F3 New Orleans

Tag: TurboDog

  • I love the 80s – from Jose10k

    80s had the greatest entertainment

    YHC made his long-awaited return to the A1C after a tropical “vacation” that was equal parts Club Med and Gilligan’s Island, with a wardrobe sponsored by TSA incompetence. I arrived early because as usual, I couldn’t sleep. I picked 80s music on my Pandora, desperately trying to change up my playlist to appease Cowbell. I started thinking of all the excellent 80s movies: The Terminator, Flashdance, Weird Science, Maximum Overdrive, Tango and Cash, The Princess Bride, and The Last Dragon. Feel free to add your favorite in the comments, I can’t wait to see Hammer’s favorites. Anyways, I was happy to be back at the A1C. Don’t get me wrong, the Mandeville AOs are cool—kind of like a John Hughes movie where everyone is polite but the A1C? That’s pure RoadHouse—gritty, shirtless, and occasionally bloody. If you think about it though, Mandeville has its own 80s movie stars:
    Steve-Michael J Fox- come on, he’s definitely Marty McFly or Alex P. Keaton
    Russo-Robin Williams- He’s Mork mainly due to the excess hair or Roddy Pipper as Nada in They Live
    Shooter-Jesse the Body Ventura as Blain in the Predator- “I ain’t got time to bleed”
    Bushwacker-John Ritter as Jack Tripper in Threes Company

    Any who, I could continue, but I need to write this back blast….

    My boy Moby, youthful as ever, joined me in our ritual prethang laps. Then Darkwing swooped in, looking like he just stepped off the set of Batman, and it was time to party.

    Warm-ups kicked off while I regaled the crew with the highlight reel from my Caribbean adventure: Luggage: lost somewhere between Miami and “whoops. Swimwear: makeshift combo of sports bra and gym shorts which reminded me of Flashdance lol. Snorkeling with octopi and tropical fish gave off “The Abyss” type of vibe. Underwater sculptures and plenty of Caribbean rum.

    Then came the Ladder of Fun
    10 Sumo Squats – Drop it low like you’re trying to impress Prince in 1984. Sprint down the stairs and up the ramps like you’re chasing after One Eyed Willy’s treasure while listening to Cindy Lauper. Back at the top add 10 Lunges (2 is 1) – Richard Simmons would be proud of us so far, God rest his soul. Run again. Add 10 Monkey Humpers – Do y’all remember that goofy movie: Howard the Duck. Run Again. Add 10 Dirkins – Pushups, but make it Miami Vice—cool, cocky, and boat shoes with no socks, blazers with the arms rolled up. Run again. Add 10 Freak Nasties. Run again. Finish with 10 Burpees
    COT with intentions for Darkwings mother and mother in law. The Zoorich classic is tomorrow. Time for some pain and frisbee golf.

    “Pain fades, glory lasts, and monkey humpers are forever – Sir Richard Simmons

  • 52 Get-Ups at The A1c – from Einstein

    Beautiful morning, at the A1C ~ probably nearing last of the pleasant days
    before the heat and humidity really kicks in.

    WARMUP: all IC15x; toe touch, side staddle hops, snap-crackle-pops,
    shoulder rolls, book covers, popeyes, side to side lunges, etc.

    THANG: Deck of Doom – with one rule; everyone has to get up off their six
    between card draws – hence the 52 get-ups.

    Diamonds – run up card value of stripes, back peddle return.
    Clubs – merkins
    Spades – scorpian kicks 2-is-1
    Hearts – iron crosses

    Mary: a set of Fletch Stretch hip openers wrapped up the workout

    DarkWingDuck prayed us out with intentions for Fletch’s mom.

  • Jose10K’s Sweat-Fest Recap: Moby is a lean, mean, fighting machine – from Jose10k

    So there we were—5 a.m., still basically night, but nature decided to bless us with 78 degrees of muggy disrespect, lightly garnished with a breeze that said, “This is the best you’re getting, deal with it.”

    Darkwing and Fletch rolled in, and with them, a historic moment: the legendary Run Cajun Run shirt was finally returned to its rightful owner—cue the slow clap. And of course, Old Faithful Moby showed up, reliable as that one knee that pops every time you stand up.

    We kicked it off with 5 minutes of warm-ups—code for “let’s convince our joints not to mutiny.” After a good stretch that felt like we were all auditioning for a Richard Simmons “Sweating to the Oldies” yoga DVD, we made our way to the courthouse for a classic round of 11s.

    Here’s the deal:
    • Merkins at the bottom
    • Run up the courthouse steps like Rocky Balboa
    • Hit the Copperhead Squats at the top—slow, painful
    • Then a leisurely jog all the way back down and around the courthouse, which somehow gets bigger every round.

    Repeat. For 45 glorious minutes. A symphony of sweat, pain, and the occasional existential crisis.

    The mumble chatter was strong—somewhere between therapy session and roast battle. Next Friday, Moby turns 75, which means his cue is legally required to contain both wisdom and at least one threat of injury. Tomorrow is Marsh Madness, where a new champion will be crowned. And don’t forget May 10th—Barely Legal is throwing down with the second annual F2 Extravaganza.
    Jose10K out. May your soreness be short and your coffee strong.

  • Moby is back to running!! – from Jose10k

    Ah yes, another fine gathering of elite athletes (and their AARP sponsors) at the peak of the A1C—where the air is crisp, the sweat is questionable, and the soundtrack is straight from your uncle’s favorite road trip mixtape. And yes Cowbell, most of my songs repeat. It’s the Pandora algorithm that suits me. I can’t help it if great music comes out of my hip pocket. A few usuals weren’t in attendance. We were without Fletch, BBW, and Darkwing. Surprising because the temperature was above the required 60 degrees for Darkwing to attend. Who knows?

    This morning, a young stallion (that’s me) led a herd of silver foxes in a ritual of pain, otherwise known as “11s.” After a five-minute warm-up (which for some was just mentally preparing to move), the squad got down to business. Merkins at the top of the ramp? No problem. Copperhead Squats at the bottom? Sure, as long as no one’s knees filed a formal complaint. It was how we travelled back and forth was the interesting aspect. Introducing the ramp games:—a chaotic display of movement variety that could only be described as “fitness meets interpretive dance.” Sprints turned into backwards jogs, which morphed into side shuffles, then into karaoke steps (though some of us just looked like we were dodging bees). Forward lunges, reverse lunges, duck walks—basically, a leg day so brutal that tomorrow’s stairs will require a life alert button.

    Just when we thought survival was near, it was time for a stair sprint, calf raises (because why not), and a ten-minute Mary session that made abs scream for mercy.

    In the end, sweat was shed, egos were bruised, and somewhere, a classic rock legend shed a single tear of approval. See you all next time… if we can still walk. Two weeks from now, April 11th, Moby, the eldest of our group turns 75, and he has promised to bring the pain. Come out and pay your respects and be impressed with this young lads intensity.

  • SIR LUNGE-A-LOT rerun at the A1c – from Einstein

    Cool this morning, on this second day of Spring, at the A1C ~ 41 degrees.
    Beautiful Moon according to BBQ – a waning gibbous according to Moby

    WARMUP: all IC15x; toe touch, side staddle hops, snap-crackle-pops,
    shoulder rolls, high jack hi jills, book covers, popeyes, shoulder shrugs, butt kicks,
    high knees, etc.

    THANG:
    Set 1 12 forward reaching lunges
    12 regular merkins
    repeat above set 1 sequence 2 more times
    mosey down the stairs, then run up the ramps

    Set 2 12 lateral reaching lunges
    12 pike merkins
    repeat above set 2 sequence 2 more times
    mosey down the stairs, then run up the ramps

    Set 3 12 posterior reaching lunges
    12 scapula merkins
    repeat above set 3 sequence 2 more times
    mosey down the stairs, then run up the ramps

    Mary: upper deck for some star jacks, dirkins , irkins, rocky balboas, freak nasties,
    and a set of BBQ’s hip openers

    Moby prayed us out with intentions for Jose10K’s mom.

  • Hey! Who Stole Our Blocks? – from Einstein

    Cool morning at The Gipper this morning ~ 49 degrees –
    with Moby rolling up in his newly acquired golf cart, looking like Mr. Magoo, driving all
    over the AO. Barely Legal arrived soon after, sans golf cart, but with golf cart tales to share.

    WARMUP: toe touch, side straddle hops, shoulder rolls, hi-jack hi-jills, butt kicks, high knees,
    snap crackle pops, book covers, popeyes, side to side lunges, etc.

    THANG:
    Mosey to the back of the supply shed to grab the coupons.
    Holy Moly! They blocks are gone! YHC redirected the pax to the Berock Quarry Rock Garden –
    where we borrowed the Garden Club’s blocks.
    Three sets of coupon work seperated by a run around the Covington Triangle;
    Sets included: curls, rows, overhead press, side rows, grave diggers, blockies,
    windshield wipers, murder bunnies, sit-ups, etc

    Mary:
    Finished with Jane Fondas and a one minute planks

    T-Claps to Moby for running, not one – but two, laps around the Covington Triangle.

    Barely Legal prayed us out.

  • Financial Literacy – from Jose10k

    Moby, a 75-year-old legend who claims he once out-sprinted a bill collector, and Jose10k , a young guy who thinks “compound interest” is a gym move, squared off in a workout that was equal parts sweat and financial reality check.

    The session kicked off with burpees—because, just like credit card interest, they compound quickly and make life miserable when ignored. Jose half-heartedly flopped through them, much like someone making minimum payments on a maxed-out credit card. Meanwhile, Moby, fueled by decades of discipline (and probably black coffee), executed each one with the precision of a man who never paid a cent in overdraft fees.

    Next up: core squats. “Think of this as your savings account,” Moby wheezed between reps. “The stronger your foundation, the less likely you are to collapse under debt.” Jose nodded, then immediately wobbled under the weight—just like someone living paycheck to paycheck with no emergency fund.

    Sprints followed, symbolizing the financial journey of many athletes who go from millions to bankruptcy faster than Jose’s short-lived attempt at working hard. “Basketball players sign a $50 million contract and end up broke because they don’t understand debt-to-income ratio,” Moby barked as Jose gasped for air. “You know what happens when you take out a loan with no plan to pay it back? Declines. Just like this incline sprint you’re struggling up.”

    Jose groaned but managed to stumble to the top. “But what if you’re not college-bound?” he asked, doubling over.

    Moby chuckled. “Then you learn skills, kid. Not everyone needs a degree, but everyone needs a way to earn money. You think the guy who built this gym needed calculus? No, he needed to know about supply, demand, and not blowing his paycheck on things that lose value faster than your stamina.”

    By the time they wrapped up, Jose was sprawled out like a busted investment portfolio. Moby patted him on the back. “Remember, kid—money and muscles work the same way. Put in the effort, stay consistent, and don’t expect overnight results. Otherwise, you’ll end up weak… and broke.”

    With that, Moby walked off, he had given all of his Financial Literacy wisdom he could share. Jose10k could only try to apply his lessons. But he thought to himself, what about Darkwing, Fletch, B.B.Q., and Einstein? Shouldn’t they know the truth?

  • Captain Clean Up – from Jose10k

    Moby and I rolled up to the A1C like a couple of action heroes—minus the capes, plus a little extra wheezing. The morning was crisp, the motivation was questionable, but the mission was clear: burpees, squats, running, inclines, steps, slow squats (because why suffer quickly when you can suffer in slow motion?), and even some good old-fashioned trash pickup. Because nothing says “elite fitness” like doing lunges while holding a discarded fast-food cup.

    We weren’t just working out; we were upholding the honor of the A1C, ensuring it remained pristine for whatever parade was about to roll through. And in a stunning display of intelligence, we did it before said parade—because apparently, we love making things harder for ourselves. But hey, someone’s gotta do it, and today, that someone was the Dynamic Duo: Batman and Robin, but with more sweat and significantly fewer gadgets.

    At least we weren’t the splash crowd. That’s all I’m gonna say about that.

  • Cold Deck at The A1C – from Einstein

    Cold this morning on the deck of the parking garage at the A1C ~ 28 degrees.

    WARMUP: all IC15x; toe touch, windmills, side staddle hops, arm circles, neck rolls(snap,crackle,pops),
    shoulder rolls, butt kicks, high knees, book covers, single leg hip circles, etc.

    THANG: PAX of 4 – perfect for the deck-of-doom, each pax assigned a suit, performing reps as per the card value

    Jose10K – clubs; plenty of merkins
    Moby – hearts; mix of stretching
    Fletch – diamonds; plenty of freak nasties
    Einstein – spades; simple mix

    2 Jokers run a lap, and one minute of Rocky Balboas

    Plenty of mumble chatter, resulting in overtime to finish the deck.
    Froze fingers could not flip the cards easily, resulting in double overtime.

    Fletch prayed us out.

  • Plenty of Love at the A1C! The 4 Core on the Northshore – from Jose10k

    Ah, Valentine’s Day at the A1C—love was in the air, and so was the smell of cold sweat and regret. The Original Four—Einstein, BBQ, Moby, and YHC—showed up ready to conquer the cold like it owed us money. Unfortunately, Darkwing Duck hit the snooze button on his hibernation alarm, leaving us to brave the elements without his quacking commentary.

    We kicked things off with some “Fly, Eagle, Fly” arm exercises, because nothing says “good morning” like reminding BBQ that his Chiefs got plucked by the Eagles in the Super Bowl. BBQ took it like a champ, focusing on Travis Kelce, Taylor Swift, and his bromance with Patrick “Mahomey” to power through.

    Once properly warmed up and full of Super Bowl smack talk, we moseyed down to the parking garage for a “simple” workout—because nothing involving merkins, squats, sit-ups, and running a quarter mile repeatedly ever stays simple. The goal? Clock some mileage while our lungs begged for mercy. Ten merkins, ten squats, ten big-boy sit-ups, and off we went—rinse, repeat, and pray. By the time we hit 2.25 miles, the parking garage was filled with enough grunting to make the uninitiated concerned.

    Then came circle time, where we caught our breath and dissected the Super Bowl halftime show. Consensus: the pregame music was better than Rihanna’s halftime performance, but at least no one tried to explain the Taylor-Travis relationship as some kind of cosmic marketing ploy.

    To wrap it up, YHC got sappy. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all, and six years ago to the day, I met my beautiful wife and started the greatest romance story since Harry met Sally, Johnny and June—or at least since Travis met Taylor LOL. I guess I need to show some love to our cross town rivalries at the Splash Pad. I think one or two of them post every now and again. Gentlemen, take care of your wives, your M’s, and remember that flowers and chocolate might keep you out of trouble, but burpees won’t save your marriage.

    See you in the gloom!