Bootcamping and, surprise, RUNNING!
Although I have been a little MIA on the running scene these last few weeks, I have managed to keep my ever-loving-expanding booty on the move. By pumping my own gas? Taking out the trash? Walking into Baskin Robbins vs. waiting in the car while Muffin fetches me a double scoop? Nope. Nope. And definitely nope. (He refuses to take the blame when ordering freakish amounts of dessert on my behalf. SO selfish.)
For the past 3.5 weeks I’ve been sucked in the the cult that is Soldiers of Fitness. I won’t liken them to Nazis or anything because that would be too
accurate inappropriate, but let’s just say I find myself doing things under their instruction that I wouldn’t normally even fathom doing (e.g. drag an 110lb tire through the slush at 6am…). Whether you call it brainwashing or fear or whatever…it seems to be motivating me. Because I’m a sucker…and it was free.
Anyhoo, I haven’t mentioned it much because I’m actually being paid to write about it over here (and here), so yeah…my little brain can only muster up so many words to describe the ruthless and relentless experience that is Soldiers of Fitness. (But c’mon over for a visit with a bottle of wine and I could be schnapped into telling you exactly what I think of endless chin ups, squat thrusts, sandbags and PRONE FREAKING PLANK POSITION!!)
However, much to my annoyance, I like it.
When my body wants to just roll over in bed and mentally flip the bird to instructors Dimacakos & Suurd (because I’m a gutless baby in real life), my head reminds me that it’s actually kind of fun. And that I actually enjoy being kicked in the arse (metaphorically – they’re not that mean). And that I haven’t challenged my physical limits like this in a long time. Then my throbbing quads quickly respond with “you’re an idiot” and I find myself layering up for another wet and dark morning at the park.
That said, I did hit the pavement this weekend for a little 9k jaunt and it felt goooood. (Likely because I wasn’t dragging three tires from my waist while doing it. Ahem, SOF.) It seems like this love affair with that hussy bootcamp is wrapping up just when I need it. After December, I needed a break from running. I checked out the other side of the green grass. Now I’m ready to be reunited with my true love. It’s all very Ross and Rachel but I think you get me. Running, I’ve missed you.
So what’s on tap? This weekend’s Peterborough Half? Not quite. But Dudes and I will be out there bringing MORE COWBELL as we refresh and replenish folks at a water station. I’m pumped to be cheering at a local race – especially because I know how important it can be to hear a few rah-rahs! when your legs feel like they are made of wet paper towel. So fill me in…who’s running this bad boy? Whaddaya need…gatorade or water? Jujubes or licorice? I’ll be watching for you, but I doubt you’ll miss us…we’re the two crappy volunteers accidentally passing over our mimosas while buried face first in a tub of Big Feet. Best.race.ever.
But as you know, being the best cheerleader ever just isn’t enough to motivate me. I have to pay cold hard cash for a race bib in hopes of keeping up any training plan. So really, what is on the race agenda for me? (Meaning that I’m actually running and not just bellowing “You call that running?!” in a hot chocolate/Baileys fueled rant.)
Ta-da! On April 22, if everything goes according to plan (evil finger tap), I’ll be heading to the Smiths Falls Spring Fling Running Thing! So I’ve got exactly two months to remind my legs that we likey running…and maybe even convince them that we likey not coming in dead last in a teeny-tiny inaugural race.