"Do you suppose they will choose to make war against lean, solid dogs rather than against fat and tender sheep?"
Today's the day, friends. 24 hours, 40+ miles, with logs, sandbags, PT beatdowns, and surf torture along the way. Wherever you are today, get after it! Hammer along with me and (I'm completely serious about this), please remember my team and me in your thoughts and prayers. I may be Buddhist, but I'm not choosy... Continue Reading →
One school of thought says, “If you lack skill in some athletic event, you can compensate for a lot of your suckage by being strong and brute-forcing it. Therefore, make strength your top conditioning priority.” I have reservations about that, about which I’ll post, but in this particular event, being strong saved me. Had this... Continue Reading →
The infamous “surf torture” was really fun for a short while. It was neat to find out firsthand why it’s so hard. (The answer is that when the waves recede, they pull the sand out from beneath you. Everyone starts tumbling and getting sucked out of line, so when the next wave hits, it’s not... Continue Reading →
"ἢ τὰν ἢ ἐπὶ τᾶς" --Spartan moms in a time before enlightened parenting I am ready to ruck! I’ve trained for weeks, obsessed minutely over man-toys Vitally Important Equipment Choices,™ and I just managed to give myself a second-degree burn with a piece of paracord that caught on fire. (Don’t ask.) But now I’m ready!... Continue Reading →
At last, my beautiful, homely boots are resoled. I doubt whether I’ll outlive these tough old oaks (but I’ll do my best). Our town’s cobbler is a master craftsman and a study in paradox: a stone-cold, tie-dyed hippie, he also has in him something of a Teddy Roosevelt or Friedrich Nietzsche, condemning successive generations’ preference... Continue Reading →
Mud run tomorrow. Behold the Backpack of Bricks (BoB)! I’m defining success as the team (Jason and Michelle Skadisdottir) finishing intact *with* me schlepping the BoB the whole way by any means necessary. (OK, any means that doesn’t involve a golf cart.) In case of Catastrophic Backpack Failure (CBF), the bricks must still get across... Continue Reading →
Behold the face of endorphins! A wise man once told me, "There's magic in loaded carries." I did what I always do with really great advice: I ignored it as long as possible. But 2018 is shaping up as Jason's Year of Loaded Carries. Today's game was to hump Vanya the 32kg Bell and the... Continue Reading →
Today's game was to push the Wheelbarrow of Weights up the Rock of Faeries. Where the incline was gentle, it was pleasant and felt like a funky front squat. But when the path got steep and rocky, the wheelbarrow would pound to a stop on outcroppings and have be manhandled over them (or "personhandled," if... Continue Reading →