is the second day of training for the Large Enterprise : the participants, increase rather than decrease, and today are 12 children present. Add 2 teachers, 2 mothers, 3 brothers (2 in BC) and a father for the second presence and comes out a cheerful carnival parade.
hard to hold off the well-trained, run away and not hear the calls: every so often reach for them and stop waiting for those behind. They invent exercises, stationary or pace, with courses of approximately 600m between a stop and the next. Someone started calling me Mister ...
Then, when all are beautiful warm play the relay, first in the street on a very short stretch (3-4 rounds each), then in the vineyard and we are already on the 100m. The idea is to lap a head but you can not stop: typhoid is hot, they join the teachers, mothers, Beauty, and we want the whistle to end the fight. Pari and flap all the way to gorge themselves on Gatorade offered by the sponsor only.
Once again we have broken rule number one is suffering athletics, who said that?
In the afternoon, I go out and go on with the metaphor of pruning roses and fruit trees. The buds will bloom anyway, but sometimes the plants have to be helped to take their final form. And maybe we'll have more roses.
PS: and grit that the boy, has not taken his father!
hard to hold off the well-trained, run away and not hear the calls: every so often reach for them and stop waiting for those behind. They invent exercises, stationary or pace, with courses of approximately 600m between a stop and the next. Someone started calling me Mister ...
Then, when all are beautiful warm play the relay, first in the street on a very short stretch (3-4 rounds each), then in the vineyard and we are already on the 100m. The idea is to lap a head but you can not stop: typhoid is hot, they join the teachers, mothers, Beauty, and we want the whistle to end the fight. Pari and flap all the way to gorge themselves on Gatorade offered by the sponsor only.
Once again we have broken rule number one is suffering athletics, who said that?
In the afternoon, I go out and go on with the metaphor of pruning roses and fruit trees. The buds will bloom anyway, but sometimes the plants have to be helped to take their final form. And maybe we'll have more roses.
PS: and grit that the boy, has not taken his father!
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