WARMUP: Ruck to the Etowah to check out the floodplain deposition

THE THANG:
Five brave souls, led by Oxbow, set out in the pre-dawn arctic tundra (aka subfreezing Georgia) to conquer the legendary Gatorhead path. Spirits were high, despite the temperature being low enough to freeze a penguin’s eyelids. Slum Lord, in an apparent effort to prove his dominance over winter, arrived wearing shorts. Shorts. In 20-degree weather. Because why not?

The ruck started smooth, but that didn’t last. Oxbow, channeling his inner Magellan, confidently led the PAX… straight off the actual trail and into the untamed wilderness of Governor’s Preserve. Somewhere near Edwards Creek, with no clear path in sight, we decided the best course of action was to simply make our own trail. If Lewis and Clark could do it, why not us?

As we trudged through the unknown, Oxbow’s headlamp decided it had enough of our nonsense and died at the most inopportune time. So now we were off course and partially blind—solid combo. When it came time to cross Edwards Creek, Slum Lord, ever the adventurer, picked the absolute deepest section to wade through. Meanwhile, Hopper, defying all expectations, found a reasonable way across—an achievement worthy of sarcastic praise from Sooorie himself.

Back on the actual trail (or at least something resembling one), we encountered the next boss battle: a glorious mud pit. At this point, boots were soaked, feet were frozen, and morale was… well, still pretty solid because misery loves company. Through sheer determination (and the knowledge that warmth awaited at the end), we pressed on.

Finally, we ensured The Chad got his full four miles in, because priorities, and made our victorious return. Frozen, muddy, and slightly traumatized, but victorious nonetheless.

MARY: None

ANNOUNCEMENTS: Doing this again next week. Hot Sauce Ruck

COT: Excellent time solving the world’s problems over coffee. Oxbow learned what concentrica is. Thanks Sooorie.