YHC went into this morning with much hope of being a part of a large group of F3 HIMs pushing hard together through a well curated beatdown before entering the 5K race of the year to represent in an undeniable way the benefits of F3 to the wider Thibodaux community. All would see the black-shirted clan exuding brotherhood, confidence, and joyful tenacity as we swept through the crowd singing sea shanties and laughing at one another’s clever jokes. Instead, YHC and Pope pulled into The Peltch late and stressed only to see a large, Gigi’d man and his smaller companion running toward me up the road, away from the park. Confused, YHC rolled down the window and asked Tana and Paradox where the heck they were going at 6:31am. They shared that they were the only ones there, and they figured a short mosey would get them warmed up nicely before YHC, the Q, got there. Although this was a little disheartening, the fact that Tana was wearing a headband the exact color of the Gigi lifted YHC’s spirits considerably, not to mention the promise of solid quality time with both the big man and Paradox. And, knowing that Yankee Joe (dealing with family stuff) and Wet Tap (facilitating birth) would be joining us for the run gave YHC some hope that it would be an enjoyable day even if we didn’t overwhelm the city of Thibodaux with the glory of F3.
After a warmup of the usual suspects, we grabbed coupons and moseyed over to the Thunderdome for some Dora to score some points, log some miles, and get the legs warmed up. While one partner chipped away at 200 curls and 200 Big Boys, partner two ran around the building. This took some time, and it may have established the Broga/Yoda mat as the ideal situp platform. Tana confirmed both its springiness and its ease on the posterior, and YHC wouldn’t be surprised if more were found dragging one around for the month of May like Linus with his blue blankie.
Next, YHC introduced these fellas to the Turbo Tax Tennis Ball Thang. Enron, YJ, and Dilly enjoyed the strain it provided last week as well as the competition, so YHC figured we’d give it another go. This time, the same partners moved from the Thunderdome to the gate by the track and back–the man with the ball can’t move, but has to throw it to his partner who can. If it was dropped, both partners had to complete 5 genuflections. Pope and Paradox came out swinging with long throws and acrobatic catches, which of course led to many drops and many genuflections. YHC and Tana went for shorter lobs and an easy rhythm, and with not a single drop, outpaced the younger team by many units of measurement. After waiting for the losing team to finally arrive after their 85th genuflection, it was time to mosey back to the flag for some pre-race stretching.
It was here that we learned that Tana had never stretched a day in his life and couldn’t actually bend his knee more than one or two degrees on account of his quads being as tight as cold rubber. We had also learned earlier that on the previous day, Tana had run something like 8 miles around his neighborhood and played 16 straight hours of pickleball into the wee hours of the morning. We were in awe at his willingness to run a 5K after all that (though later events would prove that our awe was unfounded).
Wet Tap arrived with Redfish with about 2 minutes left of stretching, and we followed one another to the fairgrounds. After parking, the owner of the home in front of which we had parked came out and asked how long we’d be there. He wanted to mow his yard before it rained. We promised to be out of there before 9:30, and this seemed to assuage him. On the way in, Paradox must have said about 17 times that it was his first time running an official race, and Redfish shared that he’s been in about 17 of them, starting at the age of 2.
At the registration tent every third person had their phone out showing everyone around them the radar, which looked like a death blob flying toward us. In typical fashion, the mob just waited for someone else to tell us it wasn’t a good idea to run through a lightning storm, and since they didn’t, we lined up. We were in the middle of calculating our chances of survival when YJ sauntered up in full firefighter gear: tank, coat, hat, boots and everything. It was a sight to behold. It seemed he and his boys were gonna run this thing in 70 lbs. of firefighting gear. (That ought to rack up some points!). Not sure if he chose that himself, but what a dude.
It was also during this time that Tana made his actual intentions clear. He let us know at the registration tent that he had to run back to his car for his credit card (though Paradox paid with cash no problem…). And, while we were lining up and looking for his head poking up over the crowd, Paradox got a text that said something like, “I got to the car, I looked at the radar, I got scared, and I peeled out. It’s every man for himself. I think the world is coming to an end. And my legs are tired.” So, it would be four of us.
Soon, it was time to start (a bit chaotically), and we took off into the darkening horizon. After about a half a block, a lightning bolt slammed into the ground about a mile away as if to set the tone for what would be a memorable experience. Not long after that, the little bitty stinging rain started coming in sideways, and it only increased in size and quantity as the race went on. The lightning and thunder were constant, like a soundtrack for four manly men moving at a moderate pace through sheets of rain along busy highways. At one point, we were actually singing sea shanties (it seemed fitting in the driving rain), and we were enjoying one another’s company so much that the finish line snuck up on us. We pushed hard for the last hundred yards or so, but YHC felt sad that it was over. There was no possibility of winning the race, so we were able to enjoy the unique experience of running around Thibodaux in a storm with good brothers for a good cause. It was a memory maker, for sure, and I found myself wishing we had three more miles.
We were done and headed to the cars by about 8:30, but no matter how early we were, old boy wasn’t gonna be cutting his grass today. YHC was grateful for the camaraderie, the seat covers, and even the rain this morning. The rest of you fartsackers missed out!
SYITG,
Goose
FYI: The Q-sheet has reached the place where it’s basically gonna be YHC and Yankee Joe from here on out unless you start putting your name in there. It doesn’t matter if it’s close or far away, get on the schedule! Q-ing is your “down-painment” for the gift of F3 in your life!
