April 27, 2018



On Friday morn, the Barracks calls
It beckons to us “come”
We gather unaware of fate
One thing we know–we run


Toms on Q–an omaha
Due to a tardy plane
Sir Mix a Lot, in case of worst
Left Toms the text of pain


It was cool 50 degrees
When we circled round the flag
Though ground still wet with Thursday rain
A dry, foreboding track


All 6 punctual PAX were told
Disclaimer, disclaimed.  Check
The 11 men of “casual” stroll:
“We don’t have time for that.”


We started with side straddle hops
As if that’s a surprise
20 IC of that, and same for
Vader’s Minions’ Stride

(Imperial Walkers, for those of you
less than culturally inclined)
Hillbillies, and Daisypickers
a 20 count, in time

“Arm Circles. In cadence” was called
Front, then back. 10 each.
Then mosey to the pull up bars
To hear Toms give his speech


The expectant PAX gathered round
as Toms pulled out his phone
The word of the day is “Fartlek”
(origin unknown)

QIC will set a timer
30 minutes flat
Start from where we’re standing now
And then you run two laps

Push yourself just shy of max
About three-quarter speed
Once complete (and you’re out of breath)
One lap recovery

After that, perform 10 pull ups
15 dips thereafter
(Apparently I can’t do dips..
or much else for that matter)

Last but certainly not least
Burpees! Count: two dimes
That, my friends, is one full circut
Rinse and repeat til time

At 6:08, Toms’s watch went off
PAX stopped as they passed by
“Okay, men, let’s gather round.
We’re all about to die”

400 meters.  All you’ve got.
Ready, set, and go
(It was when this lap was finished
that Bookworm splashed merlot)

And now we’ve come to YHC’s
Most favorite part of all
To finish off this phone-in beast
Half a lap bear crawl.

Not a single PAX completed
(the burpees are to blame)
At 6:15, we circled up
Not a single PAX the same


There was no time to say hello
to Mary, bless her heart
We start on time.  We end on time.
And so we must depart


17 PAX stood around and
rattled off their names
Gus and Teacher’s Pet went first
Bookworm, Extended Stay

Snookie, Father Abraham
Crayfish, Beauty Shop
Mighty Joe Young, Shoestring, Blart
Our new guy, Lara Croft

Pirtle, Toms (who might I say
is really quite the guy)
Soybean, Handsy, Trophy Wife
(Our sole Irish Goodbye)


Men, there is no number to the
things that weigh us down
Wayward loved ones, long hard jobs can
make for one sad clown

Our fight is neither flesh and blood
nor death that lingers near
Nonetheless, if truth be told
I fight the most with fear

Fear of walking all my days with
no one by my side
What if I live in poverty?
What if my children die?

In truth, some days I’d rather quit
than face fear toe to toe
Or even worse, surrender fear
to One i can’t control

We live not in isolation
The gloom is proof of it
We lock our shields to share our strength
For our brothers, WE. DON’T. QUIT.

In whatever phase life finds us
Whatever path unknown
Our brothers help us carry on
For His Glory.
His alone.


Tomorrow is, at last, BrewRuck
It’s for a worthy cause
Come donate cans and ruck around
(There’s also alcohol)
Also, next Saturday (5/5)
We are serving SOS
After Mothership, come help us
Prepare them for their guests

This backblast is a tribute to
one of our very own
One weasel shaker to rule them all
Dear Soybean, gauntlet thrown