October 10th, 2019 By Brian Floyd

18 sturdy men carried their banners into battle for their king this morning whilst the sprite fairy Backdraft slept in, his head full of dreams about fleshy man-jousting no doubt.

WARM UP

Mosey down to parking lot

SSH x20ic

IST x 10ic

Soap Drop x 10ic

Arm circles forward and backward

Oblique stretch

Mosey home to the AO

THANG

The only way to move on from your demons is to face them head on.  And so we recreated the worst first half inning of playoff baseball in history.  Since I woke up this morning and the Cardinals were still scoring, so would we.

1st base (Homeless Shelter) – Core Killers x10

2nd base (Pull-up Bars) – Pull-ups x5

3rd base (Lower Parking Lot) – Squats x20

Home (Rock Garden) – Burpees x10, for the 10 runs given up every which way in a comedy of errors.

MARY

Flutter kicks x10ic just so I could sing my sweet cadence one more time

Supermans

Down Dog

Child’s pose

PRAYERS

Unspoken prayer for Folty after his 30 minute .1 inning last night

Catfish leading national sales meeting this week

TP and Katherine for continued improvement on a long road ahead

PAX to be inspired by the light TP is in the face of adversity

My family with birth of our daughter in coming week

MOLESKIN

Upon arriving at the AO I discovered a gift from the heavens – a mechanical scissor lift fully charged with the keys in the ignition sitting right where we gather in the gloom! Immediately the possibilities flooded my foggy mind. But they would have to wait – I had to exorcise the demons inside me from watching me beloved and chopless Braves be humiliated in game 5. The PAX needed me.

I was early, but not that early. I looked around the AO – no PAX. Immediately I began to wonder, had Hops organized a coup after I stood him up last Thursday? A boycott? No, surely he was too hungover. By the end of the first inning last night he had also already exhausted his bullpen – Daniels, Beam, Dickle, and even his closer Bulleit were all used up by 5:30. Nay, it was some other Judas who betrayed me.  Perhaps he who snitched to Catfish about my impersonations? No matter, if no PAX show up I shall just beat myself then.  Uh, wait…forget I said that.  Just as I gave up hope I saw something off in the horizon. A glimmer of light, a glimmer of…hope. Could it just be a shooting star? No, the light’s movement was too linear. It had to be man made. It got closer and there were 2 of them. “Headlights!” I thought to myself. They pulled into the AO, backed into a parking spot like a 72 year old man in a crowded parking deck, the door opened, and one by one 2 hairy little legs stepped out. It was Anvil, already sweaty before the beatdown on a 50 degree morning. Shoulders hunched, he glanced around the AO with fidgeted head movements like a wild animal. I waved from my car, but he didn’t see me in the dark. I realized that I had a rare opportunity to catch a glimpse of a Running Q in his natural habitat, so I sat quietly and watched. He snorted and let out a growl at the moon before going on his pre-run-run. Majestic. Once he arrived, naturally PAX came out of the woodwork gathering like pups to the teet. So predictable. The beatdown was therapeutic and helped us all to move on and focus on football season. For Mary the PAX gathered ’round the mechanical scissor lift where I arose like a phoenix from the ashes and addressed my subjects like a South American dictator from his ivory tower.  After an excited speech about Los Estados Unidos with lots of hand gestures, the PAX bowed before me in childs pose as l looked out at my kingdom finally feeling the respect I deserve around here.

Thankful every day for this group, even Backdraft. Watching the game yesterday and I couldn’t help but think about the self-destruct sequence that’s so easy to go through.  Bad things happen to us, it’s a fact of life. Sometimes terrible things happen. But in life there’s no 10 run rule, and there’s no bullpen to relieve you.  Just like teammates in the game, in our lives we have families/employees/co-workers/clients who are all counting on us to be at our best despite our own hopelessness.  When the bases are loaded and you’re behind on the count its up to you to get it together, cowboy up, compartmentalize, and dial in. As husbands and fathers we don’t have the luxury of self-pity or despair.  F3 gives me a place and a group of friends to help me stay focused, stay positive, and start my day right.

(In cadence) AH-ONE, TWO, THREE, AYYYYYYYE!

-Mayweather

 

Backblast, Concord

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