Author: Oompa Loompa (Page 6 of 11)

Pulled into the parking lot at Ingles this morning about twenty after five.
Only Mayor and Purple Haze were visible. The rest had already left to get their longer distance runs in.
Chatted for a minute or two.
Time to start, we took off, scattering in different directions.
All ran various distances and at their own pace.
No ruckers, no site Q, no flag. No pledge either. Q fail.

Announcements
Community Run at the Fuse ballpark 0900 Saturday. Two wheelchairs to push as of today. Show up around 0800 if you want to help unload trailer, assemble chairs, put up tents, etcetera, as needed.

Ville to Ville this weekend.

Smokey Mountain Relay end of month.

Prayers
Huck, Striper’s brother, GSM, Swimmer, Broke, Leppard’s wife, others spoken and unspoken.
YHC closed us out.

No good story telling or embellishments on this BB.

It’s Monday. I’m down. Natty game on tv tonight. Luckily I am up north doing a pre-startup electrical/mechanical checkout on a new Reese’s cup line.

Know what gets me down? Tarheel basketball.
Not the team itself. Just their fans. The obnoxious ones. The trash talkers. The ones who when you say Franklin they think of Blvd. Who think they wear a jersey and sit on the team bench. Who think when they die, they will go to blue heaven and hang out with Dean Smith.

(I hear Montross saying that GTHC derogatory phrase right now.)

Now I do feel bad for the good Tarheels. Non obnoxious ones. They do exist. The one’s who dropped big bucks to graduate from there. My F3 bros like JJ & Rudolph. Who love the team but have humility in them.

Know what gets me up? Obnoxious Tarheel basketball fans being shut up!

This has nothing to do with the backblast. Just venting.

It’s Tuesday. The day after the biggest chock job in the Finals. Its fricking pouring buckets at Charlotte Douglas Airport. Water over the curbs in Long Term 2. Feet soaked. Luggage soaked. YHC soaked.

Idiots on I85. Shocking.

Finally get to Midoriyama.
Still pouring rain 🌧 like Tarheel tears last night. See the site Q vehicle parked. Yes! At least someone has a set besides tonight’s Q.
Good conversation while waiting for 1730.
Decided to start a few seconds early. Thought with the rain pissing down if you ain’t here by now, you’re not going to be here.
Start mosey to big soccer field. Not a hundred yards in a truck pulls in to the parking lot flashing lights and blowing the horn. It’s Gumby! Circle back and pick him up. Keep moseying at a chatting pace.
Long way around big soccer fields, back past flag, around the corner to playground by pump track, down hill to pond.
Hang left at volleyball court, back up to front gate. Frogger across road, around and back to flag.
Mutiple rounds of: Wall squats. Dips. Calf raises. Squats. Lunges. Inclines. LBCs. Merkins. Pretzel crunch. Flutters. Moroccan Night Clubs. 22 of each all in cadence.
Pledge.
Prayer requests. Huck. Leppard’s wife. Gumby. Broke. Big Pappy. Swimmer. Others spoken and unspoken.

Nice to have a smaller crowd tonight. You can fellowship while still working out, rather than just struggle to keep up with the batflippers.

On my flight back home, I sat with a fellow veteran my age who was returning from one of his F division mates from the USS Coontz wife’s funeral.
A group of eight met in bootcamp, went both halves of A school, sea school and the same division on ship. 45+ years of history. Wives all were friends too. Seven were still married to first wife.

Lots of sea stories shared between the two of us.

If you have a bond like that with college roomies, frat bros, shipmates, cousins, work, F3 dudes, whatever, give them a call and check up on each other.

YHC prayed us out.
Oh yeah, as usual, the rain stopped as soon as the colors were furled.

Bone broth with a double side of mustard or the tall tales of the 2022 P200 Gashouse Coconut Horses Van 2 TEAM TASSEL:

Need a ride?
The crack of dawn

Four perfect strangers skulked around the backside of Pocket’s garage like a bunch of henchmen from a low-budget straight-to video B movie waiting for our getaway car and driver. Rusted out vehicles were strewn around in various stages of being chop-shopped while rats, snakes and assorted lowlifes struggled for supremacy in the detritus of shattered glass, twisted metal, flat tires, weeds, and broken dreams. Is this our ride we wondered as a too sweet Mercedes Benz SUV made its way down the driveway to the back of the hideout. It parked and the door opened. A sunglass wearing, perfect haired, toothpick chewing, styling and profiling dude hopped out. You the big boss? Nope. You the driver? Nope. Chop shop guy. Need a VIN changed? Body lengthened? Sound system? Custom sauna with bar? Mirrored ceiling? Pink champagne on ice?

This is a bad idea.
Shortly after sunrise

YHC watched the sky lighten and internally fumed as every minute wasted imperiled my well-crafted plan. “Who put this gang together? The Joker? Riddler? Catwoman?” I knew that I should have declined this job. Unfortunately, I got mouths to feed and bills to pay.
Eventually our driver with the getaway vehicle shows up late. At least he picked an ubiquitous black Amazon van to keep us incognito. We tossed our crap in the back, put our asses in the seats and got going down the road.
YHC begins sizing up the gang with all the others doing the exact same thing. “Look at this goofball”. “Yikes.” “What rock did this guy climb out from under?” “That guy is older than Methuselah.”
We realize we got to make the best team possible from this collection from the isle of misfit toys: A number crunching grumpy old geezer; computer geek toting punchcards and a broken Commodore 64; washed up race car driver with a shade tree mechanic side hustle; crooked judge; Duke Nukem who makes Homer frigging Simpson look like Einstein; Vietnam flashback Colonel Mustard; and that chop shop dude. With the exception of the rookie driver all of us had experienced these mishmash ups before.

Need a second opinion on that?
Somewhereville Souf Cackalacky

Only contact information we had to go on from the big boss was: cross the stateline, drive to this address, look for character from a Star Wars movie for a valuable bracelet he would pass to Gavel. Oh, wonderful. A Star Wars character? There’s only like a whole universe to pick from. Droids? Jawas? Ewoks? Snoke? Wookies? Stormtroopers? JarJar Binks? When the rest of the van found that out you would’ve thought they were going to comic-con. Luckily we had a resident expert Star Wars nerd in the bunch. Only thing he was good for this trip. They had fantasies of Princess Leia chained to Jabba the Hut. I knew better. If it sounds too good to be true…

The ghosts of P200s past?
Dang near lunchtime

We arrived at the double secret probation exchange zone for the drop. It was at a church with graveyard. To secure the area YHC sent Gavel up on the road as a lookout.
Is the big Nantan in the sky trying to tell me something? The ghost of Allen Tate looking for his exchange zone? YHC recognized other shady characters Boudin, DDC, Vuvuzela that he had previously done dirty deeds with, to or for. Memories quickly flooded in, some good, some bad, Nomads, CSAUPs, Bourbon Chases, P200s, McA-Ville to C-ville, Hickory, somehow we had survived to meet here. YHC rubbed his hands together and evilly laughed, nobody’ll ever think to look for the bracelet here!

All rise for hizzoner Judge Boner
Early afternoon

The plan was to turn this into a relay. We could then make good use of the van as a decoy. Everyone ran and ran and ran until they had to stop and transferred the bracelet to the next runner. Like a gift that keeps on giving. Just like the Pony Express. Minus the horses. Maybe the local tribes decide to not look for scalps today.
My thoughts were interrupted when Gavel alerts us from his lookout position, he sighted a Sarlacc making its way over to his position. WTH is a Sarlacc?
Gavel accepted the valuable bracelet from the Sarlacc and started hoofing it down the road grasping the valuable bracelet for dear life.

It was hot. It was sunny. It was overcast. It was awful. It was uphill. It was downhill. It was glorious.

First legs Gavel 8.57, Slaw 5.58, Oompa Loompa 9.03, Pockets 3.21, Def Leppard 3.96, and Freight 7.89 miles.

Mistake by the Lake
Act 2
Scene 3
Late afternoon

Prior to getting to the exchange zone, we got word the big boss was there waiting to greet us. We arrived to see The Penguin listening to a tale of how Bedpan beat a dog off with a stick. Is that a double entendre? To each his own I guess.

Later we found out that Roundup, Wichita, Bedpan, and Gear Wrench went “swimming with the gators” in the lake.
Dang, that Penguin dude don’t mess around.
When a park ranger showed up looking for the bodies, it was time for us to mosey on down the road.

Sensing our displeasure from his being quite tardy to Pocket’s Garage, our driver combined the absolute worst mix of bad women drivers, Death Race 2000 and The Fast and Furious to make the time lost. Squinting through the space between the steering wheel and the dash, he stomped the gas, and with brakes untouched we made our way to destination miles away in record time. Passengers, luggage, curbs, rumple strips, and roadkill had a very bad day. Who knew road signs were merely suggestions?

Interlude
The previous segment of our production was brought to you by Lone Star Barbecue.
The grub was well received.
Sounds and rotten smells weren’t.

And now back to you, Sandy Vee.

Seymour Johnson
Sundown
Rural convenience store in the middle of SC.

Pulled up to the diesel pump and overheard the following conversation:
At Pump #1
“That thing is too big for this hole.”
At Pump #2
“Turn around the other way.”

Epilogue

The 24 hours of our adventure turned into an endless sea of gloom, despair, and agony on me. YHC staggered from van to van in search of the yellow elixir to reduce his case of menstrual cramps.

Somehow, someway, through hook or crook we made it to the end to consign the valuable bracelet to its final resting place.

In exchange for risking friendship, sleep, sanity, life, limb, and the pursuit of happiness, all we got was a tee shirt, medal, beers or sweet tea and two tacos. The lucky ones found grilled bratwurst and mustard.

At dinner we got a lengthy sermon on “Repent from your sin of carbohydrate lust” as given by the Most High Acolyte, Keeper of the Flame, Red Meat Eating, Proselytizing Prophet between dip spits of Devil’s leaf.

Second legs Gavel 3.77, Slaw 9.73, Oompa Loompa 5.63, Pockets 3.67, Def Leppard 3.86, and Freight 7.72 miles.
Final totals Gavel 15.23, Slaw 20.94, Oompa Loompa 16.62, Pockets 10.85 (ran extra credit 1.96 with Oompa), Def Leppard 15.44 and Freight 21.29 miles.

As always, YHC had a great time with his F3 brothers. Slaw for keeping this old jarhead on his toes at each exchange zone; Freight for his encouraging word; Def Leppard for being the grownup in the group; Gavel for his youthful zeal; Pockets for directions; and finally to Ozark who had the worse job of all us, driving a bunch of preteen acting adults on the back roads of south Carolina.

What happens in the van, stays in the van. Anybody got any mustard?

Prison Break. Hump Day. YAY! YHC gets to pinch hit for Montross (channeling his inner fartsacker) and who didn’t bring the flag as promised.

Eleven of the finest humans (yes I included Sister Act) YHC ever met ran, rucked, or mall walked with a some running thrown in once the legs got loose. All got better.

It didn’t even rain!

Prayer requests:
Roscoe’s & Swimmer’s family with the losses of loved ones. Turtleman. Tesla. Big Pappy. Gumby. Def Leppard. Wichita. Sparky. Westside. Stiper. Those I didn’t get on paper.

Announcements:
Pita Wheel at noon today at the original brick and mortar location in Lil D
The big F3 NANTAN Slaughter at Downtown the day after tomorrow
P200 next weekend
Convergence April 2
Speed for Need April 9
SMR end of April

YHC took us out. Thanks for allowing me the privilege to lead this morning.

We rolled outa Ingles right on time. Rain. Check. Wind. Check. Friends. Check.

Hacksaw shared stories about cocks. The fighting kind, you dirty minded scum.
Then a story about milk dud sized substance rolling on a Walmart bathroom floor on the road to Rock Hill.
After much laughter we arrived at the Rooster.

It was raining hard enough at the Rooster to make Noah nervous. Windy enough to make tent fly through the air like witchipoo on a broom.

It was cold. It was windy.
It was wet. Enough belly aching.

The FOLSOM HAMMERS ran in the following order:
YHC, Bedpan (ran with Bigfoot as moral support), Sarlacc, Hacksaw, and Gear wrench.
26 miles. One lap, one person at a time. Averaged sub 9’s as a team overall and finished well under 4 hours.

Enjoyed the fellowship with the other F3 Gastonia team and the various other PAX from other AO we all know.
Didn’t cheat. Finished dead last. Really?

More funny Hacksaw tales on the way to grab some chow.
That titled this BB.

The one eyed king drove the blind mice with bad directions from the back seat driver.

Seriously, who believes that we would let that happen?
He did collapse (in true NCSU Wolfpack tradition) at the finish line. Nine eyewitnesses saw him flopped out on the pavement like roadkill. Even a video exists that may or may not see the light of day showing this very fact.
Enough about the greatest F3 Gastonia nantan for the year 2022.

Modified disclaimer.

Eleven runners. Nine left on time. One left early. One left late. Ten returned with Defib believed still out on the course since his vehicle was still present.

Pledge (Way to go Roscoe with flag on the phone)

Announcements
Race season.
Need Q downtown for April 9th.
T-shirts need more buyers for The Yank.
T-shirt design contest.

Prayer requests
Wichita’s family
Round up’s family
Breaker Breaker’s uncle
Tesla
Spoken and unspoken

Words of Wisdom
What is truth?
What is truth?” This was the question that Pontius Pilate asked Jesus in John 18:38. It’s such a pivotal, eternity-altering question that I have this page marked in my Bible so I can find it immediately.

Many believe that truth is relative. Truth for you is not necessarily truth for me. 
Questioning my truth would be considered intolerant and would infringe on my rights, at least according to today’s accepted norms.
However, the Bible has a lot to say about truth which directly contradicts much of what the world believes about the matter.

First, truth is not an idea or an opinion, but a Person.

“Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me’” (John 14:6, ESV). 
Second, the truth won’t always be popular. Remember Jesus was the embodiment of truth and they hated and murdered Him. The truth can be offensive because it tells us what’s wrong with us.
So Jesus said to the Jews who had believed him, ‘If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free’” (John 8:31-32, ESV). Jesus goes on to say that those who are in sin are slaves to sin, but those who find hope in Him are released from that bondage. “So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36, ESV).

What is Truth? Truth is Jesus Christ, His death and resurrection. Truth is the Word of God, the Bible. Truth may not be popular, especially in our world today, but Truth will set you free … and not just for today, but for eternity!
YHC took us out in prayer.

Nice evening at Midoriyama.
Slaw, Broke, and Defib out for EC.
Little chit chat upfront.
Lots of mumble chatter about “I can’t believe that I have all the long legs on the P200. I can’t believe that Oompa has a 2 mile leg at the end. I can’t believe that I have to run 20 miles. Wichita has to run forever on his first leg.”

Time to go. All veterans. Brief disclaimer.
Suggestions only. Don’t get hurt. Two of the crybabies thankfully removed themselves from our presence to go run.
Circle up from warm up.
SSH in cadence.
Mosey to parking lot by turd shack.
Align on the line. One burpee at each line. 2 dozen lines.
Lovely. Thanks Slaw.
Back to start. Ascending LBC add one at each line. Omaha after 20 lines. Thanks Slaw.

Mosey to short soccer field.
On the way we lost another P200 runner. What the heck?
Ultimate Frisbee. Luckily 8 were left. Pair off.
One team caught everything.
One team didn’t.
Slaw missed the three wire and crashed into the barrier.
The odds were heavily weighed in one team’s favor like
Defib’s weight vest.
No severe injuries.
One team won, but, all returned to the flag as friends.
Def Leppard got called a war momma since Oompa is the War daddy. Then he cried about not getting to play frisbee.
It’s called listening to the Q and not listening to the bad influence type person.
Announcements
Visitation for Wichita’s mom tomorrow at 11 Love Memorial.
Upcoming races. Need driver for P200. Need driver for SMR.
Might need another runner too.
Some H.I.M. needs to step up and Q (pick up trailers, set up) the SFN at downtown April 9.
Sargento issued a challenge for Lent.
Prayer requests
Wichita’s family
Roundup family
Def Leppard’s wrist and M
Sister Act father in law
Lil Sweet friend Danny
YHC friend from the Marines who passed.
YHC friend from the Marines recovering from prostate cancer.
Others mentioned or not remembered.
Q Fail. No pledge.
YHC took us out in prayer.
Thanks for allowing me to Q.

No. Not the movie. About what was expected the morning after the super bowl.

No Huck. No Allen Tate. No Montross. Some things never change.

Had a FNG. Some ran. Some rucked.

Shared Hebrews 3:13, James 1:22-25, and Hebrews 4:12.

Announcements. As previous backblasts.
Prayers. As previous backblasts.

Shout out to Gear wrench for EHing the FNG. And entering his information in the system.

Seems like most everyone was out getting a bit extra credit on this gloomy, dreary, wet Thursday morning.
Pledge.
Everyone was jumping with joy about getting on Pamela’s case.
Except for the major Q fail that I meant Perry instead.
All were crestfallen about getting stuck with a platypus, until YHC mentioned Katy Perry. Smiles from ear to ear ensued. She comes with free steak too.
All returned safe within the 45 minute time frame and the rain held off.
COT, namorama, announcements and prayer.
See previous backblasts and prayer chain for details.
You missed a good run.

On the way out of my hood, YHC had an opportunity to shout out to Gastonia’s least ugly cardiologist and Dirt running EC. There are running AO around, just saying.

Later that morning, in the former metropolis Gaston County seat of lil D. Pax were scattered all over town and around UNC-D. Only two at the start were Broke and Mayor.
After brief exchanges of insults we all ran or rucked.

Back at the flag. More exchanges of insults and putdowns.

Announcements
Linus’ dad service today.
10 mile ruck to stuff flyers on Saturday. See Sargento.
Rooster
Retreat Feb 18th to 20th
Q School at a to be determined date

Prayer requests
Wichita’s mom
Gumby’s back
Huck’s dad
James Goudelock
Big Pappy family
Def Leppard wrist
Roundup family
Spoken and unspoken

COT and pledge