F3 Knoxville

Saturday Morning BOGO

Clear, cool, and Qless was the forecast Friday afternoon. In a perfect world, that Q would have belonged to Lilydipper, but an uncooperative hip has other ideas. Crawdad won’t stand for an open Saturday Q. He made some decisions. He placed some calls. Continue reading if you’d like the details, but the summary is that it takes two men to do what one Lily does.

We took em to 100. Tie Fighters, The Junk Science, some stretching, and 10 burpees for Snitch, who I’ve never seen come in late, ever, so he must have had some serious business to do this morning. I didn’t ask but I’m betting Cheet Sheet was similarly relieved when he arrived.
The first part of this BOGO was to discover that our Non Privately Owned Naturally Occurring Mineral Formations (NOPO-NOMIFs) were just laying there beneath the trees, as nature presumably left them. Partner AMRAPs as some stragglers caught up, curls, presses, rows, more curls. All I know is that a lot of you have way more reps in you than I do.

Catch Me If You Can w/5 burpees up baby Everest and down the Dragon. Deposit the NOPOs and begin the second part of the BOGO.

We built pyramids on the Cloud, with Crawdad bringing out his famous Louisiana Whistle. Box Jumps, Irkins, Dips, Derkins, Merkins. Unless you cut your reps, your arms were jelly.

Recovering on our feet, we made our way to the dustbowl and some Doras. 200 reps and then another 100 of whatever you wanted.

Back to AO for Mary AND a visit to the ATM.

Welcome Scott W, Billy Goat!

Your F3 friends are a deep and wide pool of help and challenge. You’d be nuts not to lean on them when you need to. It would be a waste to not be challenged by them. You’d be foolish not to step in and try to lead.

Hello Darlin

SSH, Tie Fighters, Butts-Up, Preachers, etc.
Unlike CMUs, rocks found in the woods can’t be thought of as private property, and they don’t seem like huge threats to children’s safety. There happened to be some (rocks not kids), so we took them out for a shuffle.

We did the Hands Fast Ten, then over to the Caribbean.

Laps around the islands, 20-15-10-5 reps each lap, with and without our naturally occurring, non privately owned and totally harmless companions. Q has to admit that he cheated his reps on the hand release merkins. Let this be a lesson to everyone that if you can’t do it, you shouldn’t Q it. Conway got Ribbed pumped up, and I failed Kentucky by not playing “Borderline” by MDNA. She was next on the playlist!

Lesslie Newbigin said that rational doubt always rests on faith and not vice versa.

Son of a Preacher Man

THE SCENE: Y’all knew it was going to be cold and wet, and you dragged yourselves out there anyway. Q’s got to up his game on a day like that.  

I don’t know anything at all about working out except what I learned from the pax, so SSH (thanks every single Q ever), Cherry Pickers (no thanks to whoever mis-named them), Rockettes, The Junk Science (my humble contribution; you’re welcome), and in honor of the high desert’s very own Preacher, we did The Preacher. Bumped from 10 to 15 after a fittingly profane text from Tucson.
A little Route 66 inspired by Lily. The Cloud gave us some Box Baby Boxes, and because there is apparently some unresolved conflict in my life, we visited with my old buddy Jack Webb.

Light rain and a light mosey towards Cardiac but not quite to Cardiac. Picked up some babies by the side of the road and shared them with our buddies. Shout out to Honeydew for carrying the two of us through the Doras.

There comes a time in a man’s life when whatever’s inside has to come out, and Cardiac is built for just such a purpose.

What happens during the Crawdad Comeback is both private and communal; a man experiences his limitations and his freedom; there is running forward and in reverse. It is a time of paradox and, potentially, vomit.

The great Mickey won the final sprint to the AO, and by an embarrassingly wide margin. *Author’s note, he donated the winner’s proceeds to Jumbo, who had wisely saved his energies for his forthcoming 100m breaststroke domination in Kingsport today.

It being the weekend, we cashed out like men, and then we limped away.

“Man has places in his heart which do not yet exist, and into them enters suffering in order that they may have existence.” Leon Bloy, with thanks to John Stone.
AE soccer game at Regal stadium Thursday. There was a Jinx sighting at Thursday’s board meeting! Word on the street is that High Heels prefers his lake house to sweating with us on Saturdays from now until like October.

People’s Choice


SSH, Tie Fighters, claps, squats

As Kasey Kasem used to say “The numbers keep getting smaller, and the hits keep getting bigger.”

So we did Kasey’s Kloud Kountdown: Box/Baby/Box + Table Rows, 20-15-10-5

I wasn’t going to bring Jack Webb into this, but Hands insisted, so we did.

After carefully scrutinizing the results of the F3 People’s Choice Poll, it was obvious that we haven’t visited Cardiac nearly enough, and so our duty to each other was clear.

All the way up Cardiac, dips at the top, merkins at the cone, squats at the bend, and flutters at the bottom. 20-15-10.

The results of Q’s attempt to comply with the Q/phone mandate were mixed: I brought it with me to the cloud, but I left it there. So we moseyed back to get it, then arrived at AO with juuuust enough time to finish off whatever we had left in our shoulders with some ATM.


“Jesus’ entire work proceeds as does the work of a seed: it takes place in a mystery, in secret – in a way that can neither be known nor felt, but only believed, trusted.” Robert Farrar Capon
Praying for Patty and family.
The owner of the maroon F150 who had lunch at Gus’ yesterday refused to identify himself on Slack; Matlock wants a word with you

Omaha to Paris

THE SCENE: Couldn’t be a nicer morning

Lots of on-time pax this morning! Stalled with some Michael Phelps or something while we waited on the stragglers, and did burpees in honor of Swimmies’ on-time (for him) arrival. Then it was time to get going. I read an article on the op-ed page of the New York Times ( https://www.nytimes.com/2014/06/06/opinion/memories-from-normandy.html ) that got me thinking I’d like to meet the author, who lived in Sweetwater.
Down to the CMUs. 5 rounds of Keepaway, or whatever that game is called. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot in between rounds. Team 1 won, although numerous lawsuits have been filed and the outcome will be contested until the recounts are over and the results have been certified.

Clint’s mom thought she outsmarted the US Army by sending Clint to typists school to keep him out of the draft. He was sent instead to the 82nd Airborne, 512th Glider Infantry.

There was work to do at the Cloud. Stepdowns, LBCs, Box cutters.

Jack Webb showed up…easily the least welcome guest at any workout.

Clint trained in Africa and was dropped into Italy. Fought his way past Mt Vesuvius, which he sketched in his secret and illegal diary.

Moseyed to the dock, practiced some Junk Science – like 90% of us are statistically entitled to 10 more years.

Clint Riddle got into a glider again and landed somewhere near Sainte Mere Eglise, and they fought their way into France.

Operation Overlord, our tribute to those guys. Omaha (Beach) to Paris. It’s almost a half a mile, and it’s all uphill. It is not easy.

Back to back Have a Nice Days, mosey home, ATM.

Ain’t nobody got time for that


Clinton Riddle stayed a Private until the war was over and he was finally discharged. He came home to Sweetwater, married, had kids, became a bi-vocational pastor, and started talking about his experience of war in his 90s, when he was one of the few people left to talk about them. He spent 3 hours one morning with me and my sons, telling us about every part of his time in battle. Pvt Riddle died last December. He was 98 years old.
With gratitude to Clinton Riddle and everyone who serves selflessly. With gratitude to the men of F3.
I owe Jumbo breakfast – INCREDIBLE Omaha-to-Paris sprint.