Three of us rolled up to the A1C ready for a proper beatdown, but we were all looking around wondering where BBQ was. Word on the street is the concert the night before came with some extremely smooth whiskey and bourbon, the kind that convinces a man his alarm clock is optional. Apparently it worked, because BBQ never made it out of bed.

YHC had the queue, so we kicked things off with a warm-up. About three minutes in, rolling in hot like he had somewhere important to be, was Slidell’s own Senior Chief, Hogs Breath. After wrapping up the warm-up on a chilly morning, we decided to break out the Deck of Death. Einstein, being a diamond in the rough, got the diamonds. Moby is the heart of the group, so naturally he took hearts. Hogs Breath looked like he’d been out clubbing all night, so clubs were all his. And me? Well, I drew spades because apparently I’m not that funny before sunrise.

The rules were simple: whenever a card got pulled, whoever owned that suit called the exercise, and the number on the card was the reps. If the joker showed up, congratulations—everyone got an extra lap. Nothing like a little surprise cardio to keep the morning exciting.

All in all, it was a solid workout on a crisp 42-degree morning, with the humidity finally giving us a break for once. Good work by the crew, and everyone have a great weekend.

Jose 10K out.

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