Last week, 4 pax decided to embark on a 24-hour feastival of fasting together. Fasting is like the soufflé of discipline, rising to the occasion, and research suggests it’s a flavorful recipe for cancer prevention.
At the savory 12-hour mark of our 24 hour fast, we gathered at Fallout for a gentleman’s workout and a side of commiseration. Elmers joined us too, not fasting, but freezing and hustling like a champ on the culinary runway.
We kicked things off with a disclaimer, the standard fare, plus a warning that the workout would be a 4/10 in difficulty, a rating as questionable as a mystery meat buffet. After a 1-star warmup that left us simmering, we moseyed to some random spot in a parking lot. Like a spice blend, we sprinkled in some merkins, dashed over to the playground for pull-ups, then repeated in a ladder exercise that left us feeling like a bunch of scrambled eggs.
After that, YHC (Your Head Chef) whipped out an 80 lb sandbag for some heavier lifting. We rotated stations like a gourmet carousel between sandbag deadlifts and block exercises (skull crushers, curls, OH press, and farmer’s carry), turning the morning into a fitness buffet.
Some low-key Mary garnished the workout, leaving us with a taste of satisfaction.
The only announcement was the Cookie Q, which was the cherry on top of the workout sundae, precisely what I needed to hear with 11.25 hours left until I could break my fast. Elmers tantalized our taste buds with talk of his upcoming breakfast (see title), a culinary crescendo worth salivating over. Thanks to Chilly for taking us out at COT.
We’re breaking the fast at 5:30 pm at Lowes Huntersville – come and feast with us!
Yours gastronomically, ~ Cobra
PS thank you to ChatGPT for a backblast absurdly dense in food puns.