With fresh legs from a Lunge-Walk-Indian-Run, 20 men and loyal friends donning orange safety shirts gathered on a cool 81 degree morning to help 1 boy become a man. More notable were those that were not there. El Ab, Psycho T, Homeland, and Luthor must have been down at A.L. Brown securing their season passes for Wonder Football.

For you “friends” who weren’t there, here’s what went down…like you even care:

Warm Up:

Mosey down to a parking lot that probably has a name that I don’t know

SSH x 20 4ct

IST x 10 4ct

Windmill x 10 4ct

Mosey back to ASEC

Thang:

Team of 3 relay

Lap AO – 1 man doing exercise at each point until relieved by relay runner

2 points – pull-up bars and rock garden

Pull-up bars: 10 x pull-ups total and plank until relieved AUDIBLE! supplement air squats in with endless plank to break it up

Rock garden: 20 x man makers total and WW2’s AUDIBLE!! 10 x man makers total

Repeato til 0605

Finisher:

50 total Merkins/LBC’s on your own

Assembly line handing off blocks and rocks back where they belong. Proper handoff is at chest level, eye contact, dicks to yourselves

Down dog

Runners stretch

Child’s pose M/L/R

1 x LBC in cadence

Toppem Hat’s eye

Healing for Anita, MM’s youth pastor

Continued improvement for Cupid’s mother

The morning probably began like any other for most of you. But for me it was different. Special. I awoke early with a rare vigor and a pep in my step, grinning with anticipation. I knew there was nothing new about myself yet, but soon all that would change. I knew I would remember this day for the rest of my life. I knew that TODAY…the boy becomes a man. I changed out of my fire truck jammies and eagerly drove to the AO to finally start making up the workout that would change everything. I arrived early. Too early. I found myself looking out over the field of battle where the men would give their all. It was like placid water moments before adult swim ends – quiet, peaceful, unaware of the coming chaos, almost frozen in time. The wind gently finding its way through the trees from the east, birds chirping, meth heads sleeping peacefully in the picnic shelter. Nature is truly a masterpiece. It was hard to imagine the carnage that would take place on this blank canvas within the hour. Soon it would begin, and soon it would be over. Soon…I would be a man.

HARK! The men have begun to arrive, proudly clad in the orange of champions. At first I am nervous, I don’t want to let them down. I can’t let them down. The stakes are too high. I begin to doubt myself.

But just then, a familiar figure emerges from the shadows. As he steps into the light his features slowly reveal themselves. Short. Round. Hair grizzled on his face, chest, shoulders, and back. Shirt dry, yet ready for the pending saturation that undoubtedly awaited. That twinkle in his eye. Could it be him? Surely not, I haven’t seen him in days. Maybe weeks? As the light slowly crept onto his face it became unmistakeable. It was the F3 MECA Run Q. “You grizzly son of a gun” I chuckled to myself under my breath as a dap him up. A sudden calm came over me because I knew first hand that Anvil is always in control. When you think he isn’t in control, is when he has you right where he wants you. I knew I had to just let go and let Anvil.

Next Indy arrived – shorts short, yellow teeth grinning through his wild beard, and bloodshot eyes wide with possibility. My previous encounter with him was just over the clothes stuff. But this was the big leagues now kid. He looked at me and I looked back at him and confidently said “Not today, Silver Fox…not today!”

One by one I watched my friends appear before me. Spud in a familiar yellow tank top that once lead me to a costly mistake in this game of inches. Catfish with a star spangled do-rag. Backdraft disguised as a rainbow pirate. But not all of my friends. No sign of El Abogado, Psycho T, Luthor, or Homeland. Suddenly I was 8 years old again in my school play anxiously looking out among the crowd for a father that would not be there. No way they’d stand me up? We’d been through too much together. It must be early still, they’ll show. They probably just hit the usual 0500 traffic on Branchview. Yeah relax, they’ll be here. Just then Skinner comes trotting out of the darkness. I don’t even have to look at my watch to know it’s 5:29 and 59 seconds and my friends were not coming. No matter, war waits for no man.

We embark. A finer cadence was never sung nor heard for the exotic warm-up exercises. The men began to thirst for pain, wild for it like rabid animals. And so they would have it. Like all virgins before me, I came out of the gate…a bit overzealous. The real thing is different than the soft reliable glow of the internet. You’ve got to develop a feel for it, get your timing down and react to the men. But when it was done, this man stood in place of the boy I was. I headed Starbucks gently stroking the mustache I grew on the drive there. I walked in like The U in the 80’s, struck a match across the stubble on my square jaw and lit a Lucky Strike filterless cigarette, took a smooth long drag, and ordered a scotch on the rocks.

Lots of great chatter, mostly about my unmatched physical prowess. Once home, Mrs. Mayweather could sense something different about me and it obviously drove her wild, but I denied her the pleasures of the flesh as I had a Back Blast to write while chopping firewood in the backyard.

A joy to lead today, but nothing compared to the joy of following alongside you men these last 6 months. I’ve been through a lot in my short life, but nothing ever came close to breaking me until 2018 which destroyed me. I may never get back to the guy I was, but that’s ok because I’m learning to like the guy I am. And F3 has played a role in that.

“Live. Laugh. Love.”

-BCR