They were warned, but they still came.
We finally had enough people for a decent game of Ultimate Frisbee so we went ahead and did a bootcamp.
We ran.
We made friends with rocks.
We lifted.
We pushed.
We pulled.
We did unnatural things like lying down and then standing up with no hands.
We did more reps than anyone wanted to do, and more than some were able to do.
We did a four-corner workout, only with two corners and a diagonal.
We did not one burpee.
Nor two.
Nor any burpees at all.
But we got our cardio and our muscle stimulation nevertheless.
We arrived as girly men and left as HE-MEN.
No, not He-Man™ (who is actually a girly man—not that there's anything wrong with that) but HE-MEN
(Yes, that's an F3 superscript. It exists.)
We wanted to lay down in a cot, but instead we circled up in a COT and ruminated on prioritizing kindness and empathy in our interactions with those who hold different or even contrary beliefs. Being kind, after all, is more important than being right.
Moses, Canuck, and YHC coffeeteriaed (it's a verb) at Starbucks, we talked a Bit about coin, real estate (resisting the lure of "fake estate"), and other matters of pressing urgency for the first-world overlords that we are.
Then we went home as if none of it had really happened.
Had it all been just a dream?
If so, my dream made my shoulders and legs hurt the next day.