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.
Remember, call BR-549 for a fantastic deal on some great vehicles.
Boys and girls take warning
If you go near the lake
Keep your eyes wide open
And look for sneaky snake
Now, maybe you won’t see himTom T. Hall
And maybe you won’t hear
But he’ll sneak up behind you
And drink all your root beer
The don’t write em like that anymore. We used to have an old Tom T. Hall 8-track that dad kept in the 1976 Ford Explorer. When we weren’t piled 10 deep under the camper shell in the back, we had a listen and it was good time.
Oh yeah, we did some F3 today. 11 guys for Peak51, plus some runners and ruckers.
Although we did receive some pre-game commentary from Swiss Miss and Booyah, neither graced us with their presence. Fine . . . live vicariously though this backblast that I know you are both reading.
Lois mentioned hurting a bit, and referenced his entire right side as the source of pain. I believe that he is secretly Harvey Dent and the disguise is starting to wear off. I’m not sticking around for the quarter to land.
Sometimes it nice just to work out in a little parking lot without the need to lurk around busy streets or cover a lot of ground. We still got in 2.5 miles and a good sweat and I didn’t have to worry about Sensei and Slim Fast clotheslining any Matthews powerwalkers with their towel nunchuck (although in their credit, they had already done a 3 mile warmup run and only took out three people).
Drop Thrill drove all the way in from the township of Fort Mill just to see us.
Tweetsie just returned from Australia. I have gained all of my Australian knowledge via Steve Irwin (RIP), Bill Bryson’s travel books , and Crocodile Dundee movies so I’m really the expert here but at least he confirmed that Vegemite is pure trash and should not be consumed.
Styx is a poor man’s Rush.
Rush is mostly bad, at least the singing parts. YYZ rips though.
I feel like this backblast is getting progressively worse, like the Pirates of the Caribbean Movies.
Reach out to those guys who have dropped off or need a nudge. We need to get them back out. Don’t assume that somebody else has reached out, this is how guys go dark. Pick up the phone and initiate some contact.
I’m Henry the eighth I am
Henry the eighth I am, I am
I got married to the widow next door
She’s been married seven times before
And every one was an Henry (Henry)
She wouldn’t have a Willy or a Sam (no Sam)
I’m her eighth old man, I’m Henry
Henry the eighth I am
Second verse same as the first
I’m Henry the eighth I am
Henry the eighth I am, I am
I got married to the widow next door
She’s been married seven times before
First of all, Orange Rhapsody decided to disrespect my workout by doing like 7 mins of random kettlebell exercises in the parking lot just before. Do you show up at Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving with a room temperature Hot Pocket and slap it on the table? Heck no. Should have got smacked for that, but I was sitting in my vehicle nodding off to sleep.
We ran around a little bit to find a dark spot so we could hide from Rhapsody’s neighbor, who never found us. Off to a good start.
COP with so much love and praise for the leadership that we had to move on out of there before things really went off the rails. Bulldog had started handing out some cans of 4 Loko that he found in the parking lot with duct tape wrapped around them that said “Official F3 Beer” and I was concerned about drinking malt liquor that early into the workout, even if it was the sponsored beer of F3 with all profits going to the supreme leader.
Find an emotional support partner, and get ready for some encouragement. Mandatory high fives from here on out. It’s high five Friday. Except for Radar, who I left hanging as payback for tying all of those balloons to the Yellow Rose and flying off to BRR Leg 28 with it two years ago. #freerange.
We ran up and down the big hill and did 4 exercises, each with a trip up to the top. Merkins, Mountain Climbers, Monkey Humpers, Freddie Mercuries. Like a Crash Test Dummies Song . . . . mmmm mmm mmmm mmmm. Those 4 exercises are a total body workout. #science
Each time we thought we were finished, we really weren’t finished. We kept dropping down a level and doing the same 4 awesome exercises. We did that nonsense until we made it plum to the bottom. By then, my approval rating was at least as high as the Mecklenburg County property tax increases and folks were really starting to look forward to all of the good things to come.
We ran around some more with the partners and did the same scientific exercises until a few guys started to really whine about it. So, I let the pax choose 4 new exercises and we did those. They were not a full body scientific workout and actually made me gain weight and get slower, but #democracy. One of them exercises was a burpee, which like two guys did. Clearly a downgrade from the Crash Test Dummies exercises.
Finally, we ran back up the hill to the top and then back to the cars so we could lay in the parking lot for 3 mins and pretend to exercise right until the end. It was awesome. I think somebody farted.
I sure am glad that this workout went off like such a well-oiled machine. With this rowdy of a crew, even the slightest slip up could mean utter disaster and shame. Bananas was crouched like a tiger, waiting to pounce on my slightest misstep. Well, maybe more like Garfield, waiting to pounce on some Lasagna but it was still enough to keep me on my toes.
Good Hands and Radar were back, like they had never left. They were running up front with Spackler, doing extra burpees and encouraging the rest of us. Got me all fired up. I think they have been secretly working out. One of them dropped a card to some gym called “Cool Sculpting” and I saw Puddin Pop pick it up and slip it in his wallet.
Bulldog must be on World War 2 Rations or something, because he soiled himself something awful and ran out of pull-ups. No wonder his teeth are so bad, if he has been holding those things in for all of these years the backpressure must have been causing corrosive leaking back up the windpipe.
Stone Cold kept singing some random song and I pretended like it wasn’t really annoying, but it was really annoying. Not like Baby Shark annoying, but enough to make me want to go all Col. Mustard in the conservatory on him. Good thing that I don’t have a conservatory. I think Tiger Rag does though, in the East Wing.
Gotta run. Power lunch with Cogswell Cogs and Spacely Sprockets today.
Movin’ to the country,Presidents of the United States of America
Gonna eat a lot of peaches
Movin’ to the country,
Gonna eat me a lot of peaches
Movin’ to the country,
Gonna eat a lot of peaches
Movin’ to the country,
Gonna eat a lot of peaches
8 rugged men and one 2.0, full of curiosity and wonder, posted at the Valley of the Sun while one brightly clad fortune teller circled them like a buzzard for 10 miles. Many were tested to their limits, but all survived.
Remember, Rythym is a Dancer,
14 at the Peak, legs feeling weak. I still can’t feel my left rear cheek.
What had happened:
What had really happened:
Sorry for the late blast. It was not a nice day to spend 7 hours in the car. Where are those inflatable pants when need them?
On another note, I did make the drive through Bishopville, SC today – home of the Lizard Man of Lee County. Ask Lois what happened to his cousin’s dog . . . but he might get a little emotional.
Speaking of an emotional Lois, it was nice to see Stone Cold get greeted with the full on hug and heroes welcome. It must be nice to be traveling celebrity guest pax. Tweetsie looked a little jealous for a second, but who can fault the guy?
I thought about Sensei not being able to handle this type of a workout for about 3 seconds. What was I thinking? The man is an inspiration to me. I bet he could make Chuck Norris flinch . . . well, maybe once.
I was really looking forward to spending some time with Slim Fast and his pile of coats and hats today, but I heard he was out hustling some golf in the desert. Loser has to be on his BRR team # 17.
Swiss Miss won’t cheat a rep, and he does it all with good form. Lots of slerkins and murpees out there, but he ain’t going for it. I wish he’d come out and play at the other workouts.
Do you ever think about Tom and Jerry? They are basically two cartoon animals beating the absolute hell out of each other, over and over. I think about it sometimes. Do they even have cartoons now?
When the winter weather hits, you never know how much clothing to wear. A lot of guys start out with the long sleeves, and then ditch the top layer mid workout. You can tell if you have a good Q going if the layers start coming off early. What I don’t see much of are those camping pants where you can zip the legs off and then BOOM, shorts. I need to give those a go.
Gotta go eat this Aldi chocolate bar I have hidden in my closet.
15 braved the drive to the Thrive. Some barely made it out alive.
Got a text from Glass Joe last night that his daughter had broken her arm attempting a Yurchenko vault from a 2X12 wedged under the rear bumper of his F-150 at the Unionville Gymnastics and Check Cashing Center last night. Gotta help a brother out, so time to brave the extremely confusing temporary stoplights, traffic cones, and barriers across Hwy74 to lead the brave men of (the real) UC in this morning’s misadventure.
It’s been a while since I have posted out in Hazard County. I was surprised to see 14 other guys show up, still a good crew out there. Not a lot has changed.
Two of the young guys were crushing it out there – Full House and Jock Strap. Strap has his VQ tomorrow at Death Valley, home of all things muddy and soccer. Since he was out front on the suicides, I asked him to demonstrate his cadence (which of course he has been practicing). You boys are in for a real treat tomorrow.
Lots of hate for the running out there today. Good . . . Good . . . let the hate flow through you. Use your aggressive feelings. Only then, will you harness the true power of the Dark Side.
10 Men are have a little wobble to their walk thanks to some hairburners and a “recovery hill”. No Site Qs were harmed during the production of this workout. According to Strava, Orange Whip is hanging out with Richard Bachman in Maine. I think he taped his iPhone to the back of of a Muskrat while he scarfed down some lobster and waffles, but we may need the FBI to investigate that.
Warmup near the tennis courts where the lonely port-a-john lives. Nobody was home. Harley eagerly asked about the graveyard, so we got out of there.
Main event was a hairburner rally with teams of three. Move your plate across the lot and back as a team while the partners do an exercise, or roll over and play dead. As long at the plate gets there, the rulez were pretty loose.
“Recovery ” was three hill sprints with some exercises at the base after each down and back.
Move the plates down a level and repeat this several times, keeping the hill sprints after each set. As we moved farther away, the sprints got more unpleasant as did the Pax.
Final move was to slide the plates all the way back up, nonstop. Near mutiny, but we pulled it together and got er done. Bulldogs knee exploded and I think somebody’s spleen shot out of their eye socket, so I’ll call it a win.
As if that wasn’t enough, we then headed back over to the graveyard to kill the last bit of time. Partners run, one does LBCs in dead end and the other does derkins on the bench. meet in the middle for 15 team burpees. Each man does exactly 7.5 burpees, or split em up however you can work it out emotionally with your partner.
Finally, we ran back to the start while I pretended to so some Mary for a couple of mins.
Here come the hot stepper, murderer
I’m the lyrical gangster, murderer
Pick up the crew in-a de area, murderer
Still love you like that
Sorry, but when I think of a small group of middle-aged white guys running around downtown Matthews with blinkie lights and headlamps, this type of lyrical hardness pops right to the top.
4 dudes on a mission, cover some ground without dropping the Q or getting run over. Mission Accomplished.
Cruise the Matthews back alleys through the secret trail near the Building Supply that spits you out at a sketchy Hwy51 crossing with no stoplight. Roll that dice and hit the Crews Road business park for some exercisin’ in the Charlotte Eagles parking lot. Next, head over to Crestdale Middle for a giant burpee starfish. After this, head back down to the Jekyll and Hyde for some suicides and merkins. Finishing Blow, AYG wind sprints back at Matthews Elementary. I’m sure that there was more, but nobody really cares about this stuff anyway. I think it was 5 miles or so.
Nothing like jamming some Kidz Bop to get your head right for a big Q. If you like to hear songs that you already hate taken to the next level, I suggest you give it a whirl.
Jefferson Airplane, Jefferson Starship, and Starship are a musical Bermuda triangle with a Venn Diagram on top. I couldn’t find the Kidz Bop version of any of their songs this morning, so I went with the Hot Stepper in my opening monologue, but I’m still searching. I think this is where I got the inspiration for the Giant Starfish, but it’s hard to really pinpoint this complex kind of emotion.
So we’re coming back to home base and I get this big loogie stuck in my throat. Seriously, I almost harfed right on the sidewalk. I figured that some wind sprints would either dislodge it, or my head, and decided to give it a whirl. It was an interesting call, but it did set us up to check out the P51 crew who were also out in the back. Turns out, they were taking turns beating Slim Fast with a bar of soap in a sock for telling them that the BRR was a “nice little jog in the mountains”. I think the gig is up. He’s playing chess while we play checkers out here though, so I’m probably way off base.
Those sprints got me fired up all right. It was like when the Axl blows the whistle in Paradise City and you are at the skating rink. You’re out of quarters for Street Fighter, so it’s go time on the hardwoods. Panama Jack has been giving you the business and it’s time to show everybody that you can still dominate, even with the orange rental skates. At least, that’s how I felt at the moment.
As a side note, just because they offer corn dogs as a side item at Cook Out doesn’t mean that it’s a good call. I had some trouble keeping up with Tony Stark and the two kids this morning and I fully attribute it to this. They dropped me like Brian Dunkleman on the 2nd season of American Idol. BTW, Clay > Ruben. Don’t @ me.
I will note that there was a failed attempt at naming one of the P51 FNGs as “VanillaNutTaps”. Cruller was the substitute. Maybe VNT would have been a better call. It came from this Bushwood documentary video.
Gotta roll. Working on my TJ Hooker costume for Scarowinds. Come and check it out.
P.S. Somehow, I’m on Q for Kevlar tomorrow. If you made it this far, you need to come on out and see Part 2 in person.
22 men drug their Q up and down an awful hill this morning for this weeks edition of HorseyMcHorseArse. There was sweating and lurching and lots of snotboogers flying. My spleen shot out of my ear at one point, but Baracus picked it up for me. Some walked, a few may have crawled, but everybody kept moving.
I had planned out another workout where we all starfished from the flag pole and met back in the middle for high fives and attaboys. On the way over, something didn’t feel right. Could we? Should we? Would we? Why don’t we? We’ll let the pax decide. Without hesitation, they chose option B – infinite repeats to the top of Mt. Horsey. #Purity. Spooky Jon pulled a #LeeroyJenkins and nearly ran me over. The remaining troops followed suit, with the big man Hoover running security detail in the rear for us.
Lots of encouragement during this workout. I tried to write down some of the things the guys shouted over to me, but the notepad got sweaty and then I had to eat it to survive. Here’s what I remember.
I couldn’t quite make out several more, including some hand gestures, but it really touched me, you know.
It’s probably gonna be a while before I do that again. I’d rather just walk on legos. I’ve got one of those fancy standing desks at work, but it ain’t happening today. Folks stick their head in my office and see me hunkered down at this thing and probably think I’m just a lazy slob who wasted money on this desk. They don’t know what we know . . . Maybe I’ll tell them, maybe I won’t . They probably wouldn’t believe it anyway.
It’s hard to get a grip on this crazy place. The entire workout feels like a giant Scooby Doo chase scene, with zombies and the Miner Forty-Niner running around opening and closing endless doors in a hallway. I’d like to get the BBC film crew out there and see if we can get Sir David Attenborough to narrate this thing.
You know who named this workout? It wasn’t me. There once was a man named Tiger Rag who used to frolic among our midst. He came and he went, but he always was. One day, he went away and never came back. I think he got snagged. This morning, we sent team Free Range over to Chester’s for an attempted rescue operation. This whole workout was just a diversion to keep the guys away while they dropped in with Seal Team 8 (well, it was really just Frasier with a nerf gun but he had on a black hoodie) . Anyway, they found them sitting there with some guy named Mark listening to KLove and playing Monopoly. TR had a hotel on Marvin Gardens and Atlantic, but didn’t have the cash for Ventnor yet. I could tell that it bothered him. He wouldn’t let it go and they were playing house rules with a big wad of cash sitting on Free Parking, so they had to leave him there and just let out the other hostages in the basement.
Gotta run. I’m developing a new iPhone app that goes live today. It can tell your age by listening to you pee. It’s a somewhat complex algorithm of starts/stops, drips, and curse words. It has me down as 75, but we have a few bugs to work out.
A six pack of hot Zima gold posted under the fog lamps for today’s rendition of Sparta (which was already the name of a Metro workout over near Freedom park, but nobody seems to care). We ambled and rambled and some took a gamble. Everyone left as a better man than he arrived, or at least a pound or so lighter.
Warmup mile down the sidewalk to Crestdale Middle for some track intervals – 400s and 800s with 50% recovery. Suicides in the main lot until 6AM then run back for 6MOM. Everyone got in over 5 miles.
Nice push by the group this morning. I saw some guys working hard on the track and we kept a pretty tight formation on the trip back. Whip was chomping the bit a little, but he needs to slow down and enjoy the scenery sometimes.
I love taking workouts to brand new locations. It’s like going to that Dave Matthews concert that I heard some guys talking about this morning and hearing “We’re gonna play some new stuff tonight”. Errrbody loves that.
Might rain today. Might not. My friends grandpa once told me that he could forecast the rain by sitting the A/C in his Buick on Bi-Level. If the air from the floor ducts was colder . . . rain’s a comin’. You should try it. You do need a Buick with Bi-Level A/C controls.
Arena proclaimed his love for McHorsey Mondays after his virgin experience this week. I have the Q next week and he gave me the thumbs up thing when I asked him about posting. I think those were thumbs at least.
Thurston is moving to Durham this week. When he was shipwrecked on the island with all of those morons, he only had one copy of the Wall Street Journal which he read over and over. Unshaken by a flatlining S&P, he held tight on some key investments and finally made enough to move the family up to Krzyzewskiville. We wish you well. Tell Lovey we said hi.
Gotta run, Gordon and Percy are getting cross with me.