WAR

The best part was I got paid to do this.

Some sports are highly technical, calling on a series of complex movements and actions to achieve a desired result. Tennis, basketball, baseball are in that category.

Other sports are more basic, relying on brute force to achieve victory. Yes, there are techniques, but when the rubber hits the road, it's distilled down to power. Sport gets no more basic than that.

On Friday, my company held a pentathlon, and I was tapped to participate in the athletic portion. One of the athletic events was a 6-person Tug-o-War.

There is just something primal about grabbing a rope and dedicating all of your might to pulling your opponents in a direction they wish not to go. Perhaps because I can picture all of humankind's ancestry participating in the same game for eons- cavemen probably passed time by playing TOW.

Being the resident musclehead, there was a lot of pressure on me to pull out a W. There are some stereotypes that bodybuilders are all show, and that the muscle they pack on doesnt parlay into real strength. Perpetuating that preconceived notion was no option. I'm also that guy with a bit of a reputation around the gym, so with many fellow gym-goers, as well as gym staff on hand, a lot of eyes were definitely on me.

I went ahead and added fuel to the flames by cutting the sleeves off my shirt. It was like the taking of the glove and slapping the other teams in the face, challenging them to a duel. When I showed up with my hachimaki, dark sunglasses, dark gloves, camo pants and sleeveless team jersey, it was like painting a big target on my chest.

The headband reads "I Will Pass the Test"

To prepare for this contest, I prepared like I was heading to the gym. I took my double shot of espresso about an hour before, grabbed my gym ipod, chock full of death metal and screamcore and headed to the field, and started filling my belly full of rage. I paced on the sideline, like a beast on a leash, waiting to unload on the poor soul that decided to come to work that day.

I had never really played tug of war in my adult life. My teammates and I dug our heels into the grass and prepared to weather the storm. My forearms seared with a slow burning pain and my back, thighs, and glutes were about ready to call it. If a team gained an inch of ground, I let out a scream as we wrestled back control. WAR was definitely a fitting moniker on this day.

For 4 rounds I gave each bout my all, falling to the ground backwards each time the opponents were pulled across the victory line. Pride was on the line.

24 teams became 12. 12 became 6. 6 became 3, and then 2 and then 1. When the dust settled the Toxic Avengers were victorious. And I wanted to puke... for about an hour after the finals... but I didnt.

Gold medal status.