Rolled in for a casual 5 miles and, in a shocking turn of events, the knee decided to behave like a halfway decent teammate. Didn’t hear a peep out of it until the final mile, where it politely tapped me on the shoulder like, “Hey man… remember me?” Mild struggle, nothing dramatic—more of a gentle reminder that I’m not 22 anymore.
Arrived at boot camp expecting the usual crew… and was greeted by absolutely no one. Not even a stray squirrel to judge my form. So, in true high-performance fashion, I led a very exclusive, invite-only workout for myself.
We got after it:
Banded walks (because nothing screams elite athlete like shuffling sideways with rubber bands)
Lunge walks (graceful as a newborn deer)
Resistance band curls (beach muscles don’t build themselves)
Farmer’s carries (imaginary groceries were HEAVY today)
Leg circles and dead bugs (looked exactly as cool as it sounds)
Intensity was low to moderate—right in that sweet spot where you’re working, but could still defend your life choices if questioned.
All in all: miles got logged, knee didn’t revolt, and attendance remained perfect at 100% (1/1).
PAX: Me, Myself, & I
FNGs: 0 (shocking)