I’m currently sitting on my couch drinking Kombucha [which, btw, is fermented tea. Which I was told was another word for rotting. I love rotten tea.] I have no desire to do anything except stare at a computer screen, take a bath and drink my rotten, vinegar drink. PS — Kombucha is actually really delicious. I’m just being dramatic.
Aside from wanting to veg out and binge on New Girl, I logged 21 miles on the trails this week — which is almost double what I’m used to! Add on a double-WOD day of Karen + Fran (gross) and you’ve got a girl that has been holding her pee for hours on end because it hurts to sit down/stand up (wish I was kidding).
The 3.5 was a steady climb uphill — 1600 ft in 3.5 miles — so I spent almost the entirety of those miles power hiking. I ran the flats (which were far and few between), and power hiked my booty all the way to the top. Although I didn’t run UP, it felt good to be consistently moving. Like I said, I didn’t have any goals for this trail run other than to finish.
I made it to the top, took a breather at the Castle Ruins, and then made my way back down the mountain. The downhill was steep in some parts, and I’m lucky I didn’t chip a tooth. (FUn fact: When I was 7 I flipped my bike and broke my helmet in half. And also chipped my tooth.)
The next 3.5 were downhill, so I let my legs fly. Before you knew it I was back at the parking lot literally tasting my own sweat. I’m a salty sweater. Yum.
Monday — Karen and Fran. 150 wallballs and 21-15-9 thrusters + pull ups. Meow.
Tuesday — 3.5 mile hike: My coworkers were in town from Indy so we showed them how Boulderites do things as dragged them up Mt. Sanitas. Snakes were the #1 fear factor for these Midwestern folks. We didn’t see any. There were no screams.
The Finish Line Social Team taking a break from the interwebz.
Thursday — 3 miles. I put my shoes on. Moved my legs. Thrilling. But hey, you can’t beat these views!
Saturday — 7.5 miles: Not every run can be sunshine and rainbows. My last run at Mt. Falcon was equivalent to a bag of only-red sour patch kids (that’s what dreams are made of), while this one sucked. I was sucking wind and cursing every rock and literally tripping on everything on the downhill.
I was run-drunk and not the good kind of run drunk. I considered dropping a boulder on my foot so then I could end the run, but decided that probably wasn’t the most logical thing to do. So, I finished.
Tonight, I went HAM on the pull-ups, push-ups and ring dips at CrossFit so I felt like I had some redeeming qualities after the “I suck at running” run I had on Saturday (no, you’re dramatic). And that my friends is why I’m on the couch, drinking Kombucha and considering moving this party to the bed where there’s blankets and my cow pillow pet.
Oh… and I’m actually really looking forward to my run in the morning. Because without the suck, you don’t get views like this. And to be honest, there isn’t enough sucky runs to keep me from these trails! Happy Monday, friends!