Spartan Kids Beasted Me

I just spent the last 28 minutes lying on my living room floor.

Cats started collecting on me five minutes in.

After the third cat, I decided it was time to move myself to the couch.

Now I’m lying here slathered in Deep Blue Rub with an ice pack under my right shoulder eating ibuprofen like candy and fantasizing about Rogue’s elbows.

(She has the best elbows…)

I’m 44.

You know how I said I ran the half mile kids Spartan yesterday?

This is largely because of that.

Breaking down camp and carrying gates and tables and tents around the field today didn’t help.

But it was absolutely the child’s race that put me here.

I’ll be running grown ass Spartans in July.

My body is unprepared.

Pretty sure my mind is, too. Because for real? When I walked up to the jump wall to get to the starting line? The three foot jump wall? I panicked.

For real.

It was one of those walls that the average adult should be able to do a one arm hop over.

Seriously. That child on the right can’t be more than two feet tall. Homeboy in the purple appears to be hurdling it and no way he’s even five feet.

I’m 5’4″

I had to climb over it like a graceless cow.

I have a sincere mental block at wall and monkey bar obstacles.

I mean, I made it over the little child’s wall.

I wasn’t a total weenie.

But I for real had visions of trying and failing to make it over the teeny tiny toddler wall and all of the Spartan staff and volunteers and children pointing and laughing at me. I pictured myself becoming the first ever person banned from Spartan for being a complete pansy.

I mean, I did make it over. But it was ugly.

And now I’m permanently attached to this ice pack.

I’ve got some work to do before July.

Most of that work is Tiny Brazilian’s responsibility. She and J-Vicious are gonna beat me into Spartan shape. (Or at least 500 Spartan burpees shape.)

But some of it also needs to happen on the mountains.

And since Skratch and Goatfinder just threw the gauntlet down via Facebook Messenger, I’m gonna have to do my own Memorial Day Mountain Murph.

I suspect a few folks may join me. Because when we finish running 6 mountain miles and I say, “let’s do 300 squats and 200 push ups and 100 pull ups!” They’ll be down. And when I say, “and then let’s run the 6 mile loop again!” They’ll be even downer.

We do stupid shit for fun.

I should probably pack more ice.

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