Tag: Pebbles

AO: pain-train
Q: Sooie
PAX: G-string, Half Lyfe, Pitmaster, Pebbles, Timber, Cheeks, FLO, Sooie
FNGs: None
COUNT: 8
CONDITIONS:
A brazen red caboose looms impudent beneath a purple sky, tinged with orange heralding the approaching dawn. A waxing gibbous moon, luminous and low, bathes the field in amber glow. Across the dew-drenched grass, cinder blocks lie in wait behind the stage, their silent heft a promise of struggle. The air bites with cold, each breath a fleeting wisp before the heart’s next beat.

0530 strikes, and seven of eight who :hardcommit:’d stand ready in the gloom— G-string yet to grace us. Despite his absence, I resolve to begin by easing our fellowship into the crucible, lest we rend bone from sinew too swiftly.

WARMUP:
Good Mornings (OYO)
– Joint Movements: From head to toes, we loosen the mortal frame, neck to ankles, in solemn preparation.
Now, to rouse the blood!
– SSH (in cadence): 27x, an odd number chosen to vex the orderly mind.
– Merkin Medley: 5 Merkins, 5 Fingertip Merkins (ferkins, perchance?), 5 Knerkins, 5 Diamond Merkins.
We mosey, a purposeful trot up the path claim our cinder blocks from their stage-side lair. Uponst our return journey, two piercing orbs breach the dark—headlights heralding G-string’s arrival. Whether he hath remained on F3 Franklin time or whether he believeth that F3 has no stretching, F3 needs no stretching, we know not. Yet he is here now; the fellowship is whole. Blocks in hand, we align as one, facing cones set at 10 and 20 yards. Dew seeps through our soles, squishing and squelching with each step, yet our hearts burn for battle.

THE THANG:
Each PAX, in turn, braves a block-laden pilgrimage to the cones, while brothers grind AMRAP on exercises decreed by the returning hero. The cone movements, fierce and varied, are thus:
1. Plank Block and Roll: In plank’s rigid embrace, roll the block end o’er end, crawling 10 yards to the near cone and back—a test of core and cunning.
2. Suitcase Carry: Hoist the block as a valise, striding to the 20-yard cone, swapping hands for the return, shoulders screaming fealty.
3. Murder Bunny: A fiendish hop, hands to block, feet to follow, bounding to the 20-yard cone and back, cursing gravity’s pull.

The AMRAP block exercises, called by each returning PAX, reveal a tapestry of torment. I stood aghast at their masochi..err…creativity in the choosing of our exercises. Among them:
– Block Curls
– Block Rows
– Block Presses
– WW2s with Block
– Murder Bunny Bunny Murder
– 21s (7 curls low, then high, then full)
– Alternating Hand Merkins
– Single-Hand Curls
– Goblet Squats
– And sundry others too nefarious for gentle ears.
At this stage of the battle, I would be remiss if I did not record here an account most unfortunate. During the traversal of the plank block roll, an ejaculation of agony rent the dawn. Our beloved Cheeks, in his exuberance and enthusiasm, thusly rolled the block in a manner where, for but an instance, the block and his hand doth occupied the same time and space. I shouted encouragement and promised that this episode would be entered eternally into the digital annals of our struggles. Aside from this minor imprecation, all PAX completed this portion with dignity and aplomb.

The Finale: Hot Squat Block Brigade
Three cone cycles complete, we muster for the rite of closure. I inducted each PAX into the “Hot Squat Block Brigade”. Blocks are stacked, a cairn of conquest, and we form a line, brothers shoulder to shoulder. In low squat’s fiery grip, thighs quaking, we pass each block hand to hand, forging a new pile at the line’s end. Eight minutes hence, through rotations of grit and groans, every PAX has tasted each station. With final heaves, we restore the blocks to their stage-side crypt, our battleground now hallowed by effort.

MOLESKINE:
YHC shared my appreciation for the bonds of brotherhood forged in the crucible of trial.

ANNOUNCEMENTS:
SPRING FLING APPROACHETH!!!!
April: The Month of the FNG, find an FNG near you!

COT:
Prayers mentioned and offered. Sooie Brewie enjoyed by all.

Epilogue:
The PAX, forged anew in the crucible depart stronger, bonded by shared strife. The red caboose stands silent, the moon fades, and the sun claims the sky.