There must be something in testosterone that goads men into establishing silly clubs based on pointless physical achievements. A guy I knew in high school spent some time at the south pole, and at a subsequent reunion reported he was a proud member of the 300 Club. The sole requirement and initiation ritual is a nude dash from the sauna in the geodesic dome outside to the marker for the magnetic pole and back inside. Membership trials are open anytime the difference between those two environments is 300 degrees Farenheit — usually -100 outside, 200 above inside.
At the time he told me this, the internet as we know it didn’t exist. Is there possibly a website for these shenanigans?
One of those links is for a women’s initiation. I take back what I said about men.
Last night’s British-press perambulations was the first time I ever heard of the Kingsley Challenge, however.
Described by its originator as a “near-impossible feat,” it requires those who accept to row a mile, run a mile and ride a mile (horseback) — in under 15 minutes. Held in London’s Hyde Park on the summer solstice, it’s not open for public participation, probably to keep it from being overrun with Type A Yanks looking for some cool physical-culture tourism opportunities. It sounds like fun, though.
So does the 300 Club, for that matter. The first of those links up there contains male nudity, although the naughty bits are so shrouded in steam and frost it’s practically work-safe.
Holiday weekend ahead — the Detroit techno music festival and probably some boating is on our agenda. Maybe both at the same time. Have a good one, y’selves.