PAX: Maneater, Wet Tap, Roxbury, Safety Valve, Pope, America’s Best, Popeye, Goose

AO: The Stage

By: Goose

8 brave PAX gathered for the last below-freezing beatdown for at least a few weeks. Can’t say we’ll miss the crispy, yet wet grass and the painfully numb hands, but there’s a certain level of masculinity one feels when you have to scrape the ice off your windshield knowing that you’ll be shedding layers before the sun’s even up.

Speaking of which, America’s Best employed an interesting strategy this morning inspired, I guess, by Kenny from Southpark or Randy from A Christmas Story. He came wrapped in a scarf that was long enough to cover his neck, his face, and the rest of him. He didn’t even wear pants. Or shorts. Just the scarf. And, since he wasn’t running, it actually worked out. As he got warmer, it just kind of slowly piled up next to him as he shed layer(s?).

Today is the Feast of the Presentation, and we celebrated by having the runners traverse (more than) the 6 miles between Bethlehem and the Jerusalem Temple, and the non-runners yearn like old prophets for their arrival. Sounds weird, but it went like this:

Runners took staggered turns pairing up to run the half mile loop (the new street to the pool and back down the opposite stretch). One would switch with a new runner when they passed the Stage, so each man always ran a full mile, but their partner was different every half mile. (Partner 1 and 2 run one loop, then P1 drops off and P3 joins P2 for the next. Once they circle back, P2 drops off, and P4 joins P3 for the next loop, etc.)

Popeye, AB, and YHC stayed put with everyone who wasn’t currently running to grind out an exercise Tabata-style until a loop was completed (4-6 minutes, depending). The exercises were AMRAP of the following, 40 seconds exercise, 20 seconds rest:
-Freddy Mercs
-Curls
-Goblet squats
-WW3 Situps
-Block wife pleasers
-Merkins
-Lunges
-Block LBC’s

Like the prophets Simeon and Anna, we felt at times like salvation would never come, but it always did.  It felt like way more than four of five minutes, but the tiny, silhouetted figures did inevitably appear from behind the dumpsters. Unlike the aged prophets, the waiting wasn’t replaced by the sweet relief of death, but by cold concrete, numb hands, and a different set of burning muscles.  But, at least it was a different set.

Pope and Roxbury warmed up a little, Valve is furiously researching gloves that actually work on cold cinder blocks, Wet Tap did a good job of hiding his distaste for running and his preference for the coupon, Maneater did not, and Popeye was the only one who brought some conversation to what was otherwise an unusually quiet Stage.  Maybe he was trying to distract himself from the rapid pace at which his body heat was being conducted out of him by all the metal holding him together.  The jukebox microchip in his brain came close to shutting down to preserve power.

Eventually, after two and a half hours, the final lap finally came.  Yes, all things do eventually do come to an end (except for AB’s scarf, thankfully) so we COT’d, and Roxbury prayed us out.

Thanks for posting in the cold, fellas.  It’s good to share the experience that there are hard things worth doing, and my gratitude for this amazing crew continues to grow.

SYITG,
Goose