Anon packs his bag for the last time. He's read every survival book and spent tons on gear and watched every YT review. He's been an armchair survivalist for too long and it's time for him to show his mettle and prove to the world and his closest friends, strangers on 4chan, that he's everything that he's ever claimed on the internet. In full camo and real tacti-cool boots, he waddles out the door of his mother's house, in the hope of finally meeting his dad.
He has enough jerky, GORP and MREs to last at least a week, but he's a pro, he can make it stretch by foraging mushrooms and hunting game with his slingbow, Arrowshooter.
"The first day's always the toughest", Anon thinks to himself as he makes his way to the furthest he's ever been from the safety of home. "In no time at all, my layers of fat will melt away into lean muscle, just like my /fit/ friens said it would." But even the toughest bushcrafters need to rest, so he sits down and peels the boots off his aching feet.
Anon realizes that the sun would be setting soon, he would need to prepare a meal and set up camp. Having mastered tents months ago, he decided a better challenge would be to make this trip with only a GI bivvy. Anon rolls out his accommodations and begins to heat up the last of his water to cook his MH meal. It had been a long and grueling day and water would need to be a priority tomorrow.
For the first time in his 35 years, he wakes up to the sun rising. He can barely move. Today will need to be a zero day. He digs through his bag to find his breakfast MRE, pissing what little hydration he had left onto the heater pack. The smell was awful, but he was in a survival situation after all. Still hungry, he opens his bag of GORP.
"Are you still practicing honey?" Anon's mother calls from the porch. "I thought you were leaving yesterday?"
"I did mom! Whatever. I'm out of food. I'm going to shitpost about Chris McCandles. If I can't do it, that newfag sure as hell couldn't have."