We Do Work, Though

I keep looking down at my hands. Expecting to see blood.

I have this former co-worker. Let’s call her The Betrayer. That I hadn’t really seen in a lot of years. Until I showed up to PlayFITStayFIT and there she was.

And I thought we were cool, you know? Like maybe I knew I wasn’t her very best friend at our former place of employment. But we were chill.

Until today.

Yesterday my boss asked me if I was ok, as I limped gingerly past his office.

“I’m 44.”

That’s my standard response now.

The problem was…I stood up. And followed that up with actual walking.

The Achilles is acting up again. Apparently my sudden spike in physically demanding work the last several days after weeks of relative inactivity really pissed her off. But really, it doesn’t take much these days.

I’m 44.

I’ve accepted that I’ll never be healed.

After going back and forth about our Memorial Day Modified Murph Trail Run and the Blue Ridge Double, Skratch said, “I would say it’s amazing how you can workout so hard without injury, but you just ignore the injuries.”

Mostly accurate.

I’m 44.

Except that I don’t fully ignore them.

I also whine about them. Both in writing and IRL.

I make sure the world knows.

When I threw it out to Rogue and Fall Risk (formerly Dorothy) that we go to Leg Day and then hit up Mill Mountain yesterday, I got a yes from one of them to one of those things.

Apparently we prefer J-Vicious to the Star?

Odd.

Unfortunately, I put my invitation on the Facebooks, and J-Vicious saw it.

So at the end of leg day, he asked if we were heading out for our star run.

Me: No.

J (in his best Eddie Haskell voice): But you said you were.

Me: But Fall Risk said no.

J (in his best smartass teenager voice): But it’s on Facebook. You committed.

Me: I already ran the greenway before this.

J (in his normal obnoxious voice): But you said you never run flat.

Me (to Fall Risk): You know, when I ask you if we should hit up leg day, it’s ok to say no.

FR: Haha.

FR (in her way too chipper so soon after leg day voice): Arm day tomorrow?

Me (in my resigned I’m 44 voice): Obviously.

But today I was working on a Habitat for Humanity site with my YouthBuild kids.

It was 5,000 degrees outside today.

You have to wear long pants. And t-shirts. And hard hats on site.

In the sun.

And these kids were serious about working.

I’m 44.

So 7 hours in the sun taking down temporary utility poles and pulling up rebar and hanging siding and carrying out unused drywall and removing old lumber and insulating heating pipes in a tick-infested crawl space later, I’m in the PlayFITStayFIT parking lot. Pulling ticks out of me. The ones I can find. And I’m not being real modest about my search.

I’m sorry Family Bible Fellowship, but I need to make sure there aren’t any ticks crawling up my hoohah.

I don’t want that shit that makes you vomit when you eat meat.

The beauty of building a house in the sweltering sun is that it distracts you from the pains of leg day.

Until you sit in your car for thirty minutes to regroup.

Then everything just kind of seizes up on you.

I’m 44.

Fell asleep for about 12 minutes while I waited for Fall Risk to show up. Dreamt about tacos. And pancakes.

And then tried to get out of my car.

I’m 44.

Managed to drag myself into PlayFITStayFIT. Saw Fall Risk and kinda cursed her for existing in my space while suggesting arm day.

J-Vicious laid out the workout. Gave us options. I was busily reading through them looking for the best four.

Because I’m 44.

And then here comes freakin Betrayer. And these ducking tire walk up push up sledge hammer hitty up things from hell.

J-Vicious felt that The Betrayer needed a partner. And that I needed to be that partner.

As I was vehemently disagreeing, because I’m 44, Fall Risk is kind of shaking her head on the down low and mumbling, “Don’t do it. Just walk away.”

But as Rogue pointed out, I’m the chick that “awkwardly apologizes for her being until others don’t know what to say.” Which is COMPLETELY accurate.

I don’t like to disappoint people. So if Muscular White Gut gives me a damn direction, I’m gonna follow it. Not because I respect authority so much as I like to do what I’m told.

It makes sense.

Plus. A challenge? Like I’m gonna walk away from a blatant challenge?

Hell, I’m trying to decide what time I have to leave my house Monday morning to run to Carvins Cove in time for our Modified Murph Trail Run. Because Skratch dared me to. I mean, I won’t actually. But mostly because there’s way too much math involved. And I’m afraid I’ll drop my beer on the way. And Achilles has promised she will flip the fuck out. And I’m 44. But I legit considered it.

Let me help you. Carvins Cove is at least a one hour drive from my home. Going about 60 most of that way. And then I have to factor in my average pace. And coffee breaks. Because obviously. And pee breaks. Because coffee breaks. Right? Way too much math.

And I swear, the first one of you that comes at me with a suggested departure time because you’ve done the actual math, well. I probably won’t do anything. Because I can’t lift my freakin arms. Because Betrayer. But I’m gonna totally think really mean things about you in my head.

I don’t know exactly how many of these tire walk up push up sledge hammer up bullshit things we had to do. It was, like, 15 and 1 and then 14 and 2 and blah blah blah.

So I’m pretty sure it was approximately 2,000. Give or take a few.

When we were finally done with those, J-Vicious made Fall Risk do them.

Obviously I wanted to watch. Because the only person that has better workout facial expressions than Rogue is Fall Risk.

But that meant that I had to do tricep kick backs instead of pull down thingies. Which I was totally doing just fine. Until freakin Muscular White Gut’s damn trainer gene kicked in and he insisted on making me do them the “right way.” Which is total bullshit. Because the way I’ve been doing them for the last ten years was wayyyy easier than the sadistic method he claims is correct.

But I made it through. Didn’t even drop a 15 lb. weight on my head during the halos.

And so Fall Risk and I went over to Runabout’s pub run at Starr Hill. Because her chipper little behind thought that was a good idea.

So we went. And we signed in. Met up with Van One Driver. And we took ourselves right on up front for the pre-run pic.

And then as everyone was taking off, we jogged our happy little behinds fifteen feet right on into Moe’s for tacos. And then did a cool down walk fifteen feet back next door for our beer.

What.

We did work.

And Betrayer’s gonna be over here all like, “if she has the strength to lift a taco to her mouth, then obviously J-Vicious didn’t work her hard enough.”

Really.

No, that’s cool.

I wonder if J-Vicious knows your little trick on the tire walk up push up sledge hammer bullshit things…

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