“Sunshine? Can you come out here for a minute?”
That’s never a good sign.
“Oh no. This is very good.”
See, it was the way he emphasized very. That led me to actually believe him.
So when he pointed to my shoeless car. And said I not only needed rear brake pads. But front break pads, too…
For the good news.
The very good news.
“It’ll be another $140.”
I feel like maybe you don’t understand the words that you’re saying.
“We can go ahead and take care of it today. While we already have your tires off.”
Dude. I’m already perilously close to not being able to eat for the month of July. How bout we wait.
Apparently we’re just interpreting words to mean whatever we want them to mean now.
So, I’ve decided that I’m gonna start measuring my run mileage not just in miles, but also in elevation, as well as heat and humidity.
At some point several days ago, I agreed to 30 miles at Day Creek with Beautiful Beastie and K-Rob-D.
That happened because I have the remarkable ability to pretend that the weather will suddenly shift 20 degrees in two days. Which. I mean. Virginia. So…
And I was ok. For about the first three minutes. Of our run. But then the sun came all the way up. And the humidity just increased by 5,000%. And the mosquitoes were living their best lives. At 6am.
And then the climbing started.
So, basically. By mile six. I knew I wasn’t getting 30 miles in yesterday.
By mile nine. K-Rob had actually started melting. Like, for real legit melting. Her body was slowly dripping off of itself. I have never seen this happen to anyone that was not OT or GJB.
It. Was. Terrifying.
Around that point, BB stopped by this little hill. And asked us if we wanted to run up and see the non-view. And K-Rob and I hesitated. For a second. Which is all BB needs to decide yes. Yes, we want to do this thing.
So we climbed up. To what appeared to be a grave marker. Which seemed entirely appropriate.
And then there was the pain. (There’s always pain, right? I haven’t been pain-free since 2016. At least.)
My left foot and ankle are STILL all kinds of fucked up. And while my legs seem to have finally adjusted to the extra work required by Altras. My foot and ankle are still totally offended by the complete lack of cushion or stability they provide on Virginia’s rock-strewn trails.
And also. My neck and shoulders have not recovered from four hours in the car Sunday. Because I’m 45. If I force my body into any one position for any extended period of time. Say, longer than 10 minutes. Rigor mortis sets in. And my body wants to just stay in that position forever.
So that when you force it back out of that position. It just shoots pain through some random body part. Forever.
Anyway. I knew well before we hit the top of Blackhorse Gap that I was dipping out. And I was taking K-Rob with me. Before she melted away completely.
And given my current knowledge of the creepers who circled back around after K-Rob and I left. I’d like to have made BB dip out, too.
But she is unstoppable. And I never suggest she quit. Because it’s pointless.
So she continued on. While I went home to contemplate the afternoon activity I’d committed to.
It seems like a wreckless decision now. Given the elevation and technical trail I’d forced my legs to carry me up that morning.
But I showed up anyway.
Because I’m reliable.
And the moment I got out of my car.
No. Just no. Please no?
And then he stood there. Hovering mischievously over his stupid little white board. “What kind of workout should we do…?”
And then he got that look in his eyes. That makes me want to just walk out and go back home.
“I know! Forty five minute wall sit!”
And a flood of relief. Because a wall sit workout doesn’t sound like a partner workout.
But then I glanced at his stupid little white board.
And it said
45 Minute Wall Sit
I’m sorry, what? How? Why????
And so I spent the next 15 minutes lobbying for LL to be his partner. And for Fall Risk to be mine. Because she knows how to act. And I had some very strong arguments in my favor. I made a solid case.
But justice, being anything but just, was nowhere to be found.
So here’s what happens.
There is a list of leg exercises. (All of them weighted.) Back squats. Front squats. Pendulum lunges. Blah blah blah.
And five minute rounds.
Partner A wall sits while Partner B does the first exercise. Until Partner B can no longer do the exercise. Then Partner A does the exercise while Partner B wall sits. After five minutes. You switch to the next exercise.
And let me point out that I didn’t fully understand the rules. Before we started. And my desperate pleas for further explanation, because I knew J-Vicious was gonna use those rules to try to make me cry, went unacknowledged.
So we started with J-Vicious wall sitting. And me back squatting.
“Go get the red weight.”
So I did. Because I’m compliant.
“What are you doing???”
I’m…grabbing the red weight. Like you said…
“Not that one. The other one.” And he pulls out that bitch that has the words “700 pounds.” Written on it. In red.
I’ve told y’all about that bitch before.
And I know it’s not actually 700 pounds. But the way I struggle to get it up and onto my shoulders. It’s gotta be close…
And then he grabs a rather large sand bag. To hold for the wall sit.
How heavy is that?
“Don’t worry about it. Focus on your squats.”
And the first round was fine. We switched out like normal, respectful people would. Largely because I still didn’t fully understand the rules.
There was a moment of fear during my second round of back squats. When I couldn’t lift the 700 pound barbell off my really angry shoulders. But I eventually managed it. Through sheer force of will.
I did struggle to get the sand bag up onto my lap for my wall sitting.
Seriously. How heavy is this?
Five minutes passed. And we moved on to front squats.
Again. Fine. We were both still acting like respectful adults. And I still didn’t understand the rules.
And then we hit pendulum lunges. And I was the one lunging. So I grabbed some weights.
And started lunging.
And then LL grabbed some weights…
And J-Vicious got nosy.
“What have you got, LL? Are those 15’s? Sunshine, are those 10’s?”
“LL you wanna switch out with Sunshine?”
And LL approaches me.
And shit got serious for a minute.
Bitch, I love you. But you’re gonna have to pry these out of my hands.
So she kept her 15’s. And walked away.
“It’s ok, LL. I’ll switch these out when it’s my turn. And get Sunshine some 20’s.”
And if he just hadn’t said that. Hadn’t mentioned 20’s. He might not have had to wall sit for seven solid minutes.
Because at that point, I’d figured out the rules. I’d figured out that I could just keep working through the exercises. While he wall sat. Forever.
No way I was gonna let him take my 10’s from me for these dumbass pendulum lunges. Dude, are you crazy? I ran 15 miles up and down a mountain this morning. My legs are barely holding me up as it is.
So I did the whole five minutes of pendulum lunges. Then went straight into the sumo squats.
Which are my favorite.
So I planned to just do the full five minutes of those, too.
And he may have called me a bad name. Which he rarely does. So I was feeling pretty good about myself.
But then J-V did something he’s definitely never ever ever done. In all the histories. Ever.
He was nice to me. He politely asked, “Can I please stop wall sitting now?”
And it was so sincere. Like a small child. And because I am such a kind, gentle soul. I fell for it.
And this is where things got ugly.
Because his happy ass. Free from the sand bag. Started bouncing around. In his sumo squat. Dancing for his boyfriend. Who was there with his wife, btw.
Danced through the rest of the sumos. Right on through the regular lunges.
And I’m just wall sitting with this damn sand bag. Just trying to hold my shit together. And keep my leg muscles from cramping up.
I swear to fuck, you keep dancing with your boyfriend, I’m dropping this sand bag.
Seriously. How heavy is this thing?
“It’s just 60 pounds.”
This feels way heavier than 60. But also. Why am I holding 60 pounds in my lap during 8 minutes of wall sitting???
After he finished dance-flirting his way through lunges. He picked up a weight for hamstring curls.
Does that say 60???
And he saw the terror in my eyes. At which point, he decided to switch out.
I’m afraid to unbend my legs today.
I swear to fuck my hamstrings are just gonna snap if I even ask them to fully extend.
There was some other torture. During that 45 minutes. He grabbed the purple band. The immovable one. For overhead squats. Psht. I could barely push that thing over my head. Let alone squat at the same time.
But also I was barely managing to get and keep the sandbag on my lap for the wall sitting.
And then. After 45 minutes. We were done.
And my calf muscles were doing that shaky thing they do when they’re getting ready to say, “Fuck it. Unleash the kraken. Bring on the pain.”
“Thunderstruck pop squats! Let’s go!”
So I think. That’s why. That my body was so distracted by the leg torture. That it forgot about the shooting pains it was sending through my foot and shoulders.
Like, that shit actually made me feel better. While simultaneously making me feel worse.
Like vudu magic or some shit.
But a good night’s sleep. And the pain is back today. In all the places. And I’m reluctantly feeling like Arm Day is probably exactly what I need to do. To work the stiffness out of my shoulders.
Also, it has taken me this long to workout the math for my new run mileage measurement formula.
Here it is. Add on ten miles for every 1,000 feet of elevation gain. Plus another five miles for every degree of temperature over 80 multiplied by every percent of humidity over one. So, yesterday, K-Rob and I ran approximately 126 miles. Give or take.
BB ran close to 1,000.
Also, we’re pretty sure K-Rob left her soul out on that mountain yesterday. I’m thinking it’s somewhere around the grave marker that BB made us climb up to.