I asked ChatGPT to help with today’s backblast, and it returned a story that was eerily accurate. My edits are in [square brackets] – the rest came straight from the mind of an AI:
In a [church parking lot], seven friends gathered for a morning workout, intending to test their limits in body and mind. [As they stood around in the darkness pre-workout, the Q] talked about a strange game he had brought along. It was a deck of memory cards, each marked with different bootcamp exercises, from push-ups to crunches to planks.
The rules were simple: flip two cards over each turn and perform the exercise on each one, unless a match was made. When a match was found, the pair would be removed from the deck, and the exercises would vanish along with them. The game would end only when all pairs were matched. The cards included a few exercises that would prove not to be crowd pleasers.
They cards were shuffled and spread face down on the [ground], an audible hesitation passing between them as they prepared for the challenge.
The game began with Eric flipping over two cards: Push-ups and [Carolina Dry Docks]. He groaned, as he had hoped to start with something simple, but the group egged him on. “No mercy, Eric!” called Robert. Laughing and cursing, Eric dropped to the ground to lead the push-ups, then sprang into [CDDs, the cadence] breaking the quiet ambience [of the lot].
As the turns passed, each man took his chances, flipping over pairs of cards, hoping for matches and yet secretly enjoying the challenge of each new exercise. Some cards were particularly punishing when paired together. [Bruce] groaned when he uncovered [Lawnmowers] and [Skull Crushers], but with every gasp for breath, his friends cheered him on.
Things got tense when [Aaron] finally found a match with [LBCs], removing them from the game. His relief was short-lived when his next turn revealed [Box Cutters]. He dropped, counting each grueling rep as his friends howled with laughter.
Each match whittled down the exercises, though at the cost of aching muscles and the occasional stumble. By the end of the night, they had matched nearly all the pairs, leaving only the dreaded [Zamperini Time Bomb] and [Mosey around the AO].
Sweat-soaked and sore, the seven men clapped each other on the back. They had completed the game, their muscles weary yet satisfied. [Following announcements and a short prayer, many of the guys proceeded to Starbucks to swap stories with friends from Viking.]