Seven Would-Be Warriors
Sun barely cracked the gray,
fog still thick on the trail.
Seven Would-Be Warriors
shouldered their 10-pound ring weights—
the ones they called Cock Rings—
and started the climb.
Dirt underfoot, roots reaching up
like they wanted a piece of someone.
They sprinted the hill anyway,
breath tearing, legs burning,
trying not to catch a toe and eat earth.
Hundreds of deep curl squats
hammered out between the runs.
Merkins in the gloom.
Pull-ups in rotation on whatever low bar would hold.
A wall climb that left hands raw.
More pull-ups.
Then the finish:
two full minutes of Mary-style burpees,
chest to dirt, jump and clap,
over and over
until the call of time finally cut them loose.
Seven of them,
breathing hard in the early light,
still standing.
Names, Numbers, Prayers and announcements.
Nancy prayed in his elegant form
for our sinful ways.
It was great seeing Mr. Rogers at the Dog Pile!
Have a great weekend, gents. Thanks for letting me lead!