Eldred Returns (LAX)

Guys, it’s a good thing there was a portapotty there, because when I looked up at Eldred I just about shit my pants. The last time our tribe went there was two years ago. It was rainy, and the group that braved legendary Eldred Street was tiny and mighty. Jesse and I joked about going back there for awhile, but not really seriously considering it because you’d have to be nuts to want to attempt anything worse than Baxter. But lately our tribe has been looking deadly hills straight in the eye and saying, “HA! I got this!” and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. As we were leaving Griffith last week an old man emerged from the wilderness and approached me and Jesse wrapped in a velvet cloak. He bowed his head and spoke with a voice dripping with wisdom. “It is time,” he declared. “You must return to Eldred.”

 

A small and fierce 5:30 crew gave way to an impressive amount of 6:30ers ready to brave the beast. On a hill like this, it’s a challenge just to keep moving. You start out with your eyes on the top of the hill, and one minute later the hill has just gotten steeper and all you can see is the yellow road sign that says “END” and you’re thinking, “The end of what? The end of having functional legs? It can’t mean the end of the hill because there’s still 5 flights of stairs for me to climb up!”

The words of encouragement and high fives were flying today, and thank goodness because we desperately needed it to fuel us to the top. Sometimes we gasped it through heavy breaths, sometimes we grabbed onto each other to keep ourselves upright, but no one today popped in headphones and decided to grind this out alone. You need a tribe behind you to bust out that amount of badassness all before work.

But HERE’S THE THING THAT I’M REALLY SHOCKED ABOUT: at both 5:30 and 6:30 I made a joke about there being a burnout (the “burnout” being stretching + language club). Some people were like, “oh shit,” but no one was like, “NO, you’re insane, I can’t do this, I don’t want to do this!” Instead, Joey turns to me and says, “It better be push-ups.” WHAT KIND OF MONSTERS ARE YOU GUYS???? I mean I know your quads are sore but PUSH-UPS after that???????

Way to earn your weekends a million times over, tribe. I sat down to write this blog and now I don’t think I can ever stand up again. You may need to send help.

PS. The man in the velvet cloak was Jonathan London.