The Thang:

With the threat of twisters on the horizon (not really, it was a gloriously cool and clear morning) and T-Square’s promise of a Kansas Style Q, we trotted off to the “northwest quarter” – that is, the retention pond, for some down home stone work.  In the wide open spaces of the homeland, “sections” or portions thereof are a convenient description of a location – that’s a quarter of a square mile: 0.25 x 640 acres = 160 acres.


Side Shuffle Hop x20,

Sir Fazio Arm Circles x10 each way, much like a spinning reel gathering crops into the thresher, it was a great way to welcome the morning air and the labor that lay before us

Windmill 1 x20

Barn Burners – that is, overhead press – 2 x20

Sowing Seed – that is, bent over rows – 2 x20

Hayhook curls – that is, well, curls – 2 x20

Note, a total of 160 reps


Jog down to the “southwest quarter” for some burn-out merkins – push as many as possible on the toes then drop to knees and push as many as possible. Cool down with another 20 Sir Fazio Arm Circles, then “top out the barn” with another 20 merkins.


Jog to the “silo” – no Kansas farm is complete without a silo – that is, the parking deck stair tower for a reduced 3-rep Jacob’s Ladder  with burpees at the top. Jog back to the ground floor by way of the “Back 40” ramps. Stop off at the rail for a “dip, don’t swallow the juice” x20. I’m not sure if the Pax is so adamantly opposed to the use of tobacco, or if the joke was simply not funny; but the Q had to coax a sympathy chuckle from the otherwise merry ranch hands. Cool down with 10 reps of incline merkins.


Jog up to the “hay meadow” – that is, the lawn of the engineering buildings for some Mary … with a lamb.

Two Wraps & a Hooey – that is, Dying Cockroach – for an unknown number of “hooey” reps

Peanut Butters – that is, the LBC – on the farm, balers take a good bit of abuse. As such, they are often under repair in the field. With pliers in hand and profanity on the lip, you find yourself flat on your back under said baler replacing, banging, tugging and cursing the thing that ails these complicated pieces of machinery. Frustration getting the better part of my old Swedish mentor, he uttered with a distinctive accent, “Mother F@#>/%!!” I suppose my response was as a cold as the Pax’s was to my tobacco humor earlier because my mentor quickly excused himself and modified his selection of explicative to, “Peanut Butter!!”

Mutton Busters – that is, a sort of situp to a Turkish stand with the aid of a Pax on the toes – if you fall off, you have to get back up 1 x10


Jog back to the barnyard for a COT.