A long, long time ago…
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while
But February made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step
I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died
11 for the Skunk, matching the Hawks Nest crew in attendance. That’s where the similarities stop. We’re like Rocky IV training in the shed over here while they caper about on fancy track #7 like Ivan Drago in his state-of-the-art fitness lab. Pay no attention to the fact that Dolph Lundgren is a 3rd degree black belt with a masters in chemical engineering who put Sylvester Stallone in the hospital by punching him so hard during filming that steroid juice shot out of both of his ears. Focus on the important things, like being awesome.
Still focused? Good .
Run while partner does KB stuff. Run to the big rock and pull a #banksy on the 1st round, and run the dirt track on the 2nd. 3 or 4 sets of this.
11s on the field, burpees and swings.
Finisher KB Complex
25 Flutters + 25 Dollys
The general theme of this workout was Header complaining about the lack of personally curated music. Apparently, he is accustomed to members of his Soccer entourage following him around with a shoulder-mounted boombox whilst he gets his sweat on. He left disappointed.
I did give it a try though. Little does he know that while everyone was doing that awful burpee thing on the field, I snuck into his #MomJeep and pilfered through a big shoebox that had JREBZ MIXTAPEZ scrawled across the lid. I found some interesting jewels, but couldn’t get the Fisher Price working so we missed out on:
I was told that while I was snooping around, Baracus flat out refuseniked everything on the field and just jogged around harassing folks. I apologize on his behalf.
Lois was only a half-ninja today. Scorpion Wins, Flawless Victory.
Overall, I feel like this workout had the proper ratio of runnin’ to liftin’, like a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. Too much of either, and you’ve got one of those filthy Reese’s eggs with way too much of that sketchy dry peanut butter that only tastes good when you don’t eat it by itself. Nobody ain’t got no time for that.
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