Flash-mob-style fitness group, November Project, using Mpls. as playground

Birds and key fobs chirped as the group members emerged from their cars just before sunrise one recent morning along the Mississippi River in downtown Minneapolis.

Dressed in colorful athletic gear, three dozen people stretched on the landing between Mill City Museum and the Guthrie Theater, waiting for their muscular, goateed leader to speak. A beach ball bounced overhead.

"All right, guys, let's circle up!" bellowed Ben Bauch, 23.

Forming a giant ring around him, they stood at attention.

"All right, good morning!" Bauch yelled.

"Good morning!" they yelled back.

"Do you feel good?" he asked.

There's no fee to join the latest extreme fitness club in town. Instead, to become a member of this underground movement — known as the November Project — you need only follow these simple rules.

One: Just show up. 6:27 a.m. sharp. Outside. No matter if it's raining, snowing or oppressively hot.

Two: Work so hard you might puke.

Finally — and this one's a biggie — hug like you mean it.

"It's part of the culture," said Holly Reiland, another one of the group's "tribe leaders," as she greeted members on this brisk Wednesday with a full-frontal embrace and ear-to-ear smile.

The November Project's high-intensity, early-bird workouts happen every Wednesday — announced on the group's Facebook, Twitter and Instagram accounts. Just for fun, leaders will throw in an occasional "pop-up workout" on other days, tweeting the time and place the night before.

Those who show up are immediately welcomed into the "tribe." It's a term the group uses to convey that its ambitions reach beyond just exercise — they are building relationships.

The Minneapolis chapter is an offshoot of a national movement that has captured the zeitgeist of the modern fitness era: extreme workouts mixed with a sense of belonging, and broadcast on social media. In each city there are designated "tribe leaders" who design the workouts, varying the exercises and scenic locations while turning the city into a playground.

"It flips it from 'working out' to 'playing,' " Bauch said of the 45-minute sessions. "People have described it as recess."

The Minneapolis tribe is one of 19 that have sprouted across the United States and Canada. The movement's mastermind is Brogan Graham, a 32-year-old former college rower who started the project on a whim three years ago in Boston. He and a friend were looking for a way to stay motivated during the long winter months. They made a pact to exercise together in the morning for the whole month of November. But when the month ended, they kept going — and invited others to join.

"We're just trying to make as much noise as possible," Graham said, comparing the November Project to rivals like CrossFit. "We're trying to prove our workout is the hardest one in town and is the most fun and you don't have to pay."

Fierce and fun is the motto.

"When you show up for November Project, we're going to make you do some silly [expletive] — make eye contact with five people you don't know," Graham said. "Give out a full-on bear hug, and when you hug people, say, 'I'm glad you're here.'

"It sounds a little bit like a cult, doesn't it?" he said, laughing.

The night before the Wednesday workout by the river, tribe leaders tweeted this shout-out:

When Reiland, 23, and Bauch first started the Minneapolis tribe on a frigid January day last year, only a few hardy souls turned up. Since then, their Wednesday workouts regularly draw up to 40 people of all ages and fitness levels. Many are runners. Some ski. Others, like Bauch, are rock climbers.

Rachel White, 31, is an ex-Marine.

She says she was looking for something to hold her accountable after she left the military.

"I didn't really know what I was getting into," she said of her first workout last fall. But now she's hooked — showing up to workouts in other cities when she's traveling. "I'm like a friggin' evangelist," she added, laughing. "It's kind of creepy."

That accountability factor came back to haunt her recently.

"Oh, it was so embarrassing," she said before the Wednesday workout. "I set four alarms this morning so I didn't miss it."

As far as workouts go, this recent one was a killer.

The whole tribe had to start at the bottom of the giant hill at Gold Medal Park and sprint to the top, then back down the other side — 30 times. Imagine Olympic champion Usain Bolt running the 200-meter race, 30 times in a row.

"The key word is 'sprinting,' " Bauch commanded. "3-2-1, here we go!" Like a stampede, the crowd charged up the hill, pausing to jump over a trail marker each time on their way up.

An extra challenge: that bouncing beach ball was passed between members and the person holding it had to do burpees at the top of the hill. Suggested donation: five burpees.

The tribe leaders aren't certified personal trainers. No one has been injured during the free workouts, although members are asked to sign an online waiver acknowledging the risks.

"We stress that people don't overdo things," Reiland said. "The workout is as hard as you make it."

Currently, she and Bauch are plotting a new push for recruits in May — staging morning workouts in front of the Hennepin County Government Center and other public places where the suit-and-briefcase crowds congregate. The goal: to inspire more desk jockeys to join the November Project and make fitness a priority.

Jack Mullaney, 22, is one of those cubicle types who has become a true believer in the group's mission.

At first, he wasn't sure what to make of all the hugging. But now he enjoys the camaraderie that comes from exercising with a group vs. running solo. A financial analyst, he planned to drive to his suburban office after the sunrise workout, take a quick shower and spend the rest of the day stuck at his desk.

"You guys wrecked it today!" Bauch said, praising the tribe. Then, they gathered for a group shot. Soon it will be posted online — along with the next alert of where and when to just show up.

Allie Shah • 612-673-4488