I’m always surprised at just how much I don’t freakin’ know, ya know? You’d think after 2 marathons, thousands of miles and countless hours in the gym this year that I’d have all of my proverbial sh*t worked out. (Not so.) It turns out the longer I’m at this whole running, fitness, workout thing… the more laughable it (or I!) becomes.
Here’s what I mean:
Last week, I attempted to turn around, in the pool, underwater. (I should Google how to do this.) Somewhere in the middle of simply trying not to drown… the lower portion of my a** ended up suspended, in mid-air, for what felt like an eternity. When I finally managed to get all of my parts back in the water, my knee slammed into the bottom of the pool leaving a bloody strawberry the size of a silver freakin’ dollar.
My brilliance doesn’t stop there.
Yesterday, I sat my a** on the rowing machine for 10,000 meters. Somewhere around the half way point, the towel I was sitting on worked its way under the seat. Here’s what happened next: The seat came to an abrupt stop. My a**, on the other hand, kept moving and landed directly on top of the cross bar. (Yeppers, right in the crack.) The only reason I didn’t topple over backwards is that somehow, my feet managed to stay in the straps.
I sat with that bar nestled in my crack for a full minute contemplating my options. Either I could 1) Fake death, (which felt viable at that point) or 2) Pretend nothing happened.
I packed in my pride and chose option 2. (If you saw me, please, keep that sh*t to yourself.)
After I showered and dressed, I hoofed it over to see my physical therapist:
Note: Matt is chasing a 2:15 at the California International Marathon this Sunday — holy! He ran Chicago just a few short weeks ago and was disappointed with time — a 2:19. (WTF.) I asked him what happened… he said, “Well, I got off pace around the 5 mile mark and jogged it in. It’s hard to believe anyone calls that pace a jog but whatever. Anyhoo…
I spent an hour busting tail in his presence. While lunging across the room, (with varying degrees of hilarity), it struck me that being injured somehow makes me want this even more. (Anyone?) Truth be told, I also spent several minutes berating myself for not taking my form, foundation and fitness more seriously when I started running. (It would have been a little easier, ‘eh?)
Here’s my lesson: There’s no room for ego when you’re chasing epic. If your a** hangs out above the water for a few minutes… oh well… hopefully no one noticed. If your butt crack ends up straddling a cross bar, keep-it-movin’ sister. And finally, if all else fails… either fake death…or pretend that sh*t NEVER happened.
P.S. Have you ever done something and thought, “Well, f*. Hope no one saw that!” Come chat me up at www.Facebook.com/BrooksFirstMarathon.
P.P.S. Good news! I should be fully back in the game in just a few months. Which means… I’m all in on Grandma’s Marathon in June 2014. If you’re planning to be there let me know! (email@example.com)
P.S.S.S. I’m super sad about Paul Walker’s death. But it reminds me that we’re only here for a short amount of time — don’t let anything stop you from chasing what you want.
And finally, I got this in the mail a few days ago from my sole sister Lynda. Does she know me or what?!