Usually when I hear the term “Breakfast Club” I think of the old movie about the High Schoolers all in Saturday detention. Just the other day that term was ruined for me, It went from being a happy cheerful movie to hell all in just about 45 minutes.

                It was right after practice, we had are usual team meeting in center field. It started out as a nice talk after a very successful practice, but soon escalated. Coach McGuire was no longer happy. He gave us the usual reprimanding about how we post inappropriate thing on social media and for that we will have our first “breakfast club” the next morning. I have never been a part of a one of these notorious events but I could tell that waking up at six for extensive physical activity was not going to be fun, and also now when am I supposed to do my laundry? At our first team meeting he told all of us to clean up our different social medias because he would be checking them twice a week, to make sure we weren't posting any inappropriate things that would make us as an individual or a team look bad. Any way a few player posted some stuff and long story short, Its breakfast cub time.

                My eyes slowly opened as I picked myself slowly out of bed, I reached to my desk to grab my phone when a shock of fear struck through my body. It was 6:35. We had been instructed to arrive at the Bast Center between 6:30 and 6:45 or else our punishment would continue on for a couple days. One of the advantages of going to a small school is nothing on campus is more than a 10 minute walk. Luckily Marion to Bast is about three. Although I knew I wasn't going to be late, I didn't expect to sleep through my alarm. I scurried out of bed, threw on my cutest workout out fit and was out the door in 3 minutes

                As I walked into the main entrance of Bast, with sleepy eyes and bed head, I realized that the next 30 minutes were not going to be very fun. As I looked around the room I noticed that everyone looked just as tired as I did.  We proceeded into the gym and did the dynamic stretches we do before every practice. After doing our high knee and butt kicker exercises the doors to hell opened, and we entered Donte’s inferno.

                It was a 4 station circuit work out with clapping push ups, suicides, box jumps, and sit ups. We were to do each station 10 times for however long it took the suicide runners to do their suicide. The first 2 rotations were a breeze, but then your muscles slowly started to wear down and turn to Jell-O. The burning sensation in your shoulders became too much to handle, push ups became nearly impossible with your sweaty palms slipping on the floor. Stations got longer because the suicides got slower, and finally, the tenth rotation came, I finished the last set of box jumps and immediately sat on the floor when the whistle signaled the suiciders had finished. Finally, we were done

                I sat on the floor stretching, finally catching my breath, all I could think about was going back to my room, showing, going to my only class of the day and getting back in bed. How awesome did that sound, just taking a nap and sleeping until practice time that night. But then the unthinkable happened. Based off the last suicide our coach said “Some people had too much left in the tank, so back at the grind. The next fifteen minutes we spent running laps around the basketball court. Every time he blew the whistle we were to sprint until the next whistle. If my legs were Jell-O during the first half the workout they were pudding now. Finally he blew the whistle for us to stop. We all met at center court put our hands in and said “Noke” after a count to three.