My message to the PAX today was to recognize that you are special for being a part of F3, and because you are part of F3, we are special together. I cannot overstate that point. Each of us needs that reminder periodically. You are part of F3 and by virtue of that membership, you have superpowers. You have a network. You have access to people willing to help you. You have men who want to show you the better parts of themselves, and men who will ask you to help them with their worst. The benefits of these superpowers supersede the benefits of any other club membership. They bleed into different parts of your life, if you are committed and, I guess, a bit lucky. The businessmen will call it competitive advantage. The fatalists will call it natural selection. The capitalists will call us socialists. The naysayers will throw shade on us, reducing it to a cult or spitting (sometimes homophobic) humblebrags about how they need Crossfit or the weight room. Be all this as it may – I don’t make the rules of life, and I often misunderstand them – the steady drumbeat of F3’s lifeforce marches on. Be a part of it, and recognize that you are a very integral part of its wonderful sound.
Wake up and give yourself credit for taking that first step, which is the hardest step. In that moment, reflect upon that step, that step which is without guile and pure and earnest. You say everything you need to know about yourself with that one step. That man is moving forward. That man is capable of change. That man is willing to let go of the past and embrace the future. He is willing to work on himself and help others. Be that man for the rest of the day. Be that man for the rest of the week. Remember who you were in that moment when you woke up. Wind at your back this morning (this week, this month, this year), enjoy the propulsion that comes with being part of our group. But remember, the wind will do what the wind does. It will change direction. Be the man who knows his way forward, and take heart: if you feel lost or need a kick in the ass, we’ll be here for you.
Stay that man while your instrument of chaos and hypoxia, your humble mutha’freakin’ Q, brings the ruckus to you dark and early, as advertised. If you don’t like it, well, you get what you pay for. Here’s the beatdown. If you weren’t there, you’re square .
On the hill next to the Science Dr. parking lot: 20 jump squats, bunny hop to top, 20 merkins. Back down. 20 tuck jumps, backwards run to top, 20 merkins. Here I was accused of an impartial affinity for the posterior chain. Guilty.
Over to Cameron. Never one to be accused of turning down song requests, YHC honored Grunge’s plea for more bunny hops right off the…jump? After bunny hopping up the stairs twice, we gathered for 10 manmakers. Having been made men, or so we thought, we decided not to look the part for a while. Passersby were treated by 9 fully grown men crawling up the stairs backwards, pumping out 20 dips, and then bear-crawling down the stairs head-first. After 20 burpees, we then backwards crab-walked the stairs, did 20 derkins, and then forward crab-walked down. Then after 20 jump lunges, we executed a traveling merkin up and down the stairs, split down the middle with 20 erkins.
At this point it only made sense to stretch our legs a bit. We traveled to the long road next to Koskinen, where we embarked upon the longest suicide that YHC has ever completed. We hit three stadium lights; the bend in the road created an optical illusion, and, combined with the lack of oxygen hitting all the good parts, created a state of delirium in which the longest suicide known to YHC was born. Partners completed manmakers while others ran, because had not yet been made men enough by the manmakers called that day.
Running out of time, we name-o-rama’d on the mosey back. We thought about those who needed uplifting. We offer prayers, wishes, and heartfelt positive energy to Happy Trees, who has undergone hernia surgery, and also those who continue to work on the relationship with spouses and significant others.