WARMUP: Ruck

THE THANG:

The morning started as all great pre-church rucks do—questionable life choices, moist air, and an immediate realization that Governor’s Preserve is more vertical than horizontal. The trails were slick, the hills were steep, and Hopper was thrilled that we never made it to the creek, likely because he knew someone (probably him) would have ended up swimming in the name of “ruck training.”

Meanwhile, FMB and Slumlord were men on a mission—not to escape, but to spread the Good News at record pace. Fueled by a heated theological discussion, they took off like two disciples late for the Sermon on the Mount, leaving the rest of us in their holy dust.

Hopper and Hooter, realizing the breakaway duo was moments from crossing state lines, had no choice but to unleash a wake-the-neighborhood-level “TURN AROUND!” The sound echoed through the hills, ensuring that if the local residents weren’t planning to attend church, they at least heard a call to repentance.

The Chad, nursing a knee that was clearly displeased with the elevation profile, trudged forward like a true HIM, proving that pain is just weakness leaving the body—or maybe just an old injury reminding you that you’re not 25 anymore.

In the end, we all made it back with lessons learned:
1. Governor’s Preserve is an ankle’s worst nightmare.
2. Slumlord and FMB weren’t lost—they were just spiritually inspired speed demons.
3. Hopper’s definition of a successful ruck is one that does not involve unexpected water crossings.
4. The Chad’s knee may or may not require an exorcism.

Miles were crushed, faith was strengthened, and the neighborhood definitely knows we exist. SYITG!

MARY: copperhead squats, over head press, burpees, wait, no burpees we ran out of time

ANNOUNCEMENTS: GP again next weekend

COT: Spoken and unspoken