1st Beatdown of Spring on the Playground of Pain

DATE: 2022-03-22
AO: Freestate
Q: Horshack
PAX: Deagle, Winston, CashOnly, Rough Rider, Butter
FNGs: Cannoli, Lefty, DungeonMaster East, BillyGoat (DR Pax from St. Charles, MO) COUNT: 10
WARMUP:
* SSH x 25 IC
* Imperial Walkers x 15 IC
* PlankJacks x 15 IC
* El Capitan x 15 OYO
* 2 laps around blacktop (High Knees and Karaoke on the sides) * Cherry Pickers x 15 IC
* Michael Phelps x 15 IC
* Carolina Dry Docks x 10 IC
* Windmills x 15 IC

THE THANG:
Grab a Coupon and Rifle Carry to Playground of Pain
Playground of Pain x 2 Rounds: 45 sec on / 15 sec off
* Step Ups
* Plank
* Bonnie Blairs (round 1) / Squats (round 2)
* Dips
* Australian Pull Ups
After Round 1: Rifle Carry to Tennis Courts – for 2 four-stop Couponicides
After Round 2: Jacobs Ladder (Murder Bunnie Up 4 – 3 – 2 – 1 Blockies at the top of the hill)

MARY:
Box Cutters x 10 each direction IC
Dying Coackroaches x 15 IC
Flutters x 10 (short and fast), plus 10 (long and slow) IC

ANNOUNCEMENTS:
2F: NCAA Bracket Pool (March 17-April 4)
3F: EarthDay Road Cleaning (Sat, April 23)
1F&2F: Backpacking trip (April 29-May1)
1F: Capital Tour CSAUP (May 15-21)
1F: Murph WOD Memorial Day (Mon May 30)
2F: Family Picnic (Mon, May 30)
2F: Dad’s Camp (June 4-5)
March 2023 GrowRuck DC

COT:
A Poem For the Start of Spring:

This Compost by Walt Whitman

Behold this compost! behold it well!
Perhaps every mite has once form’d part of a sick person—yet behold! The grass of spring covers the prairies,
The bean bursts noiselessly through the mould in the garden, The delicate spear of the onion pierces upward,
The apple-buds cluster together on the apple-branches,
The resurrection of the wheat appears with pale visage out of its graves, The tinge awakes over the willow-tree and the mulberry-tree,
The he-birds carol mornings and evenings while the she-birds sit on their nests, The young of poultry break through the hatch’d eggs,
The new-born of animals appear, the calf is dropt from the cow, the colt from the mare, Out of its little hill faithfully rise the potato’s dark green leaves,
Out of its hill rises the yellow maize-stalk, the lilacs bloom in the dooryards,
The summer growth is innocent and disdainful above all those strata of sour dead.

What chemistry!
That the winds are really not infectious,
That this is no cheat, this transparent green-wash of the sea which is so amorous after me,
That it will not endanger me with the fevers that have deposited themselves in it, That all is clean forever and forever,
That the cool drink from the well tastes so good,
That blackberries are so flavorous and juicy,
That the fruits of the apple-orchard and the orange-orchard, that melons, grapes, peaches, plums, will none of them poison me, That when I recline on the grass I do not catch any disease,
Though probably every spear of grass rises out of what was once a catching disease. Now I am terrified at the Earth, it is that calm and patient, It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions,
It turns harmless and stainless on its axis, with such endless successions of diseas’d corpses, It distills such exquisite winds out of such infused fetor, It renews with such unwitting looks its prodigal, annual, sumptuous crops,
It gives such divine materials to men, and accepts such leavings from them at last.

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