A weekend of pain, and still no medals.

Thankfully I had today (Monday) off work, because the fact that I spent 90% of my time on the sofa or in bed told me that I needed a bit of rest.  Between work, the gym, and running, I don’t have an awful lot of spare time.  Typically, I leave my apartment before 8am and don’t get back until 8-9pm.  Then I eat, shower, and sleep.  It can get pretty gruelling, and having a day off every once in a while gives me a rare opportunity to be lazy – apart from, you know, the half hour on an elliptical machine, and one hour spin class I just got back from, and cleaning my apartment.

But last weekend was particularly draining.

Friday night I went out because a girl I know was having a launch for a book she has written.  It’s classified as ‘dark fantasy’ as well as ‘erotica’, and the launch was suitably geared towards the kind of person that would be interested in reading about magic/goth stuff/sex with knives.  I mean, there was a reading, a burlesque performance, and a magician, and a few people I knew were going, so I thought I’d use it as an excuse to dig into my teenage wardrobe and goth it up for the evening.  I should probably learn to exercise some self-restraint, because I may have been ‘slightly’ overdressed for the occasion.  Or, you know, under:

Significant cleavage

Significant cleavage

Anyway, despite planning to stay for an hour or two, I ended up there for longer, and got home with a white pudding supper in hand, because beer makes me crave hot food.  Unhealthy, but delicious.

Lightweight - already on the soda/orange juice combo.

Lightweight – already on the soda/orange juice combo.  Also, more near-obscene cleavage.

Saturday morning I was up bright and early to hit the gym for an hour of weights before being picked up by Danielle for a CrossFit taster session.  The sun was shining, the skies were blue, and I was almost reluctant to go indoors again.  Almost – it was freezing.

The taster session was similar to the one I did during Fitness Week at school, but we worked on perfecting technique for different moves (to be incorporated into the WOD).  On the menu?  Squats (ugh), and kettle bell thrusts.  Before I realized it, there were only 15 minutes left, and we were onto the workout.  We were told it would be a ‘partner’ workout, and we had to pair up with someone we’d never met.  I ended up with Olly, a guy in a triathlon shirt, and my initial plans to take it easy evaporated instantly when I heard the words: “For time”.  The WOD was:

  • 200m run
  • 80 squats
  • 80 KB thrusts
  • 200m run

Thankfully, the 80 squats/KB thrusts was the total number to completed as a team, so 40 each.  I was also pretty glad that it only had to be done once, and it looked a hell of a lot easier than my first CrossFit experience.  Spoiler: it was.

Olly and I managed to finish first, in 7:09, and I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up.  Excellent.

Danielle + me after our CrossFit experience.  (Photo: Danielle's)

Danielle + me after our CrossFit experience. (Photo: Danielle’s)

After CrossFit, we felt we had earned a delicious meal at Nando’s, over which we had some quality girl-chat time, before Danielle set off to catch the tail end of the rugby, and pack for her holiday!

By the time I got home, it was pretty late, and Ian and I just relaxed and watched some brainless TV (and I intermittently checked Sunday’s forecast with increasing horror)  before getting an early night.  I also foam rolled my calf, because even during a pitiful 200 meter jog, it was aching.

Torture.

Torture.

I woke up to the sound of the wind howling and hail hitting my window at about 6:30 on Sunday morning.  Gross.  Today I was scheduled to run 19 miles.  I was not enthusiastic about leaving my bed, but I had created a  Facebook event to dissuade me from backing out, and I knew there would be people waiting for me at 8am.  I re-checked the forecast (hoping that it would tell me summer would magically appear in an hour), and resigned myself to the fact that the weather was not going to make the morning pleasant, while I shoved tasteless porridge into my grimacing mouth.

Not inviting.

Not inviting.

I got to our meeting point with a minute to spare, and Ishbel poked her head around the corner and joined me.  Shortly afterwards, Claudia arrived, and after deciding everyone else had either bailed or was opting to join us for the tail end of the run, we set off.  Within a couple of minutes, we ran into Naomi, who wasn’t initially going to run with us, but had set off earlier and chanced running into us.  We did a 3.5 loop through hail, sleet, and biting wind, and decided we would avoid loops along the beach promenade (where we had arranged to meet any latecomers) for as long as possible as it is particularly exposed.  Instead, we headed onto the Deeside Railway line for ‘shelter’, and enjoyed more of the horrendous weather.  Naomi split at this point as she had unwisely had a spicy pizza the night before, and she was experiencing some discomfort.

We ran as far as we could before the ice on the path became treacherous, then turned back, bringing our total to 10 miles.  A few circular hill reps (not well-received) helped bump up the distance, and at 13 miles, Ishbel left us to continue without her:

Smiling because she is done.

Smiling because she is done.

Claudia and I are PUMPED to continue.

Claudia and I are PUMPED to continue.

The last 6 miles are a blur of awful weather conditions, running past Naomi, flying sand, dodging pedestrians, and wanting to be done.  We managed to time it so that we finished right in front of the coffee shop where planned to go for our now traditional post run hot chocolate, and where we eventually recovered feeling in our fingers:

Lobster red skin courtesy of Scottish weather.

Lobster red skin courtesy of Scottish weather.

Sitting in the coffee shop, looking outside at bundled people struggling against the snow and wind, we were not keen to walk home in just our running gear.  In fact, we were so desperate to be rescued that we managed to convince Ronnie to come and pick us up to take us home (he lives about 2 minutes away, so it wasn’t a ridiculously crazy diva demand).

Showered and defrosted, I slapped on some compression calf guards and thermal socks, and listened to the windows rattle in the wind and the hail pinging off the panes.  I wont lie, I felt pretty smug.  And sore.  Definitely sore.

Thankfully this week should be less crappy, as next Sunday is a 6 mile cross country race – and one which should yield the first medal of 2013!  Oh, and there is the small matter of my birthday (the most important annual holiday – naturally).

8 thoughts on “A weekend of pain, and still no medals.

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