A handlebar to the gut is no fun and hurts way more the next day. I recommend it to no one.
On the other hand, this time I welcome being defaulted into a night off from... well, the million things I could be doing right now. Gives me a chance to sit around and indulge my travels in the love of wisdom.
Don't worry about me yet. You can start worrying when I take up golf.
"More than anything, love is the deep sense of being touched, moved, and inspired to heights beyond our normal limits. It is a connection with a deep, fundamental truth that runs through all of life and connects us together. Love makes the mundane sacred - so that it is cared for and protected."
-"Wheels of Life", Anodea Judith
We last saw our hero signing up for an obstacle race in her playground of choice with four days left to not train and anticipating certain shame. After choosing an evening of mountain biking over a boxing class, sharing a bottle of wine during the Stanley Cup finals, skipping yoga in favour of making hazmat fish tacos and then hosting a Friday night fiesta during which I was taken aback by how much alcohol is in a pitcher of margaritas, and then spending Saturday recovering and perusing a Tibetan craft shop and eating ice cream, I must say I'm impressed with my performance at the race this morning.
I fully expected to get creamed by my own unreasonable expectations, if not by the clock and the barbed wire.
It wasn't easy, but I did not get creamed.
Here's a catalogue of things I found pleasantly curious:
1) I have no reservations about running through a field of prickly and thorny weeds, though shaving my legs will be a horrendous experience until the Ozonol kicks in.
2) Sliding down a steep, wet, grassy, slippery hill while carrying a tire is not entirely unlike skiing without planting poles... Meaning, it's totally do-able, but really burns when your shoes hit the accidental dry patch.
3) It's easier to swim than wade, even in running shoes. I remember hating that drill when I got my bronze medallion fourteen years ago, but have made a surprising amount of use of the skill in the last few years.
4) Short people who can jump must be anomalies. It just doesn't make sense!
5) It isn't difficult to run up steep hills, but the wisdom of the endeavor will show itself in my ankles tomorrow.
6) I could never climb ropes in school, and I can't climb ropes in my twenties. I've decided I'm almost okay with that.
7) Throwing a spear any distance is almost exactly like throwing a football any distance. Coming from a family where men by far outnumber women, I've never been more thankful to have learned early how to throw a football.
8) Climbing and crawling are fun. In a forest, to me, they're all too familiar.
9) We jumped over fires for Ivana Kupala when we were seven... The organizers could have gotten away with a bigger fire.
10) Barbed wire over a pit of ice cubes is cold.
Here's a much shorter catalogue of things I found considerably less pleasantly curious:
1) I need to put a little more work into breaking my falls. I made a stupid misstep on gravel near the end of the race. I would have taken the road rash, but caught myself on my hand instead of my shoulder. That was a mistake, and it'll take a day or two to survey the damage I did to my thumb. Regardless, I haven't felt pain like this in a long time. (Mom, my life would be so empty if I couldn't make you squirm!)
2) As someone who comes by clumsiness as honestly as I do, I keep (and use) a vast selection of first aid gear in my car. It's unsettling that I never have a simple tensor wrap when I need one. Damn.
And so, considering the mass of cuts and bruises on my legs, I sit here pondering the irony of wearing a dress and heels to work tomorrow.
Happy Father's Day!
So here's the scoop, for the three people reading this blog...
My love to you all!
Because the Warrior Dash in July is just not enough punishment, I registered for a similar race in Milton this Sunday. I learned about it last Saturday and spent most of the week trying to talk myself out of it, and then signed up with four days to "train", the Stanley Cup finals and a margarita party falling in that time frame. What it adds up to is, I'm Toast. People actually prepare for these things, where I, in my vast wisdom, forewent running at the ski hill all week in favour of yoga, mountain biking, laundry and learning to stomach fish (on which note, that much seasoning can't be good for anyone - stay tuned for my upcoming ulcer). This race will hand me my posterior on a pewter tray. To witness this glorious disaster, call me for details.
Elsewhere in the news, the bike season is open and I intend to celebrate the solstice next week eith mud, sweat and DEET. Anything yo expedite the process of turning clean clothes into dirty clothes.
Google it for more details. Stash is being a good sport and running it with me. Can't wait!!!
But... How does one train for something like that?
