Here’s the exclusive on the Jump Squat Gang that formed at the top of the Alta Plaza stairs this morning: they’re exclusive.
Today’s workout involved 5 exercise stations spread out around the park. The group was split into fifths and then sent in groups to each station. The rules were simple, if at an exercise station you were required to do the exercise until tagged. If tagged, you were required to sprint to the next exercise station and tag someone else. This results in a big continuous loop of folks running from station to station, tagging at random and relieving individuals from their exercise. Mark Noviski dubbed it “The Blender”, which I approve.
USUALLY this results in people doing burpees (or other equally devilish exercises) for 2 to 3 minutes at a time and begging for mercy when someone runs over with a fresh tag to dole out. Today however, the jump squat folks at the top of the stairs got a little too chummy. Maybe it was the 80 degree weather, or the glorious sunrise, but Jump Squat Gang did NOT want to be tagged/relieved. They seemed happy to just hang out atop those stairs, take in the view, and, you know, maybe even squat from time to time.
Consequently, when folks from the push-up station came flying up the stairs, expecting to see strained faces desperate for the valuable tagging ability only they possessed, they were instead met with averted stares, a general lack of acknowledgement, and a bunch of backs turned to them as Jump Squat Gang huddled up in an exclusive little circle, hoping not to be chosen.
It’s how I imagine baby carrots feel when they’re all hanging out in their baby carrot bag. They’re all having a good time, mixing it up, being carrots, and for a little while they think, hey, it might be cool to get chosen by this weird giant hand that’s coming in here. That might make me feel special. But then they realize the weird giant hand is attached to a weird giant person that has a weird giant mouth with RAZOR SHARP TEETH AND A MANDIBLE STRONG ENOUGH TO PULVERIZE BABY CARROTS INTO A HORRIFIC ORANGE DEATH MASH!!! In this metaphor the burpees at station 5 is the hand… or the teeth, or something. I don’t know… this blog is falling apart… I have to work now.
See you FRIDAY, 6:30am, Corona Heights Park!Share via socials: