A Jewish Baker’s Dozen

The BackBlast:

BACKSTORY:

I imagine living with me’s a real treat. Being my kid’s even better.

I wanna do that, Dad. Okay. Can we do that, Dad? Sure. Can I have drums? You don’t play drums. What about band practice, Dad?! Nice drum kit, Kid.

I spoil ‘em. I know I do.

Let me set the table. Family dinner a month or so back, I’m regaling my son with F3 days of yore.

It’s a familiar tale. I remember when… blah, blah, blah… I recount a stampede of men hammering asphalt, chasing fitness…blah, blah, blah… I said it better at the dinner table. I said it just fine, his eyes go wide…

I wanna do that! Sorry. It’s not really a thing anymore. We need a Monday. Our schedules conflict. Can’t do a Muthaship Saturday. Doesn’t make any sense. No one knows what that is! Too confusing. We need a Monday. We need PAX to make it real.

Dang, that’s too bad. Sounds fun!

Does it? Does it sound fun? It did.

I spoil ‘em. I know I do.

THE THANG:

AMRAP. Merkins.

Four circuits in and we’re strung out like Cynthia on a Labor Day weekend Bud Light binge. Grunting. Miserable. Not having fun. At all.

Intermittent use of stairs to protect our knees. I get an “all clear” from Nabisco. Tenant’s moved out.

Converge at the top. COP. Stairs x 2. COP.

Down the ramp. Suicide to 2 to 4 to the nipple.

Mary hooks us up with some breathe-right before the shakeout home.

NOTES:

Pull in. Bologna, you feeling it? Nods. Take my glasses off. Blind as a bat, but I know the way.

Moonshine? That you. I feel his face. It is.

Taffy. Gridlock. Nabisco. Newport. Thanks for coming, fellas! I appreciate your willingness to subject your joints to the pain.

Stride up together. It felt right. Nabisco sets the tone on the Mutha. We settle into our grind. Would have been favorable to have a twenty-to-forty-something to chase but the twenty-to-forty something PAX didn’t show up. Well, Gridlock showed up. Aside from being matinee-idol handsome, dudes got solid wheels. He and Nabisco (aged 47 and hasn’t lost a step) held their own and used me to taper for BRR.

The workout by this stage, as stated, sucked and I was gassed.

I audible out and bootcamp the shit out of the back half.

COT. Go our separate way.

Newport went to Latta. Taf went to wherever it is Taf goes. Gridlock mentioned pancakes. I forget what Nabisco said, if anything. He’s kinda quiet.

Moonshine went to an after-hours “massage” parlor. He holds a lot of tension in his upper thighs.

We went to Starbucks. The kid wanted an iced salted caramel macchiato.