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F3 MeCa | February 28, 2021

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Shawshank Special

  • When: The 18th Day of February of the 2021st year
  • QIC: Ol Spud
  • The PAX: Mayweather, Tombstone, Java, Private Ryan, Catfish, Bozeman, Total Package, Scooter, Anvil, Mountie, Homeland

{Morgan Freeman voice initiated}

This is how it came to pass that on the second-to-last post of the week, the 12 pax that battled the elements in the winter of the pandemic of twenty-one wound up sitting in a row at seven o’clock in the morning drinking fiery hot, Bohemia-style coffee, courtesy of the hardest screw that ever walked a turn at F3Concord.

I could see why some of the boys took the warmup for snobby. It had a quiet way about it, a overhang at Concord Eye Clinic that just wasn’t normal around here. He did 20 SSHs, like a man in a park without a care or a worry in the world, like he did 12 Hillbillies and 10 loose changes that would shield him from this place. Yeah, I think it would be fair to say… I liked this workout from the start.

In 2021, 12 pax escaped from the Shawshank beatdown. All they found of Homeland was a muddy set of workout clothes, Private Ryan, and an old red blanket, damn near worn down to the threads. I remember thinking it would take a man six hours to handle this beatdown. Old F3Concord did it in less than one.

Like I said, in prison a man will do most anything to keep his mind occupied. Turns out The Pax’s favorite hobby was a rainy circuit, 10 reps at a time of core killers, low flutters, dry docks, merkins, squats and lunges, with 5 burpees thrown in for good measure.

The pax ran to freedom through twenty five hundred yards of shit smelling foulness I can’t even imagine, or maybe I just don’t want to. Twenty Five hundred yards… that’s the length of twenty five football fields, just shy of two and a half miles.

The concord pax, who ran through a river of shit and came out clean with a Mary Ab blast on the other side.

F3 mornings are funny. First you hate it, then you get used to it. Enough time passes, you get so you depend on it. That’s institutionalized.

Sometimes it makes me sad, though… So many pax in the sack. I have to remind myself that some birds aren’t meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice. But still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they’re gone. I guess I just miss my friends.

I’d like to think that the last thing that went through the councilman’s head, other than that Corndog, was to wonder how ol Mayweather ever got the best of him.

We prayed and named and then sat and drank coffee with the sun on our shoulders and felt like free men. Hell, we could have been working out at the Sportscenter. We were the lords of all creation. As for Spud – he spent that break hunkered in the shade, a strange little smile on his face, watching us drink his coffee.

“Get busy livin, or get busy dying”



  • On February 18, 2021

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