Roll Call: May 4 – May 10, 2026

Hark, ye spartans of the digital ledger, gather close —
seven warriors swore their labors, and the iron tells their boast.
The week was long, the lifts were heavy, the wheels did never tire,
and one among us pedaled past two hundred miles of fire.

SEVENTH AMONG HEROES: RKTBAY

The forge of Rktbay smoldered low this week, but did not die.
A BJJ tweak had stung his quads — the stairs themselves were sly.
He skipped his legday wisely, knowing pain is not a friend,
for cortisol on broken sleep is debt without an end.

Yet still on Monday morn he came, with pulldowns clean and true,
two sets of fifteen, hammer rows, and bicep curls he drew.
By Sunday's close the chest had pressed, the shoulder seat was right —
"more tension, less of weight" — a wiser warrior's flight.

He ate without his usual tally, freedom from the deficit,
a month of trying neighbor foods, the joy of where he sit.
Five thousand steps each day, no more — but every rep was clean,
and in the dadcrat's silence, lo, his honesty was seen.

SIXTH AMONG HEROES: ALICE OF THE ROSENGARDEN

Now Alice keeps her tally short — the way of patient gardens —
four sessions in the bodyweight tongue, no need for any pardons.
Nineteen thousand strides across the seven days she paced,
and twenty-five-rep ladders of the kind that none have faced.

Push-ups, squats, ten pull-ups bold, the lunges and the curls,
hip thrusts to the bridge, deadlifts where the iron unfurls.
Then crunch and leg-lift, hollow hold, the forty-five-second plank,
side planks twin, the superman, the good-mornings unflanked.

No filler verse, no padded log, no chart of needless detail —
the warrior writes the things she did and lets the doing prevail.
The Rosengarden honors brevity; her week is her receipt,
and twenty-five reps repeated twice has rendered her complete.

FIFTH AMONG HEROES: BATTMAN

Battman through the head cold marched, with Spencer as his herald,
four sessions logged with cardio that ne'er the chest imperiled.
Air bike twelve, the stairmaster, the heart at ninety calm —
a measured fire, not blazing wide, but tended like a balm.

Then core to shatter mortals: weighted cable crunches loaded,
one hundred eighty pounds three sets, the hanging knees unfolded.
Russian twists with twenty-pound, plank push-ups three by eight,
L-sit rings pull-ups for the few, and dips that thirty weight.

He worked it smart, he wrote it down, the metrics neat and tame.
Pike push-ups, Zottman curls, and pulldown rope to flame.
A head cold cannot stop the man who treats his core as fortress —
five-rank he holds with weighted rings; the ledger bears no chorus.

FOURTH AMONG HEROES: CURVECAP

CurveCap, herald of his own ledger, brought the broadest log,
a hundred forty thousand steps, eight runs across the fog.
Two cycles indoor, swim and row, four jogs at ten-flat pace,
a Saturday eleven-K with thirty-pound embrace.

Tuesday bench at two-sixty pressed to the screaming end,
Friday's full-body iron before the cardio could ascend.
Mon and Wed the Y-class circuit, lighter weights but consistent,
and seven days of sauna heat to keep recovery insistent.

A resting pulse of forty-seven, VO2 max at fifty-one,
a fitness age of thirty-five beneath the merciless sun.
But honest in his honesty — half the steps were errands too —
and breadth, the model judged, was not the same as depth come due.

THIRD AMONG HEROES: REKTDIOMEDES

The Diomedes of the cage now rises, bronze and bold,
forty sets of lifting iron, the heavy bag he scrolled.
Four runs of two miles each he ran, the calories were tracked,
fourteen thousand steps per day, no detail left unstacked.

But hark — the combat density! Two BJJ classes with rolling,
one ecological session where the movement keeps unfolding.
Two MMA with sparring sharp, and Muay Thai bouts entire,
plus twenty extra minutes of the Muay Thai sparring fire.

Two hundred kicks each leg he threw upon the heavy bag,
and four times taped his striking form to watch and never lag.
The bronze is earned in fighting weeks, in sweat that is not posed —
three crowns him, where the bag's report and rolling's voice are closed.

SECOND AMONG HEROES: SPENCER420

Now Spencer of the silver crown, who trained on foreign soil,
in Toulouse, Bordeaux, Saint-Emilion — the iron does not spoil.
Two-twenty-five paused bench he pressed for three sets full of three,
two-twenty-five unpaused for six and six and six with glee.

The Wednesday clean! No belt, no shoes, the warrior bare and brave —
power clean plus hang at one-eighty, then the singles he engraved:
two-twenty-five, then two-thirty-six, then two-forty-seven flew —
reverse lunge two-twenty-five each leg, the legs that none subdue.

Saint-Emilion winery biking, two whole hours and the climb,
park-back day with archer pull-ups, one-arm chin-ups in their prime.
Tuck planche push-ups, dips at twenty-two, the L-sit shoulder stand —
the silver is the gymnast's due, the strongman's heavy hand.

FIRST AMONG HEROES: CORN

But Corn! The wheel-king of the week, the cyclist of the season —
two hundred nine point seven miles, the body knew no reason.
Ten hours and four minutes spent upon the spinning road,
nine thousand, three hundred ninety-three feet of vertical bestowed.

Twenty-four-week streak unbroken, three thousand, three sixty-seven
activities across his life, a Strava reaching heaven.
The chart, twelve weeks of climbing curves, peaked highest at this week —
the previous high in early March, then April's valley meek.

His first group ride of the season called him, club at heel,
and ten full hours of effort came before the rest revealed.
The shame-verse called him forth, the herald watched, and Corn replied —
the chart was his attestation, and the wheel-king takes the gold.

CHORUS OF THE SEVEN

The week is bound, the names are sung, the ledger holds the score:
from Rktbay's honest five-K days to Corn's two hundred more.
The Battman fought a head cold sick; Alice kept the rep,
RektDiomedes rolled with sparring's pulse on every step.
Spencer pressed and cleaned and climbed in French and foreign air,
and CurveCap broad, with sauna heat, did training everywhere.

But Corn alone has ridden where the model could not waver —
two hundred nine miles of singular work; no week could be braver.
The ode is closed, the rankings firm — let next week's labors start.
For health is constant practice, and the iron is the heart.