Steve started it! – from Jose10k

We gathered at the marsh this morning, half-asleep, half-sane, but 100% committed to poor decisions involving dice and physical discomfort. It was called “Let’s Roll”.

The Rules Were Simple:

We rolled the dice, then cursed them. Whatever number came up? That’s what we did and how many times we did it. Turns out, Lady Luck is a sweaty sadist.

Roll a 2? Take a lap. That’s right — a “light jog” around the world while rethinking why I allow Bushwacker to talk me into Qing so much.
Roll a 3? Stair sprints. Because nothing says “good morning” like melting calves and existential dread.
Roll a 4? Slow-count merkins. Emphasis on “slow,” because fast would be merciful.
Roll a 5? Burpees. Because we clearly pissed off someone upstairs.
Roll a 6? T-merkins. Nothing bonds men like synchronized chest-to-ground groaning.
Roll a 7? Lunges. Aka “the silent assassin” of thigh muscles. Apparently Russo needs to hit up a casino because he was consistently hitting this number.
Roll another 2? Congrats — you’re doing another freakin’ lap.
Roll an 8? Step-downs — 8 reps per leg. Because symmetry in suffering matters. Katie was specific with form with this exercise.
Roll a 9? Stone Mountains. If you know, you know. If not, imagine pushups that insult your core and ego.
Roll a 10? ETKs on both sides. ETK stands for “Everyone’s Totally Kaput.”
Roll an 11? Freak Nasties. Don’t ask. Just know you’ll never unsee the motion.
Roll a 12? Squats. The cherry on top of the quad-burning sundae.

The air was so humid it felt like we were swimming in someone’s armpit. But despite the oppressive atmosphere and leg betrayal, the banter was elite — full of sarcasm, grunts, and tales of beatdowns past.

Final Thoughts:

If you’re looking for a workout that combines the thrill of gambling with the disappointment of physical pain — “Let’s Roll” is your jam. Come for the dice, stay for the swampy misery and inappropriate jokes. Y’all need to make it out more often — nothing says “I love my brothers” like synchronized suffering in a humid hellscape.

See you next time… or not, depending on what your quads say tomorrow.

Rated R for Ridiculous Reps, Real Sweat, and Rolling Regret

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