Out. Of. Shape

Oh Beth, I feel like a lemming. I've been plugging along, not pushing myself because THE TOUGH MUDDER IS SO FAR AWAY. Only it's not. It's time to kick it in gear. I'm going to get caught up on my homework, and by the end of the week (conveniently the 9th, which is 3 months before the race) I hope to follow the training guide from the Tough Mudder website. My shoulder will have to get over whatever it is that hurts - I don't have time for an injury or repair. Sorry, I'm tired and had a huge pile of pasta for dinner. I had such fun this weekend and miss you already. Please hold me to a tougher training program and I will do the same for you. We can do this. I love you. Goodnight.

ThingOne and ThingTwo

There are two women who go to the gym each day at about the same time I do, and they're the youngish, mid-twenties, mean girl types.  You know the ones.  The ones who constantly have this expression on their faces.



They're both in great shape, no issue there, but I often catch them watching me (and others) as they work out -- then they'll quickly look away and whisper to each other and glance back with  . . . that look.  The look designed to make us average humans feel judged and want to crawl under a rock.

I've nicknamed them ThingOne and ThingTwo.

Subtlety -- not their thing.

And as mature and evolved as I am on most days (did'ya snort laugh at that?  didjya?  me too.  Almost couldn't type it), these girls irritate me.  I try very hard to smile pleasantly at them and ignore their bitchy looks and whispery discourse . . . and I see others at the gym trying to ignore them as well. . . .  but I'm not going to lie.  I really just want to smack them in the head with a dumbbell.

Well yesterday, nature did it for me.  ThingTwo (the brunette . . . ThingOne is a redhead) dropped a weight on her foot.  I'm sure it hurt (chuckle . .. probably a lot . . .  giggle), and ThingOne made a big production of helping her over to a bench and having her sit down, all the while looking around the gym as if to say "Ice, little people, someone bring us some ice!"

No one did.  I glanced around and it was fascinating to see how interested all the other gym goers were in the clock, the TVs, their iPods . . . ANYthing but ThingOne and ThingTwo.  Even more interesting was the thinly veiled glee with which everyone tried to avoid eye contact with them and the attempts to suppress laughter (varying degrees of success on the laughter suppression efforts  . . . , but to their credit, virtually everyone at least tried).

I really like my gym because ThingOne and ThingTwo aside, most of the people who go there are just normal people like me.  It's not like the L.A. Fitness or other GloboGyms where people are there to see and be seen.  The trainers and staff are all very nice, and the people who work out here are all ages and fitness levels.  It's comfortable.  People smile at my gym and I really like that.

But yesterday, I felt an enhanced sense of camaraderie with the people at Platinum Fitness . . . A shared sense of "that's not how we play here."

I don't wish ThingTwo ill and I sincerely hope her foot is feeling better.  I also wish her (and ThingOne) a little humility -- there is something wrong with everyone.  It's the one thing we all share.  The one thing that makes us ok.

 . . .  after they left, I carefully wiped the vaseline off the weights they were using.
                   (just kidding).

What the hell?

I feel MORE tired after trying to completely remove a stupid Internet toolbar from all instances of all browsers on my computer than I do after running two miles.

I hate malware.

HATE.

The wonderful thing about Pessimism

So I've been obsessing -- OBSESSING -- about the Funky Monkey.

I really want to do well and at least not embarrass myself -- and I have been worried about my shoulder and scared to death that I will fall.
Then I read a blog that says those suckers are greased anyway.

Odds are, I'm going to fall . . . In fact, I am now planning to fall and that makes preparing for this so much easier.
Don't get me wrong, I'm going to try and I am going to be very proud of each rung I achieve.  It's not like I'm going to just jump into the water, but hey, when the deck is stacked, one needs to revise expectations.

I feel better about this, actually.

Haven't had time to post -- and have gained 5 lbs.

This past couple of weeks has been so busy and I'm not going to lie.  I'm feeling discouraged.

I don't usually lose weight when I strength train and I wasn't expecting to, but I wasn't expecting to gain.  I haven't gained inches (been measuring)  but I have gained lbs and even though I know it's probably not a bad thing at all, seeing the needle on the scale go UP instead of down has me feeling discouraged.

On top of that, the more I work out, the more my shoulder hurts.  A year or so ago, I was on a trip to New York for business and had to run to catch a flight while carrying a very heavy laptop case.  During that jog, the case yanked hard on my shoulder and I felt a popping tearing sensation and my shoulder was sore for a day or two.
Perhaps I don't actually know the difference between "not a big deal" pain and "hmmm think I might have damaged something" pain . . . but I'm suspecting that I actually damaged my shoulder at that point.

Anyway, since I've been using it more and challenging it more it's been, well, a pain.  I'm going to go to the doctor to get it checked out to see if I actually do (as I suspect) have some rotator cuff damage.

On the "Up" side -- there is a groupon this week for bootcamp classes that are being held at a park close to my house.  I think I'm going to sign up.  Their focus is interval training and that is supposed to be very good for strength and endurance training.  I've always wanted to do one of those "exercise in the park classes (although in my mind it was something relaxing like yoga) so I may give this a try.  It's cheap.  Nothing to lose really.

So that's where I am on this stuff.  Feeling down in the dumps and kind of crappy.  I'm sure it'll get better, and I'm sure once the doctor can tell me what is wrong with my shoulder and can do something that helps it feel better I'm sure I'll feel a lot better.

We can do this.  I know we can -- but I haven't been feeling on top of the world recently.

In other news -- we have made a lot of progress on the guest room renovations so when you get here, your fit self can work out with my flabby self and motivate me.  :)

Mimi's epiphany. Drum roll, please.

Here it is, Beth. I was thinking about the sheer volume of obstacles at the race (twenty five to be exact).  If we are only to run 10 -12 miles, then the distance between the obstacles is only 1/2 mile each +/- a bit. That's barely enough time to recover from each obstacle. There is no need to run great distances in this race. Yes, I will still run. No, I won't run 10 miles at a time in preparation. There's no need.

How's that for a 'wow' moment? I just hope I'm not wrong.

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike...

In the immortal words of Freddie Mercury, I want to ride my bicycle. Wow, 6 miles for my first ride (other than a spinning bike) in fifteen years. It felt great. I do love the feel of my feet hitting the ground when I run, but I felt as if I could go on riding forever. Having clip-in pedals is a little intimidating, so I kept one shoe just resting on the pedal. I'll get there - it's just like riding a bicycle, ha ha.

My upper arms are so sore from yesterday, but in a good way. I did the 5 sets of 8 lowering exercises from the bar in the doorway, but did them very slowly (which is probably how they should be done). I do need to get started on my abs. Ugh! I should photograph myself NOT sucking in my stomach. That'll do it. Of course, I won't be able to sleep then...

Off to hit the shower, as Hailey is out of school at noon today, tomorrow and Friday.

Yawn!!!!

Today.  I am bored.

Can't wait until gym.

Is this PMS? or is my husband really an emotionally unavailable ass?

Of course I can't really ask if it's PMS because I don't "M" anymore.

I do have the ovaries though, so I get all of the emotional mood-swings without the monthly reminder that they're transient.  Kinda sucks.

My husband has hardly spoken to me in three days (which was challenging because we spent most of that time with family) and it's got me completely on edge.
There are days when I feel like forget loving me, he doesn't even particularly like me  I speak, he rolls his eyes.  I ask a question, he answers it like I don't have an active brain cell in my head.
He has mood swings when it comes to my participation in this race -- but right now, he's on the "Why should I be proud of you?  You haven't done anything yet?"  swing.

I said -- "well, I'm working toward something that is cool and extraordinary.  I'm planning to do something that most people can't do."
He rolled his eyes and said "Except the thousands of people who do it every year."

I replied "yes, Thousands -- out of the millions of people in the US.  a few thousand take the time and have the motivation to get into the kind of shape they need to be in to complete this race.  It's not something the average person off the street can walk up and do.  I can't do it without training.  You can't do it without training."

He said "I did it in boot camp.  What do you mean I can't do it?"

And here is where I know he's wrong.  He can't just get up off the sofa and run a ten mile race . . .  but HE believes he can, and since he has no desire to try, HE won't consider that it might actually be difficult, and since HE will neither try it (thus learning that it's not as easy as he thinks it is) nor will he re-examine his own flawed beliefs about how difficult it is . . .  he has no respect for the efforts I am making.

AND, when I complete it, that means his response is going to be "well, it can't be all that difficult if you did it."

There is no winning here.  If I finish the race, then he will say he's right and it's just not a big deal -- easy peasy.  If I don't, then he is right and I am trying to do something that is stupid and I'm just going to get hurt.

Either way, all efforts I make toward this are marginalized and trivialized.

What's more, when I tell him that's how I feel, he says "well, you're not doing this for me.  You say you're doing it for you, so it shouldn't matter to you that I think it's stupid."

And every month, I keep asking myself -- am I making excuses for him?  Have I built him up in my mind into a good kind man who loves me and respects me and am I in love with the man I've invented instead of the real man I married?

But each month, it also seems very tied to my own emotional highs and lows.  So I'm sure a little of both is true.  I think I probably do make excuses for a man who is less emotionally available than I like . . . and I think I'm also feeling very sensitive about that so it bothers me more right now than it does at other times.

I wish I could see this clearly.  Right now it's all emotion.

Listen to the Mustn'ts

Listen to the Mustn'ts, child.
Listen to the don'ts.
Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles,
the won'ts.

Listen to the never haves,
then listen close to me.
Anything can happen, child.
Anything can be.

                    ~ Shel Silversteen

I love this poem.  I used to recite it with my kids every day before bed.

It resonates for me right now because at the moment, all the mustn'ts, shouldn'ts and impossibles are in my own head.  They keep company with all the should haves and the not quites and the other monsters in my closet and under my bed.

These things wake me up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.  I think of every thing I failed to accomplish and I feel like an incredible fraud and that everyone I know is suddenly going to figure out that Beth is no genius, Beth is not a master programmer, Beth is not compassionate or wise . . . Beth is not an athlete.
Beth is, at best, average.
And I worry that when people figure that out, they will lose interest.

So this is what the Tough Mudder means to me -- it's something extraordinary.  It is something I can and will do.
And it is my way of making sure that the monsters under my bed take one to the chin.
I may not slay them -- but I can make sure that each time they beat me up, I beat back.

Logic tells me that I have also failed to swim the English Channel, or cure cancer -- but those things don't bother me because I never tried to do them.  My demons are the things I tried to do . . .  and failed.
Often the failure isn't actually failure -- most of the time, in fact, it is a conscious decision that there are other things on my "to-do" list that take precedence, and if I want to see something get done, I need to hand it off to someone who has both the time and the ability.
But it's that word - ability.
I have the ability and my monster's voice tells me, if I'd really wanted to, I could have made the time.

Is that true?  Maybe.  Probably not.  Ultimately, it doesn't matter because I'm going to beat myself up over it anyway.

Y'know, when I wrote my Master's thesis, my instructor wanted me to have it published.  I declined.
The reason -- I felt like it wasn't my best work.  I felt like if I'd just pushed harder or done more research, it would have been more brilliant.
I got an A+ on it.  My teacher thought it was wonderful.
And I STILL beat myself up over it.  I got a damn A+ and I still couldn't think it was great.  The idea of accepting that I did something extraordinary just isn't in my wheel house.
After all, if I could do it, how hard could it be?  (says the monster under the bed -- bitch.)

Why do I do this?  Why I am terrified that I will never be good enough?
Good enough for whom?

Mimi talked me down out of my tree today and for that I'm amazingly grateful.  She is, ever the champion for the underdog and when I said I was upset, she was all ready to kick the snot out of whoever was bothering me.  I know the feeling.  I feel that way about anything that messes with people I love too.
And let me tell you.  It was wonderful to have that sort of unquestioning support and love.
Problem is -- to kick the snot out of the person doing a number on me, . . . she'd have to kick the snot out of ME.  Isn't THAT a kick in the pants?

How she managed to find exactly the right amount of "You did the right thing, so let it go and move on."  and "but wow that does sound hard to deal with."  I don't know.  But it was exaclty right and I feel much better.
So, thank you.

Did arms again at the gym yesterday.  Can't straighten my right arm at the moment, but that feels wonderful.  It feels like the monster under my bed is going to get a tremendous upper cut (don't have to straighten my arm for that one) to the chin.

And Mimi will follow with a right hook that says "Yeah -- don't mess with my friend."
I can't even express how much that kind of relentless and unquestioning support means to me.

<3 you Egg mate.  Thank you.

We can do this.

New paths, possibly literally and figuratively.

Today is a much better day physically. Perhaps it was the lunchtime diet coke that I allowed myself to have (bad, Mimi). It could've been the slice of chocolate birthday cake that Fred brought home from the office because he wanted me to have some (how could I not say yes?). Maybe it was the soothing, catatonic post-brown rice pasta dinner. Whatever it was, the stomach ache was gone this morning and I set out to do a little exercise. Instead of just climbing up and down the hill around the corner from my house, I walked down, jogged 1/2 mile on flat ground, walked back up and repeated this twice for a 3 mile workout in 42 minutes. It relieved the boredom of the hill-only climb that I've been doing. I hope to throw in some abs later - I really need it.

I'm still trying to decide whether to go the safer route (Fundraising) or the Journalism route (which will rekindle the desire of my youth to be a writer). I think I know what I'm going to do. You only live once - and I need to make it count. I would love to write for a living, whether it's for others or myself. It's an exciting idea.

Here's to new paths...

Not a good day for this Dirty Blonde

I woke with the best of intentions: abs, abs, abs. What I was given was a stomachache that lasted the entire day, and is still with me (although soothed by brown rice pasta and the promise of dessert for Fred's birthday).

Tomorrow, as they say, is a new day. A better day. I will hill-climb, work on my arms, shoulders and another attempt at a chin-up (really, all I want right now is one). I will throw abs in there if my body lets me. I will also contact CSUN about their Journalism for Social Media program, along with UCLA Extension. I feel as if making these changes and meeting these challenges is energizing me. There is no stopping me, except for me. I won't let that happen.

I did have the awful thought of "What if this was to happen on race day? What do people do? What if I have my period?" Anything can happen, but I will be energized, with my dirty blonde partner who is such an amazing friend and sister-egg. I can do this. We can do this. We will do this.

I love you, Beth. This will be great. I am picturing the two of us jumping off the platform into the icy cold water, holding hands and grinning from ear to ear. I can't wait. We have almost 5 months to train. It will happen. We will show the naysayers. We will raise money for the Wounded Warrior Project. We will post photos and videos. We will triumph.

The Fighter

I saw this video the other day -- and it is one of those inspirational things I've ever seen.

This is now part of my workout mix to remind me that I "really ain't got it bad."

The biggest challenge is mental.

So far, for me the biggest challenge has been mental.  Each time I run, or I am working on a set at the gym, there is a little voice inside my head screaming "Owowowowowowooooooowwww!  You have to stop."

And that is the moment when most people do.

But here are the objections -- and the epiphany that they're mostly about mental grit, not physical really was an eye-opener.

Objection 1:  I can't do this.
                     Resolution:  You ARE doing this.

Objection 2:  I can't keep going.
                     Resolution:  Why?  Breathing ok?  muscles ok?  Why specifically can't you keep going?  Fix that, and then press on.

Objection 3:  IT HURTS!
                     Resolution:  It's always going to hurt.  Suck it up, princess.

Last night, I jogged upstairs with two full paint cans, hand-cut sheet rock, cut wood, patched three holes in the walls of my son's former room (he had a boxing phase -- don't ask) taped off the trim and applied the first layer of paint to what will be our new guest room.  And I did all that without breaking a sweat.
That's the kind of progress we don't realize we're making.

We're training harder to make everything else just a little easier.

The benefits of that manifest in the strangest places.  It's very cool.

BTW -- Happy Birthday, Fred.  Don't do anything I wouldn't do. That shouldn't limit you much.  ;)

Change is a good thing.

My first blog, and it's about change. Change in our team name from Dirty Girls to Dirty Blondes, change in workout intensity, eating habits and mindsets.

First, the name: To the woman who for some reason has OUR team name, you may complete the Tough Mudder, but not with the same panache, sheer determination and incredible teammate that I have in Beth. I couldn't and wouldn't do this without you. I know that you'll have my back, as I'll have yours. It's not about reaching a goal of xxx hours and minutes or completing all 25 (gak) obstacles no matter what. It's about pushing ourselves to be our best, doing this as a team and not thinking for one second that one of us would leave the other behind. I can't wait for February. We will be ready. We can do this. We will do this. As a side note, she can have all the creeps on the TM site message her (thinking she's a dirty girl as opposed to a muddy girl). We're blonde, and we're beautiful. Go Dirty Blondes!

Next, the workouts: My body hurts almost every day. I've been trying to incorporate more intense cardio by climbing up and down the same hill at a decent speed to build muscle. I know that this race is considered a "run", but there is no way to run 10-12 mile and complete the obstacles. Some walking, whatever it takes, will be fine. Women aren't built for this sort of thing. Sexist? No. Realistic? Yes. I will try my hardest, however, to last the entire course. Right now it is daunting, but by race day I hope to be ready. My new bicycle will be here within 10 days - I can't wait. If nothing else, runners have great legs and I don't. I will, though. I'm trying to do my upper body work every two days, but it's turned into every three days. As long as it hurts for two days following the workout, I know that muscle is replacing fat. It's all good. I am looking for my abs, but they seem to have left the building. I'm thinking of putting up wanted posters, but I'm too embarrassed.

The eating: I love food. I'm trying to reduce my "bad" carbs and dairy as much as possible, but it's not easy. I'm pretty much eating the same diet as before, but need to add some calories so as not to have my body take them from my muscle. I had half of a biscuit yesterday, gluten and all. It was delicious. After the race, we are eating and drinking whatever we want until we recover. That may take years.

Last but not least, the mindset: I am in awe of the people in the TM videos, as they don't seem to be next to tears. I am so glad that we are doing this for ourselves and each other, no matter what anyone else thinks. We are both strong women, and determined. Did I mention determined? I think about it often, which helps me to keep on track. It's important to have goals, and to remember that life is a journey. I don't ever want to reach my destination. No regrets. None.

We can do this.

xo

Mimi

I'm going to do this thing. Not sure if all my toenails will join me.

I may have my first battle scar.
This is actually a little upsetting because while I can say I'm ambivalent about my finger nails and I actively dislike the age spots on the backs of my hands, I've always been able to boast really pretty toenails.

Sounds silly.  Other women have gorgeous hair, or a killer bod.  I have (had) pretty toes.

Note to self -- keep toenails trimmed VERY short, or they can rub and catch on my sock and the inside of my shoe -- this evidently causes a blood blister to develop under the nail and has the lovely nickname, blacknail.
The nail turns purple (and hurts like a mother bear) then black, then falls off.  This process can take days or weeks, and in some rare and lucky instances, the nail re-attaches is just really ugly for a while, but doesn't fall off.

I had read about this and how repetitive abuse to one's feet can cause toenails to come off.  Other blogs call this "a cool runner's scar."  And it's nothing serious as eventually the errant nail does grow back.
Still, kind of gross.

So I have a nail on my left foot that is purple.  I'm hoping that it doesn't fall off because that whole process freaks me out a little. (ok, a lot).  But if it does, that'll be an interesting footnote (see what I did there?   Foot, get it?  I crack myself up) to this whole adventure.

If it falls off, I'll mourn the loss of my pretty little French Manicured toenail -- but hey, Halloween is coming up . . . and black is edgy.

I ran a full mile without stopping yesterday.  I ran a full mile without stopping yesterday, AND I can still walk today.  I don't need no stinking toenail.
(oh man.  stinking -- I hadn't thought of that.  I will not be nearly as zen if that becomes part of this equation.).

Battle Scars, Baby!!

Must ask about . . .ahmmm . . . restrooms on the Tough Mudder course

Because I almost pee'd  my pants when I leaned back to take this picture during my run/walk yesterday.

Not ready for Depends yet and I can't imagine they'd look all that great when worn with skin-tight compression pants.  In fact, ew.

Quoth Beth:  Yeah -- let's not do THAT.

Oh yes, I do

Yes, Mimi, I do take a bad picture.

I've taken several bad pictures.  Here is one -- and it is among the reasons that I'm doing this crazy race.
This was taken 1 year post back surgery.  I was about 185 lbs.  I would gain 23 more lbs before I was at my heaviest, and I would spend these years stressed, unhealthy and depressed.  I was 33.

Here I am ten years later

The best way to convince me to do something is to tell me I can't -- and the doctor who operated on my back told me that I would probably have to lead a sedentary life.  

I don't want to lead a sedentary life.

I DO NOT WANT TO LEAD A SEDENTARY LIFE.

I'm scared of going back to a place where I was heavy and unhealthy and got winded running upstairs in my own house, so that is a motivator.  But the biggest and most important motivator is the fact that I'm doing something extraordinary with a person I find to be extraordinary.  

Is it a mid-life crisis?  Maybe.  But there are worse ones.  And when I compare the two pictures above and think that there are TEN years between them I start to think "which one looks like a woman who might need a mid-life crisis like this?"  It isn't the second one.

So with that in mind, I'll embrace the concept and call the Tough Mudder my mid-life celebration.

I'm celebrating it with my egg-mate.  

It's gonna be awesome, because no matter how the race goes, I'm healthy, I'm happy and I'm doing something extraordinary with one of the best friends I've ever had.  I've already won.

Quoth Mimi:  We can do this.

Temecula -- I've been drunk there . . .

That's where we'll be engaging in this insanity.  Tough Mudder SoCal location has been released.
Temecula, CA.

Here is a link to last year's race in the same location:
http://toughmudder.com/videos/socal-1-2012/


Nick and I went to visit a friend in Temecula several years ago.

She and her husband are hard drinkers.  I am  . . .  not.  So I've been drunk there, but have never thrown up there.  I think that sounds like something to keep as a personal goal.  Beth Tridico has never thrown up in Temecula.

The countryside is very pretty -- and the temperature should be mild, so I think this is a good site for the race.  We were supposed to go on a tour of the wineries, but my friends were too shit-faced to drive an hour into our visit . . . so I haven't seen much of Temecula.

Current Mood:  Still apprehensive but excited.
Quoth Mimi:  We can do this.

Now it really begins

About a month and a half ago, I signed up to run the Tough Mudder SoCal this coming February 9, 2013.

I've been threatening to do this for a while and I really want to have a fitness goal.  Turns out, I have this crazy wonderful friend (emphasis on the word crazy -- she already runs and has a fantastic body and she is six years older than I am.  I'd hate her if I didn't love her.) Mimi!  Mimi was similarly looking for a fitness goal and (I have discovered) once committed will go after it with the vigor and determination of a Jack Russell terrier who has discovered a lizard in the back yard.  (I know this -- my dog is half Jack Russell -- friggin' determined little thing when she has a target in her sights).

Mimi is my biggest motivator in this because, although I am not very competitive (I sit at football games and wince thinking 'If I EVER saw someone THAT size charging at me for something as insignificant as a football, I'd say 'here, it's all yours' and run the other way) -- I mean I am REALLY not competitive -- but I have this one little problem.  I absolutely cannot stand feeling like I can't do something.  So I suppose, in a way, I'm only competing against me.  Mimi is competitive but has no wish to beat me, a fact for which I am eternally grateful and about which I will be reminding her that she had me beat out of the gate . . so this works out nicely for me.

This is a picture of Mimi (left) and me (right) during a hike to Griffith Park Observatory during my visit in July of 2012.  Mimi lives in Southern California.  I live in Arizona.
  This can count as our 'Starting Point' photo because as of the date of this picutre, we were talking about the Tough Mudder, but hadn't yet signed up.

Mimi is actually the kind of motivation I need.  See, she texts me and says "Four miles in 40 minutes" . . . and I picture her lithe fit body sprinting along a running path in Malibu and that's what I imagine myself to be as I am huffing and puffing along the Pantano wash trail in Vail, AZ.  I pretend I'm fit, and hot and my blonde hair is shining in the sunlight as my perfectly toned muscles glisten and the theme to Chariots of Fire plays faintly in the background.

The reality is that I'm listening to LMFAO's "I'm Sexy and I Know It" because I like telling myself that it has a 130 bpm and that's a perfect jogging pace for me.  But really it's the ultimate fake it til you make it effort.  I do not look sexy when I jog.  I do NOT glisten gently when I run . . .  I SWEAT, I turn red as a beet and I take on a facial expression that is a cross between constipation and agony.  This is not my gorgeous moment.  Not even close.  While I do have blonde hair, and on a fan-freaking-tastic day, it had wonderful shiny moments, these will never occur as I run because I hate things tickling my face, so my hair is up and hidden and does not stream gracefully behind me anywhere.  As a matter of pure fact -- there is no grace to this at all.  Just determination at the moment.  Stupid, stupid determination.

So -- back to the Tough Mudder and to Mimi and my final decision to abandon all claim to rational thought and cough up the $150 to register for this event.

the Tough Mudder is 10 - 12 miles of military style obstacles during which I'll be climbing, running, slogging, slithering, crawling, swimming and all manner of other things that seem a little insane now that I've irretrievalbly plopped down my registration fee.

Mimi is doing this with me.  So she's crazy too.  Did I mention I love her.  I really really do.  I do, because I'm scared.  I've been building muscle -- and I do feel a little stronger, but holy sh*t, I have a long way to go and Mimi has never even suggested that this might not be possible and that we might actually be insane.  Instead, she ends every message with "we can do this."  So I really love her.

Today is September 8, 2012.  T-minus 5 months and one day until the Tough Mudder.  I have been working out regularly at the gym for about two months now and it's time to really start training in earnest.

For the next five months, I'll be posting pictures and discoveries and complaints because I'm curious and I want to keep a record of how this is impacting my morale, my life, and my body.

Mood at the moment:  Apprehensive, but hopeful.

Quoth Mimi:  We can do this.