Tracksuits Change Everything- A collaborative reflection of 24 hours in Duluth

The words contained below will be a bit different this time. I've brought on my younger brother Wil to help with this collaborative reflection. This post will let you see a day from each of our perspectives. But not just any day. This day was special. This was the stag party for Sean Giambruno.  

The bachelor and his soon to be wife.

My co-author. Wil Spaniol.

Outlined below are the thoughts of one day, from two people.
 

Enter Wil
“Tuesday has no feel. Monday has a feel, Friday has a feel, Sunday has a feel...” Duluth has a feel. I don’t know what words to use to describe that feel, but its there. Maybe some day I’ll write a book or thesaurus on that feel. Whatever that feel may be, the group is feeling something much different this Saturday morning. The flame of a headache, or a stomach as uneasy as the Edmund Fitzgerald on the big lake they call Gitchi Gummi. Friday night of this stag party was supposed to be the low-key, slow pace night. But this group of comrades knows one pace – chaotic. 

That same pace is brought to Spirit Mountain, the largest mountain range in the Midwest. Eyes clear, hearts full, goggles gaped, the gang flies down the snowy knoll as fast as the beers will fly down our gullets in a few short hours. You can ask the innocent ski rack that was mowed down by Sir Ryan Lauer in his blaze orange hunting jacket.

After skiing has revitalized us to our core, the calm before the storm sets in. Myself and Marcus P Boylè pay a visit to our old school, UMD, where we both undoubtedly would have been Valedictorians had our professors not hated us (that’s just politics baby). $7 Oat Milk Lattes in hand, our minds are racing through memories faster than we flipped through the books we were supposed to be reading here. We talk about nostalgia, and with each hallway we walk down a wave of it hits us. Nostalgia is another thing that has a certain feel, but I can’t quite put it in to words. I don’t usually think much one way or the other of Duluth, but after the trip down memory boulevard and knowing what’s to come, it feels like home.

Its 4pm CST on Saturday, a confusing time of the week for me. I’m a little (very) tired. Do I take a nap? Drink another coffee and risk PAC (Panic Attack City)? Drink a beer? Ponder the meaning of life on earth? I opt for options 1 and 4. Much of the group is still Tokyo Drifitng down the slopes, so I find an empty bed to sprawl in for a few minutes. But I quickly realize there will be no sleeping, just anticipation of what’s to come. 

The rest of the group barges in, and the silence is over. The night has begun.

The group shows a sliver of fatigue from the weekends events so far. There are blank stares and a few eyes slowly closing shut. But this bunch won’t give up that easy. A dance floor awaits in a few hours, and it’s in for a carnival of pain. The first round of beers don’t go down easy, but the twinkles in the eyes are slowly returning. The energy elevates. We circle together to play Thunderstruck, a song this group has been punishing 12oz beers to for years. I see the bachelor, the man also known as Sean, and am thankful he has brought this group together. Most guys in this group have known Shung for at least a decade, some double that. I’m sitting on year 26 of being his cousin and compadre. Once you’re friends with Shung, you’re in it for life. This weekend, like so many others with this group of friends, will be thought about for years to come with the nostalgia mentioned earlier. 

Adidas™️ tracksuits are put on, No Reptiles by Everything Everything is blaring.  The boys, are back, in town. There is a quick pit stop at Adventure Zone for a round of laser tag. We all realize that maybe the real adventure zone isn’t a place on earth, but a place in our hearts. Everyone realized that individually. They all told me separately without talking to each other, word for word.

Finally, we have made it to our destination. The place we knew was coming all weekend: Grandmothers Sports Garden. The beer flows at break neck speed, but the only thing we are getting drunk off tonight is friendship and camaraderie. And 4.2% Michelob Golden Light. As I shred the dancing floor surrounded by this group of lads, I am thankful. Thankful for this journey, thankful for these friends. And thankful for Shung, who gave us this one night to feel like we might be on the right path, the path that takes us home. I’ll sign off with a quote from the great Anthony Bourdain, “We did well tonight. We will go home proud.There are nods and half-smiles. A sigh. Maybe even a groan of relief. Once again. We survived. We did well. We’re still here.”

-Bil

Enter Tom
With my traveling compadres Mark and Minks piled in the car, we hit the road for what we knew would be an eventful 24 hour Duluth sprint. Just dudes being lads. The spirit shred, smoked salmon sandwiches, and The Notebook playing on our TV in the hotel room had our Saturday off to a hot start.
When we arrived at the Airbnb to rub shoulders with the bachelor it was already a beautiful day, but all of a sudden everything heightened. The moment I put it on I knew; Tracksuits change everything.
 

Me putting on the tracksuit

I couldn't just feel the universe's vibrations, I could see them. I gained the knowledge that we can change the vibration, and thus produce any condition which we desire to manifest in our bodies.  As I walked downstairs to be with the gang and Deadmau5's Monophobia was blaring over the speakers, with my hands to the heavens I came into the realization that I am whole, perfect, strong, powerful, loving, harmonious, and happy.  With these majestic tracksuits we can do anything. Of course we can.  



As we made our way to Canal Park there was one common goal in mind. To shred the Grandma's dance floor like the block of cheese Adam consumed the night before. The kids circled up, and the boys went to work. 

Grizzly Jer Fro rocked the dancing gogs all night.

There isn't much else to say. We danced, laughed, high five'd, chugged, and cried the only way we knew how. Tonight our Adidas tracksuits manifested a new acronym: All Day I Dance Along Sean. The bachelor. The stag. The July 3rd MVP. Our hero for creating the night we won't forget, and our savior for bringing us all together.


R. Buckminster Fuller said, "Since the initial publication of the chart of the electromagnetic spectrum, humans have learned that they can touch, smell, see, and hear less than one millionth of reality." Not when you put on a tracksuit. No sir. Tracksuits change everything.




Be Awesome



-Tom Spaniol


"Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out."
-John Wooden