When I go to Madison-Central football games, I sit in the stadium watch the team and cheer when one of the players crosses the goal line. That’s my goal-line, by-the-way. I own that #$%#$. I know the thrill of crossing it.
I’ve left my blood, sweat and fears out on that field. I feel like I have a connection to that patch of artificial grass. I’ve run that track. I’ve sprinted up that stadium. 
Today we ran gassers with the 25-lb. bag. We did lots of burpees, an Indian run, wall sits, and wall stands (imagine standing on your hands for over a minute.) I sprinted up a hill.
Paul Lacoste was out, so we skipped the weight room. My healing aching back was thankful for that one. So we did six stations instead of the normal four + weights.
The toughest drill of the day was pushing the boards. We did five and back, ten and back, fifteen and back, twenty and back and twenty five and back. In between, we threw in burpees. Imagine being bent over and pushing a 1×4 across the wet artificial turf. It’s a stout workout for your core and legs.
On the last 25-yard leg, I crossed the finish line and felt joy. I didn’t score six-points, but I felt relief like I haven’t felt in a while.
This week was a rough week. It was good to finish with a touchdown.