Nobody panic. It’s just an abandoned oversized tractor tire. A perfectly contoured, premium-tread tire, yearning to be hoisted and dominated physically. In all likelihood someone flipped it over to this lonely meadow before realizing he’d forgotten his sledgehammer, slosh pipe and kettle bells.
Course, there’s also a chance deranged teenagers dragged the tire out here for no reason other than to watch it rot.
Christ my mind is racing like crazy.
I mean, as full-time CrossFit trainers, we have an obligation to see to it that equipment is not left littered across the natural landscape. That responsibility accompanies us wherever we go, no matter what weekend winery tour we may be on at the time.
And clearly this oversized tractor tire belongs in a converted warehouse, displayed in front of floor-to-ceiling mirrors as dozens of hard bodies have at it. Not cast off away from the cypress-lined vineyards and forgotten by civilization.
Okay, for the time being, we should consider setting up camp — at least until we know what’s what. We can keep this oversized tractor tire in motion for several hours by rotating designated flippers between the five of us.
Never mind the scheduled tastings and carriage ride!
We are going to fix this. Just like we fixed the industrial steel chain outside the San Luis Obispo Railroad Museum that was not being pulled during 30-second sprints. Or that idle boulder just loitering there during our vacation to the Grecian Ruins. Took us hours to find the right pillar to hoist it onto, and we missed most of the Apokreas festivities that night, but we friggin’ did it.
Dammit, we’re wasting daylight!
I nominate Todd and Becca to start us off — the couple being the only members of the winery tour group who stayed behind to examine the tire with us. It’s unfortunate you two mistook us for extraordinarily toned guides lecturing on the history of the Northeastern Tractor Tire, but the error has been made and there’s no point getting lazy and unmotivated because of it.
As for the rest of us, thankfully I packed several heavy ropes in my knapsack in case of emergencies like this. We can still salvage a decent circuit out of this mess if we traverse from the tire flipping station to the rope whipping station without complications.
All right Todd and Becca, get yourselves in there and dig.
That’s it. Diiig! Visualize success!
This isn’t an oversized tractor tire, no, it’s the player piano your mother wants so desperately to move from the basement to her study but can’t because she’s too weak. Meanwhile, her husband’s bedridden from his dialysis treatments and her only son’s moved to the city for steady CrossFit trainer work.
This oversized tractor tire is your first marriage — your first wife, Debra, frustrated because you’re too committed to your CrossFit training. That’s it! Stop your children from climbing into a strange man’s SUV, weeping as they beg you for an explanation on why you couldn’t flip this failed marriage like you flipped so many oversized tractor tires before it.
Apply that valuable energy into overturning this sentimentally void husk of rubber.
That’s it! Great job!
At this rate we should be done by sundown. Hopefully the owner of this oversized tractor tire will return by then, offering us an opportunity to exchange niceties and core complex techniques.
From there, we should have more than enough time for a two-mile cool-down jog around this meadow before the two-mile walk back to the hotel.