweet, and too the point. Last A1C beatdown at the A1C!!!