The horror, the horror



The horror, the horror

He hated all this, and somehow he couldn’t get away.


-Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness (also TAF, who seems to be Chester’s favorite)

15 pax met up this morning at the greenway parking lot at Sardis Road and Old Bell Road, prepared for their weekly trip into the heart of darkness to kick the bully (Mount Yucca) in the shins.

After a brief disclaimer, 12 of us set off at precisely 5:15 (Federalist, Hoover, and Mr. Brady) met us on the course. As a veteran leader, well aware of his own weaknesses (namely, Oreos, IPAs, and running), I had devised a plan that required absolutely zero leadership. After all, this site basically Qs itself.

The plan was simple: start at the cul de sac at the top of Old Bell Road. Run down and make a right on Wilby and follow it all the way out to Sardis Road. Turn around and return to the top via Mountainview. That’s one lap, run as many as you can, then meet at the flagpole at 6:08 (that’s 6:08AM Eastern time, Cheese Curd!) for the pledge, then mosey it back to the launch. Everyone got in at least 2.5 laps. The leaders were somewhere on their 4th when time ran out.

Chester’s Moleskine:

We all know that no one comes to a Horsey backblast for details of the workout, so #cobains for the above recap. This morning’s fever dream started like all of the others, with a bunch of men standing around, looking at each other in a parking lot. Some of the visitors had already dispensed with their shirts, their semi-chiseled flesh glistening in the light of the moon, like a bunch of backup dancers from an off-brand Chippendale’s show at a motel near the airport. The others remained shirted, mostly in non-performance shirts sure to shear their nipples off by the end of today’s journey. On the run in on Old Bell, you hear a lot of strange noises from the darkened woods. Shining your headlamp into the bushes, it’s not uncommon to see glowing eyes staring back at you. Deer? Coyote? Man? Chester? Just keep running. Despite the other pax on the course, there is inevitably some time out there where you’re utterly alone in the darkness with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company. “Why am I doing this again?” “Why do my friends invite me to these workouts? Do they secretly hate me?” “Why did I eat that burrito for dinner last night?” “Why are my shoes so squishy?” [Those last two are not related, I swear.]

Horsey is as much a battle of emotions as it is hills. Keep the legs moving, tune out the weird noises, and ignore the possible sexual predators. Thanks to the pax for coming out this morning and helping push each other.

Random observations:

Checkpoint, the sole representative of #TeamRifty, was at the front the entire time. Mr. Brady was in second place from a speed perspective, but might have been first if the competition was volume of sweat wrung from his shirt post-workout. TAF has possibly the most impressive beard I’ve ever seen on a non-millenial. Part of me wonders if he has any small rodents living under there, like the brown wizard from the Hobbit. Despite all of his complaining post-workout, Gypsy is getting strong and is going to crush his marathon later this year. We might need to change his nickname to Waterboy if he keeps hiding water bottles everywhere. Cheese Curd is usually my speed, but he stayed just out of my reach today. You know he’s feeling good if you don’t hear any moaning noises while he’s running hills.

Alright, I need to get to bed. Sound off in the comments if you have any more observations or feedback. I’ll be sure to pass along any suggestions to management.

About the author

Voodoo author

Area 51/SOB, Meathead co-site Q

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Chelms aka Tatertot
4 years ago

Mr Brady wore a shirt?

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