Training is as training does.

Back last December when Soulcraft hole-shotter Hurl came out for our annual training camp, we wisely replaced our secret stash with brand new supplies. Well, on Friday afternoon as I was slaying a fierce set of hill repeats I thought to myself "I'm a might bit parched. I probably should have stopped by the lick to pick up some training libations." Just then the light bulb above my head popped to life.
"Ahh.. The log..."
Like the Hydra protecting the treasure, I was pleased to find my own personal force of Army Ants taking care not to let any interlopers wrongfully procure the booty;

I began singing the secret song and doing the secret dance, parting the beasts like a tiny, pissed off Red Sea and uncovered the stash, just as I'd left it;

Well, just as I'd left it aside from being covered by what I could only assume to be ant crap. I then adjourned to a sunny spot where I jumped around by myself;

It's activities such as this that ensure my vice-like grip on solid mid pack finishes all season long.