Best Served EFFING Cold

So I know a lot of stuff...a lot of random stuff.  I know things like the full name of Los Angeles is " El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora La Reina de Los Angeles de Porciuncula",  I know that dolphins don't sleep, I know how to drive stick, I know how build an antenna out of copper wire, a soda can, a board and some nails,  I know all the dialog to both "Steel Magnolias" and "The Big Lebowski"  ( I didn't say that the things I know are all that useful) and I know how to take apart and reassemble and M-16 A2 service rifle with or without and M-203 Grenade launcher attachment.  In line with what I know, I ALSO do NOT know many MANY things.  I don't know exactly where Idaho is located, I don't know how to forge steel or what the "whip" does in the senate, I don't know how to spell chrysanthimum, I don't know  where my black TR skinny jeans are or what size tires go on my car. 

Of all the things that I know and don't know, There were a few that came into play this weekend.  I, in true Katya form, enlisted to participate in The World's Toughest Mudder about two weeks ago after some pirates got me drunk and stole my common sense.  I KNEW I wasn't prepared, I KNEW it was going to be cold, I KNEW it was not going to be licked on by kittens.  I did NOT know how unprepared I was (yes I did I kept saying it), I did NOT know HOW cold it was going to be (yes I did it is December...there is a lake involved) and I CERTAINLY did not know the many splendid virtues of a little thing commonly referred to as a wet suit (fact).

I GUESS I think I'm just too far removed from any real discomfort that can be brought on by elements.  I have been tanning, against the orders of the II MEF commander,  in The Middle East, so I have been really hot and slightly sun poisoned.  I have slid down the sides of mountains donned in frozen hoodies so I THOUGHT I had been cold.  I have literally almost drowned at the hands of one very large Radio Recon MCWIS instructor so I have been terrified in and of water.  All of these things can go ahead and eff themselves because they all got trumped. 

I'm not going to bore you with the inane details of the obstacles and the rules of this race...far better writers have illustrated these things and there is a website that can walk you step by step through what was required of all the participants.  So.. if you care...go look it up I'm not doing all the leg work here I ran the flipping thing you can make SOME effort.  I WILL however, choose to bore you with the equally inane (BOOM that's twice and I'm not positive what that word means) details of what the hell I went through...see I've been gone for a while you all forgot how self involved I am, and you forgot my affinity for run-on sentences crudely lacking in punctuation of ANY kind.

The majority of time spent on this course was spent wet.  Mud is wet, the ground was wet, Ice is wet-ish, metal gets wet, somehow wood was wet and yes...water is wet.  It's funny to me that I thought that some lulu Wunder Unders, a run swiftly tank, and run swiftly long sleeved t-shirt and a marmot zip up would keep me dry and warm...I mean duh they have wicking isn't that what wicking does?  Even funnier is my total and complete disregard for recommendations for gear MADE by the people who designed the course.  Hey, you there, maybe you wanna GET A TENT, GET A SLEEPING BAG, GET A WET SUIT.  Who me NAAAAAA I'm good.

The first lap I was spending 20+ minutes in a warming tent SIMPLY because I had to low crawl in a puddle or seven.  I HADN'T even GOTTEN to the "water section yet".  LET me tell you...there is nothing more completely whore-id than having to fully submerge yourself in 29 degree water after getting to slowly walk step by step deeper.  Oh wait I'm lying there IS something worse.  DOING IT AGAIN.  I have never felt that kind of cold before.  When I say I could feel nothing below my neck I mean NOTHING below my neck.  I KNEW things were there...I kept checking but I had NO feeling.  I got up to the "walk the plank" or as I lovingly call it "Go F*** Yourself" the chick manning the obstacle reached out and "snapped" my very fancy and kinda expensive compression pants and exclaimed "You're not wearing a wet suit" to which I replied "No...no I'm not".  God bless her she was so supportive.  She told me over and over I could do it and I was almost done and counted me down to jump several times, but MAN I wanted to punch her in the neck and tell her that its hard and honestly, almost physically impossible to throw yourself off of a 30 ft platform knowing EXACTLY what it was waiting for you...kind of like how your body just WON'T let you bite yourself until you bleed (go ahead I will wait while the majority of you try...whose smart now).  The body kind of really has this built in self preservation thing going on and will do everything it can to stop you from hurting yourself...like induce terror and common sense...neither of which unfortunately are stronger than stupid pride and sense of accomplishment but whatever.

Time for reflection gents.  Most of you who know me know that I do my best to find silver linings in most situations that are less than perfect.  OBVIOUSLY this situation was less than perfect.  I underestimated an event, thought myself a slight demi-god apparently, and in return for my insolence against the race gods, I got hypothermia and my ass handed to me.  SO my happy ending, 1. I now know what hypothermia feels like...it's a LOT like being drunk.  2.  I am not impervious to mother nature.  No one is.  We take rain for granted until it decides to remind us that it is in fact a reckoning force that can devastate entire nations.  I took rain lightly and it annihilated me...only not rain cold..you know what I mean try to keep up.  I don't presume to be some great athlete, by now I think that has been made avidly clear.  This race reminded me that I'm far from able to accomplish all unknowns.  There are things that will be thrown in my direct opposition for which I will have no answer,  for that I am grateful.  I find a great many things out about myself when I don't do as I expect.  Humility is a fantastic training tool.

End note:  Don't be fooled...it APPEARS I am smiling in most of the race pics but that's just the face I had to make so I wouldn't bite my tongue.

End End note: Hypothermia is a fantastic abs workout...look into it...OK don't really but yea ...do.

Uhhh.....What?

" I was heading over to that bar but you got to it first.  I was going to see if I could squeeze in some sets in between whatever that was you were doing but I was afraid you would beat me up"

WHAT????? So this is NOT the first time anyone has ever said that to me;  "whoa whoa sorry don't beat me up".  It's on the list with all the other "usual" things I hear and have mentioned before and to which I have become  def;  "you look huge", "you have man traps" ( that one was new thanks Jen Chen), "Have you EVER tried steroids?".  For some reason today I realized that I get the "beat me up" one a lot and I think it's RIDICULOUS.  I'm pretty nice...ask anyone.  I'm ESPECIALLY nice to people at globo gyms as they can come in kind of useful as various genres of resources (where to get my hair cut, good places to go for Mongolian BBQ, where the hell can you buy alcohol in Maryland)

Ask any of the people who ACTUALLY know me in real life...not ONE of them will tell you I have EVER beaten them up and MOST of them (my real life friends) have annoyed or pissed me off at least once.   Hell,  ask my sister.  We have DEFINITELY fought and I have NEVER beaten her up.  Ask ANY of my exes...ask Scott, or John...both exes that I have NEVER beaten up in fact we are still friends.  Geeze  Scott and I are still life besties and he made out with Liz Gibson while we were dating (in 10th grade that's a deal breaker...scratch that at 31 it's still a deal breaker).  So why do strangers think I'm going to beat them up...like it's not funny...it's not flirting.  If we go for the same barbell (I know you are going to be doing curls with it and I want to do OHS...that's annoying) and you go "oh oh sorry woops I don't want to get beat up please be my guest" uh...how about just let me use it cause I'm a lady and its polite.  Or ask if you can work your stupid curls in between my sets of shenanigans.  Is that turn of phrase  something you say in regular life to people? Like...if someone writes a report in your office and didn't use spell check would  you NOT say anything about it but let your cohort know your reasoning is because you are afraid you're going to get beat up? I'm a GIRL and contrary to popular belief apparently, I WAS in fact socialized  with other humans from birth; and aside from the times when it has been both accepted and expected for me to beat people up (Brazilian Jiu Jitsu) I have never beaten any one up...OK OK OK that ONE time in a bar in Jacksonville but that broad hit me first and they tell me I was laughing the whole time.

 Now don't get me wrong.  Sarah, Kim, Jenny, Amanda, and a few others will tell you that when it comes to my friends and the people I love,  I am very territorial and a little mama bear-ish and I have been known to stand up for the pertinent people in my life when I needs to be done BUT I DONT GO AROUND BEATING UP STRANGERS SO STOP SAYING IT TO ME!!!!

And for the record meat-head monster..."whatever I was doing" is called The Bear Complex and yes it makes me lie on the dirty floor  making that face, in lots-o-pain.  Also,  the bicep growers are over there on that girly rack by the mirror...this oly bar is for grownups so go play now...run along.

EFFING PIRATES

It unfortunately occurred to me yesterday that I have spent the last few weeks trotting around as quite the hypocrite.  I drone ON and ON ad-nauseam about how I do races that are SOOOO hard because I don't think about them and I'm so effing stellar at shit that I just SHOW up and run around on mountains without pre-thought.  Man I even annoy myself sometimes...well then there was Worlds Toughest Mudder.  I from the jump said "NO" I said it quite adamantly and quite abrasively refused to even consider it.  To me, it was a dumb idea.  A 24 hour race in the Dirty Jerz in DECEMBER where there is shit like electrified barbed wire strung over ice that you have to low crawl under/across, something called a cerebral something which is basically just " hey get in there it's a pool that is a lovely 40 degrees and we dyed the water purple".  A ten mile loop of all this BS for 24 hours and the winner is whomever does the most...the rest...catch up. 

SO if you know me at ALL, or know me well I guess, you'd know I hate few things.  I hate the abbreviation "lol".  Whenever I read it I hear little japanime girls giggling in my head and it bugs me.  I hate being late and people who are late, I hate driving, I hate when I cook oatmeal in the microwave and it boils over the bowl and I hate....HATE being cold. 

EVERYTHING inside of me is telling me that I do NOT want to do WTM.  It will definitely be cold.  It will DEFINITELY be cold.  It will DEFINITELY be cold.   However,  after a night of vodka, Styrofoam sword fighting and plaid clad Narnian Pirates, with no regard for what I want Josh and Margo The Great tricked me into registering...to the point where I didn't even fill out the form myself I just threw plastic around and allowed things to be charged to my bank account.  It really wasn't until today that I realized that in order to be able to continue to state truthfully that I do dumb things because I at one point I have told myself I couldn't do them...I had to do this event.

 So there ya go...I am registered.  The event is in 3 measly weeks and I am fully and in true Katya form completely and totally unprepared.  I will be amongst friends which is awesome but I'm not at ALL looking forward to it.  I know that most people sign up and they are SO pumped "I'm SO pumped I just want to crush it" yea we all know that ain't my style...I'm a fan of comfort and leisure and flannel sheets and leather man chairs.  I don't like rocks and mud or "the suck". 

SO I shall be in Jersey in a few weeks if anyone needs me to pick anything up.  I have no idea what it's going to be like because I refuse to read anything other than the required gear list and rules.  What's really starting to annoy me is I could have instead bought a pair of Christian Louboutin Miss Clichy pumps (well one of them) inSTEAD of registering for this event...now it's going to be done out of SPITE!!!

FML

You're going Where?

Ever have one of those moments when you realize you're an adult? I have been having a few of those recently.  Take today for example: I was reheating second lunch and I spilled a bowl of green beans and tomatoes on the floor.  For a split second I thought "Meh I'm going to leave that there someone will clean it up.  I really don't feel like dealing with that" then I had a second thought "You live alone Katya, no one is here to clean up after you.  If you leave that there you will get bugs".  So I cleaned it up against my will.  At  that moment I realized...I do things I don't want to... I'm a grown up...I think it's official.

The other thing that had me deciding that I was a grown up was a self realization of the possession of certain character traits that I wasn't positive that I actually had.  Certain very grown up characteristics at that.  They are wherewithal and tenacity.  Simple enough words I suppose but have you ever FELT tenacity? have you ever HAD wherewithal? They are kind of a big deal turns out.

There is a certain level of crazy it takes to decide to ruck from Philadelphia to Washington DC.  I have in the past admittedly been capable of just that type of crazy.  The thing that gets me to sign up and or agree to these events is that I don't ever really think about what they are going to entail.  Much like getting a tattoo or random body parts pierced.  You don't think about the fact that it's going to hurt just that after its done your going to have an awesome permanent tiger on your rib cage!  This is the mentality I went into the USMC ULTRA RUCK ON, hereafter to be referred to as UURO for time and spelling conservation.   Keith approached me with the idea a while ago...long ago enough that I probably didn't really think it would happen as sometimes I am CONVINCED time stops...like on the step mill...time STOPS...anyways so I agreed to it.  I didn't know what I was getting into.

We all met up in Philly this past Sunday.  Half of us were already WASTED face by the time the group was coagulated (yea I decided I could use it in this instance go ahead and try to stop me...it's my blog).  We strolled a few blocks to the commemoration site of Tun Tavern, the birthplace of the Marine Corps, and set off from there on a VERY long walk.  Where we were headed? About 160 miles due north (as the crow flies...not as we ended up walking it) to the Iwo Jima memorial in Washington D.C.  It had never been done and with good reason.  It was not easy.  It was not comfortable.  It was not without hurdles.

We walked.  We walked for 86 hours.  We slept on the side of a highway, in Susquehanna State Park, on the table at a bar, in the sun at Patapsco State park.  We showered no place.  We ate EVERYTHING.  We walked.  We drank beer along the way.  We told stories.  We walked.  We inherited inside jokes "KATYMCCABE", "CHAP UP",  "JUST 1 more click", "NO, we are still in PA",  and more I'm sure that I can't think of right at this moment.  We were delirious.  We were in danger sometimes.  We were egged.  We were supported and rooted for and applauded along the way.  We were encouraged and we were motivated and we walked. 

We put in a lot of work.  We had the thankless support of Phil the whole way.  We didn't thank him enough for what he did and no one will ever truly understand how important a good support crew is unless they have had to completely rely on them.   Keith wasn't thanked enough either.  The logistics of an event like that are daunting and difficult and he pulled it together. 

NO one really knows why we did it except for us and we are all OK with that.  It was crazy but that awesome kind of crazy that people will be impressed by.  That's not what drove anyone.  Everyone had reasons but most were the same to say they had done what no one had done before in commemoration of the birth of an institution that is so very much a part of so many of us...and to in general be bad ass.

It was a good week...my feet will tell you otherwise, my sciatic nerve will agree with my feet.   But, as any of the guys can tell ya ...head phones and Volbeat will keep you moving despite the injuries, and nothing can stop awesome.  Tenacity keeps you moving.  Having the wherewithal to complete something you set out to complete despite every part of your body and mind wanting to stop.  They are good characteristics...just sayin'

Thanks for a good time guys...we you all again next time.

Happy Veterans day.

Grace...not Up in here.

why hello blog how have you been? I have been well thank you for asking.  I know it has been a hot minute since i wrote anything but i have been feeling exceptionally un-funny lately and i didn't want to bore people with subpar humor. 

I would like to let everyone know that I am at this moment sitting in my man chair, eating crab cakes and watching Ravens football...its like the perfect storm minus the Natty Boh and surrendering an unfortunate amount of money to state taxes...I'm home.

So, I'm not entirely sure who to blame or when it happened but as I am sure you have all noticed Zombies are the new Vampire.  They are quite "in" it seems.  Call of Duty, movies, TV shows and now obstacle races.   I participated in the Run for Your Life race this weekend in Darlington.  I dressed like a zombie and chased people around while they tried to arm bar me and poke me in the eye and break my fingers...it was the danger zone for sure and NOT for the runners.  Now...I say "participated" in lieu of "ran" because it turns out as Sarah, Loo and now half of the zombie community now knows...I fall when i run outside.

You know what's worse than falling in the middle of a race where you at the time one of the lead females in your heat?  Falling in the middle of a race where you are one of the lead females while covered in fake blood and rocking a zombie-hawk.  Nothing like making a fool out of yourself while looking rad.  I knew it was bad when the other racers would run by me and see the golf ball knot on my ankle and exclaim "HOLY F*** THATS BROKEN!!!" thanks for the vote of confidence ladies and gents how's about lying to me and telling me I'm pretty and its just a bump.  That's what my REAL friends would do...just saying. 

The ridiculous thing is i fell because I was reading a sign.  That's right I looked over to read a sign that simply read "cold?wet?" and down I went.  It wasn't pretty and it CERTAINLY wans't graceful.  I'd LIKE to think that I run like some kind of elegant gazelle but in reality it more resembles one of those dogs that grew too fast and has no idea how long his legs are or how big his feet have become. I take my eyes off the ground for ONE effing second and look what happens.  I have written a few times about my inherent ability to walk blindly into stationary equipment, walk literally though closed screen doors and on one occasion after my senior prom walking face first into a glass sliding door so hard that i actually woke people up.  I am quite aware that if i stop for ONE moment to look away from the path i am taking disaster will ensue.

So needless to say I cant do a WHOLE lot of anything right now...I'm pretty pissy about it and have chosen to take it out on my satellite training crew out in Washington state (I am taking suggestions for their group name).  They are headed up by my bestie and they are taking the brunt of my hobbling.  I'm pretty sure that after today's WOD they aren't going to talk to me for awhile as Sarah has YET to reply to my last message and that just DOESNT happen.  I will say that I'm ubes proud of all of them and plan on writing about their successes here soon as soon as i get all the deets from them.  Until them I will jstu make super sure that they hate me for about an hour everyday but heart me each morning when they wake up all sexy and stuff. 

She loves me...She loves me not....

So there are a few prices that have to be paid for being considered a TRULY good friend of mine.  Those of you who are in that circle know who you are.  You know about the crazy you know about the dumb ideas and the repeated offenses.  I look at it like national security.  Not EVERYONE knows everything but more so I keep things compartmentalized so that in the case of compromise (tequila)  my whole psychosis is not revealed.  There are a SELECT few who are privy to all the deets...they know who they are and they ain't talkin' so I'm good.

So as I said, the down side to knowing all the drama that is Katya is that you unknowingly agreed to a non disclosure agreement that allows ME to disclose things that you say but not the other way around...sorry it's the rules, you were read in and you signed the indoc paperwork...you're bound...shut your mouth.

That little soliloquy was in its own way my " I'm sorry but you KNEW it was coming and you're about to get called out" to a Ms Sarah Beth Jett and Co.. 

Now as this is MY blog, and we have already covered the cemented fact that I am in fact QUITE self involved, I will play it off as if I am writing about the successes of other people but I will in fact be highlighting  my own bad-assery.  Consider that your warning order.

As you all may or may not know Sarah is my bestie.  We have been through pretty much everything two people can go through together.  We have served our country together.  We have been to war together.  We have loathed one another while being forced to sleep in bunk beds together.  I am proud to say I am the only bridge she has rebuilt and I'm not even sure how we did it.  We got divorced together .  We fall together.  We laugh, she makes me cry, she keeps me still.  She gave birth to my godson.  She is who I am.    ALL that being said I have the esteemed pleasure of causing her immense pain on a daily basis...let me explain.

Sarah had my god son a little over a year ago.  She enlisted my help...uh...eff...how long ago now Sarah??? 6 months? has it been that long yet? Anyways she enlisted my help, we shall say 6 months ago, to help her get back into shape.  OH it's important to mention that Sarah lives in Washington state....on the other side of the country.  I, on a daily basis, respond to the gchat message of "WOD ME BITCH" with some horrible nonsense that I conjure up in my head while  eating almonds at my desk.  USUALLY it is really brutal ...SOMETIMES it's the tiniest bit funsies...MOST of the time she replies with "I hate you so much right now" but ALWAYS it's in her best interests.

It worked.  WHATEVER the hell I tell her to do not only does she complain about it (and get punished for complaining by having to do burpees) but she FINISHES it.  She performs the Katya death WODs at the gym in her office on her lunch break with a few guys who also work with her. 


She reported these results to me:

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK I deleted it!!!! UGGGGGGGG I will try to gist it.  She MADE me promise I wouldn't blog about it but whatever shut up what are you going to do Sarah DE-friend me...I EFFING dare you.  The gist is:  all her jeans are HUGE on her,  her LULU has gotten baggy.  She hits new PR's weekly.  She is stronger , faster, better and  healthier.  The dude she works out with has lost like 40# and she likes being on top again...BOOM!!!

I'd say all in all EFFING success story.  TO my point: NO I'm NOT really trying to highlight that I'm some amazing trainer coach person despite the fact and she can attest, I have coached her via video chat and really garbled emails on proper form and technique through this whole thing...sending her YouTube videos and trying my best to explain where the bar is SUPPOSED to land on a hang clean...not on your clavicle but on your front delts...But no...I'm not trying to brag.  This shit is possible.  I didn't REALLY DO anything.  She did all the work.  Every ounce of praise goes to her.  SHE did it not me.  She is effing solid proof that  if you want  to accomplish something as EASY as physical transformation...because regardless of what all of you think...it IS fucking easy you just have to WANT it...you are more than able to do just that.  Sarah is a full time mother, full time fiancée, full time employee and full time Katya downward spiral recovery specialist.  Chicks plate is full.  She is running her first 5k obstacle run tomorrow (today) and I couldn't be prouder of what SHE has done. 

I love you Sarah.  I know we don't talk on the phone unless in dire straits or speeding nor do we actually SAY how important we are to one another.  It's one of the things I love best about you you just know.  You JUST know that you are exactly who I want to be when I grow up and you keep me tied together ... all my crazy bits.  Slaughter some slop tomorrow make me prouder if that's possible.

Love,

Katya

Un-Natural Born Athlete

I realized that I never posted this on this blog page...and AS the soliloquy that gave birth to its name-sake, it PROBS should be on here somewhere.  Most of you have already read this so you are under no obligation to read it again.  This is strictly for continuity.

Listen…I am NOT a natural born athlete.  I am not one of those people to whom physicality comes naturally.  You can certainly ask anyone who has seen me do anything for the first time to verify that fact.  Ask ANYONE who has seen me on a step mill EVER. Not once have I step milled (yup it’s a verb) and NOT tripped or caught my big floppy toe.  Ask any of the people who have seen me run into any of the various obtrusive pieces of stationary globo gym equipment while just walking to the water fountain…like the BIG stuff the hammer strength stuff that doesn’t move.  Ask Jake or Alan, who witnessed me max out my vertical jump that one time, how un-graceful and un-poetic each attempt was.  I am not a natural born athlete.  I thought about it once, (I think…only once because I tend to ruminate a little SHOCKING) my short comings, and I felt that over thinking this one would more than likely force me into another genre of habitual past times like collecting beanie babies or something far more mundane and sedimentary and less well…dangerous…and I came to a clear realization.

I’m not a natural born athlete.  I was born to be heavy, I was born to be slow, I was born to procrastinate, and I was born to under achieve or get by on the bare minimum.  I know that.  I have been in my head and I have seen my own habits and bore witness to my own methods.  I am not a natural born athlete.  Everything I do is hard for me.  Every time I run I’m taxed.  Every time I swing a kettle-bell, power clean 155#, walk up walls, pull up, push down, jump over…it’s difficult and I want to stop.  I am not a natural born athlete.  I beat myself mentally before I start.  I think of ways to give up mid stride.  I don’t see progression.  I have to practice.  I have to fail…a LOT.  I have to do things over and over and over and over.  I have to drag myself sometimes…most times.  I get angry with myself multiple times in every workout.   I am not a natural born athlete.  I know I have limits I face them daily.  I know that when I get home today and strap on my pack that it’s going to hurt and its going to wear on me and I will struggle up hills and over rocks.  I am not a natural born athlete.  I am not particularly good at anything but I do all of these things despite how familiar I am with just that fact.  I am not a natural born athlete, but I disregard that handicap I perform as best as I can…that’s, I guess, what makes me an athlete.

I JUST Hate Cardio is All

I have to tell you people this story...it is MORE than likely MUCH funnier to me than anyone, but I'm going to make you all read about it anyways.  Do you like how I think that people hang on my every word? It's simply is just NOT possible that you open this link, read four to five words, realize I'm boring and close it. I am under the great delusion that EVERY word is read digested, marinated , absorbed and reflected upon...I SOOOO like myself huh....ANYWAYS to my point.

It was brought to my attention, through a series of events, that I have some REALLY bad habits.  I mean...we all do but mine are kind of bad; not heroine bad, but bad.  I over use the punctuation "..." I do know that's a bad habit but I take a lot of pauses when I speak so in my head, because I type how I speak (people can attest to that) I type out the necessary breaks.  Another bad habit I have is wearing my emotions on my face.  I have been told for years that I do this and up until this day have stood firmly behind the defense that wearing my emotions on my face is actually a good thing.  How else will people know that I am annoyed by them?  How else will people know that I am angry with them?  How else will people know that I am waiting for them to finish doing bicep curls on the squat rack.  This theory was shattered to bit and pieces today. 

I walk on the SM wearing a 50# weighted vest..  Most of you know that.  Those who don't well now you are aware.  It's terrible.  It never gets any easier which is weird.  It always hurts and it takes FOREVER.  Today there was a woman on the SM next to me..well two down from me texting and stepping away.  I people watch to distract myself from physical suck so I watched her and some other women on elliptical and TMs.  When SM chick was done I watched her get down wipe off her machine and trot off to lady land to do whatever ladies do at the gym.  No bigs right?

Later after I had been thoroughly disrespected by my warm up I was talking to a beef brain I had met and he said to me "Not to be rude but can I ask you a question?" (OH how I love things that start out with "not to be rude", "don't get offended",  "this is going to come out wrong",  "we are out of asparagus") "Sure" was my tentative response..."what did that woman in the purple leggings do to make you so angry?" I stopped stunned and confused...I had no idea what he was talking about and explained this to him "the woman on the SM near you...you stared at her when she got off as if you wanted to pull her arms off and feed them to her kids" (ok so he just said I looked like I wanted to rip her arms off but I reserve the right to elaborate for effectiveness)  I explained to him what again has always been my response when people tell me I look angry all the time that:  "It's just what I look like I get it from my dad".  After we were done I thought about it.  I put myself back at the time of her dismount and I had the sudden realization that at that moment I WAS in fact very angry with her.  That skunt was DONE and I was NOT...I realize that I have CONSTANT end time envy when I do cardio stuff.  I have so much disdain for the practice that whenever I watch someone finish up I am completely jealous...but like that CRAZY kind that makes you want to hurt them, and as stated earlier I wear my emotions on my face. 

I would like to express my deepest and sincerest apologies to anyone who thinks or is afraid that I am going to follow them out to their car and break their legs.  That is in fact not at all what is going on in my head...I just hate cardio is all.

Way to Think That Through

So as some of you may or may not know I had to make a major life change recently.  Again some of you know why some don't and well...meh...my blog I don't have to tell ya if I don't want to and I don't want to so BOOM!!

I was forced against my will and the will of my Diabla to change globo gyms.  Yes I could have driven 2 hours a day one way to continue to be a member of S&H (which by the way I never cancelled my membership...hey Amanda...take care of that thanks ;)) but it's NOT really conducive to me or the recession..or the environment.

I am a new member of a little gym known in the area as Lifetime fitness.  It was pretty much the only choice I had, according to everyone, and I REALLY didn't feel like doing too much research so I went with the gen pop recommendation.

I need to address a few things to Lifetime Fitness who from here forward will be known as Globo the Remix. 

                #1.  Thank you for having an Aveda spa in your facility.  This will make it not hard at all to go oly lift my face off instead of getting a pedicure...way to think that one through.

                #2.  Why is there a water slide in here?  No really...why?

                #3.  While I understand that this is a family establishment if you could PLEASE refrain from hosting children's birthday parties in the room that is DIRECTLY next to the squat rack while I am power clean and pressing.  Here is the issue.  I get REALLY distracted REALLY easily and when I see little faces staring at me (and their dads) through the glass doors I forget to roll my shoulders and the bar lands on my clavicle and I blame them...the wee ones.  Also, 135# is kind of a lot to hold over your head and if you choose at the EXACT moment that I get it over my head to march the minions through THE WEIGHT LIFTING AREA I cannot be held responsible for their safety.  It's a dangerous thing tossing steel and let's face it if they spook me and danger ensues guess whose physical safety I am going to be more concerned with.  I revert back to my FIRST blog for those of you who are having trouble answering this question...I AM SELF INVOLVED.  If a human in training startles me and I dump...I'm dumping forward cause that's what you're supposed to do so watch out little Billy.  Don't worry you're young you heal quickly.

                #4.  I am going to be here a lot ladies and gentlemen and yes I will be upside down a lot so just get used to it...get use to it faster.

                #5.  I will end this rant on a positive note.  Bravo on the eye candy Globo the Remix...bravo.

GORUCK Yourself!

Once again I'm starting a blog out with "Where do I begin" (OK well technically I guess I started this blog out with "once again I'm starting a blog out with "where do I begin" but you all get my point).

This weekend as you all may know was the 10 year anniversary of the attacks on our nation that took place on Sept 11.  I, along with MANY others, chose to commemorate the day in the way we know best...self induced physical pain and mental anguish....YAY!!!!

The events of this weekend started out Friday where I, against her will, forced Mini Me to leave school at noon and sit trapped in my Jetta for 5 hours while we listened to the SAME songs on satellite radio (we can talk about THAT later)  and paid lots of tolls enroute to New York, New York.  Now I was excited to drag her along as she had never been to the big apple that never sleeps of lights and dreams...or whatever it's called,  and I was also excited to YET again force this poor minor to stay up all night in the cold and watch/document me doing stuff.  We ALMOST got her in to participate but alas she is too young and I'm not her parent (yet) so I couldn't say it was OK for her to sign a death waiver...Deb, MMKN we need to make me a legal guardian so I can start putting her in some REAL danger?

We arrived, made it up to the apartment, got settled in and were on our way.  The PLAN was to hop on a subway and hear to the GORUCK Head Quarters for he fundraiser and to kick or the event.  What ACTUALLY happened was we walked a few blocks over to the subway paid like 10 bucks for  some cards to ride the train then couldn't figure out which one to get on so abandoned that plan and just got into a cab.   I made the fatal mistake of trying to tell the cabbie where to go and how to get there...not so much from my own knowledge I just read him the text that my NYC native friend, Maurya, sent me.  OBVI this didn't make him happy and he took me his way, explaining to me the whole time how he knew where I needed to go and the best route to take and had he gone the way I wanted him to go it would have cost me much more money.  SO I thanked the defensive man tipped him well, got out of his cab and waved as he drove off PROBABLY laughing at the fact that he had just dropped me at the wrong spot and was internally amused thinking about what is was going to be like for me to try to figure out where the hell I was.   SO I dragged Mini around in some circles for a little while until MScan, via phone, talked me through the steps I needed to take to get to where I ACTUALLY wanted to be.  It was amazing..."put the sign for the Holland tunnel to your back and walk forward"  She told me that after she realized that asking me to walk south on Canal street was like asking me to invent carbon.  "Do you see a post office on your right? Cross the street.  Now cross to your left to the next corner.  PAUSE and make a 90degree turn to your right."  I did all of that and as if in the matrix there she stood...amazaballs.

We got to the GRHQ and I met with the illustrious team of dudes I would be challenging with the following evening.  Had some beers  donated some cash and we all left to get food and then sleep.  At that time of the night in NYC there is really only one genre of facility you can go to in order to get fed and that is a bar.  We handed off a fake ID to mini, made her memorize the dates and addresses on it and crossed our fingers.  Took a death cab over to the destination (Travie pointed out that you are paying the man to drive you around so getting your monies worth by near death crashes was all part of the ride) WE GOT IN!!!  We all ate, drank and planned the next day's activities.

Slept...awoke...left.  In order to not make this a novel I will skip menial details about strangers in NY that talked to us and serenades from crazies on the subway.   I will just say Mini got the full NYC experience.  FF to 7pm we made it back to GRHQ and got ready for our class to kick off.   We got pushed to the right a little and didn't end up leaving until midnight but I was OK with that.  We became the last class to run the challenge, class 063.

Now...here is where things start to get a little hairy.  One of the fall backs of participating in events such as the Death  Race and the Beast and the GORUCK Challenge is...you can't really effectively describe it to "civvies".  I can write that as a group we conducted a  few hours of Indian runs and inch worm pushups, bear crawls.  I can tell you with words that we arrived in Washington Park on the NYU campus at 1am where we did walking lunges for 2 hours all while being verbally and physically accosted by the locals and carrying packs with bricks and random other "coupons " donated by our cadre.   I can write that we were presented with a log that weighed no less than 1000# and told that we had to take it back to where it came from...which was in Brooklyn. 

• Go ahead and Google the distance from 385 Broadway to Brooklyn...I'll wait.

 I can WRITE that after carrying that mother for 4 hours and 20 minutes to the banks of the East River, we were told to get on line and walk into the water, sit down and do flutter kicks.  OBVI we didn't do this synced so we had to do it again.  Then we were lead out of the water where we were lined back up and sent off on our way back across the BK bridge buddy carry style. 

•  I would like to stop here for a moment and mention that I puked on the BK bridge.  Actually I puked off of the SIDE of the BK bridge onto a cab.  Thats what happens when you get carried for a while after you just ate some shock blocks and granola. 

 

I can also write that once we got to the skyline where the ghosts of the Twin Towers  stood we all stopped surrounded by what had turned into a police escort, and took a moment to realize that at that moment is was 9am on Sept 11th exactly 10 years after that history changing day.  I can write about the tears and the feelings and the sobriety of that moment.  I can write what it was like to run the rest of the way back to Manhattan, to a statue where we were lined up after 11 hours and were told that our final task was to hug one another and realize what we had all just been through together.  I could write eloquent, descriptive poems about all of it...but unless you were there you won't fully understand what it was like.  You won't understand because I CAN'T  write what amazing feels like. I CAN't write what the faces i saw looked like.  I CAN'T write what "worth it 10 fold" feels like as I try to negotiate stairs and chairs today.  I can't write it, sorry...I guess you had to be there.

To the 343...don't worry we will never forget.

Please don't anyone ever strike me with lightening....

So I have been sitting here thinking about my calibrated ladder of measure. I honestly don’t even know if when I put those three words together they mean what I want them to mean but as a few of you are lucky enough to know....I do what I want and it’s my blog so you all will take it as I intend it.   I have recently become a little concerned about this calibrated ladder of measure that I have committed to memory, have used habitually and developed over the years.   I got really scared when I realized how much I depend on my ability to eyeball ¼ cup of uncooked steel cut oats, 12g worth of protein from chicken/egg whites, the amount of lotion required to properly moisturize my right and left leg.  What if something happened to my brain?  What if my calibrated ladder of measure got skewed...what the crap would become of me?

I realized that I measure a great many things throughout my day.  It turns out that I measure more things than I actually realized (OMG I’m watching Marley and me alone WHY DIDNT ANYONE TELL ME!!) I measure food,  drinks, laundry detergent, weights, shampoo, face soap, dog food, cat food, time, distance, toothpaste, grapes, height, coffee mate, almonds...EVERYTHING.  I am worried about what would happen if my internal calibrated ladder system of measurement (I reserve the right to change what I call it at will) got UN calibrated...what the crap would happen to my day?  What would happen if I woke up and ate 225# of oatmeal topped with a gallon of Greek yogurt and then later went to the globo, walked back into the man cave and loaded 6oz of weights on a bar and started dead lifting it but only once.  I mean...if instead of the palm sized dollop of shampoo that I automatically know to use I pour a comparable amount to laundry detergent.  I put a lot of trust in my internal calibrated ladder of measure and let’s face it I ran my car into my mail box twice pulling out of my driveway (geezus this movie is almost over I need hugs) so how much can I really be trusted to keep ish straight in my head and for how long?  What if I get struck by lightning and started running for 20 feet and doing walking lunges for a 5K…things would get really serious really fast.

There are times…sometimes… when I DO ignore my calibrated ladder of measure and I eat three bags of grapes in two days, but it’s intentional and it’s because no one is watching me and I answer to no one.  There HAVE been instances where my memorized measure for the appropriate amount of coffee mate that needs to be added to my coffee has MAYBE been a little over weight due to a system reboot or some…we will call it memory overload that itself may have been brought on by a mis-measure of pinot noir the evening before BUT … no system is perfect and there are always glitches; which brings me to my concern. 

I am going to ask that maybe just check in on me every now and again to make sure I haven’t gone ahead and fed Larry six individual pieces of dog food and eaten 2 cups of almonds.  If you DO see something like that go down…take me to the hospital as I have suffered head injury or was struck by lightning…thank you in advance for your time.




WOD ON!!!:




75 double unders

KBS (1.5/2POOD)/Burpees

20/2

18/4

16/6

14/8

12/10

10/12

8/14

6/16

4/18

2/20

75 double unders

THEN

4 max rounds of pull ups because your grip will be AWESOME by then 

*******TIP OF THE DAY***********

Have I already don’t the crock pot oatmeal tip? If I have eff off read it again.

In a crock pot measure out ¼ a cup of steel cut oats for each day of the week.  Add Chia seeds and water (twice as much water as content) and crock on high until done, portion into 7 tupper-ware containers and put in the fridge…BOOM breakfast for the week was made in 45 minutes.  You’re welcome.

Oh America...your Social networking amuses me....

HOLY effing ess my body hates me...or MMKN I hate my body I haven’t quite decided.  I was forced, due to Mother Nature’s sense of humor, to spend a lot time on my mountain bike this weekend.  I no longer have a drive way.  It is a burial ground for dead trees and leaves and branches and I can’t WAIT to pop a tire on a GIANT log that hasn't quite been cleared all the way from my drive path.  In my infinite...yes it is in fact infinite ask around people can confirm...I didn’t feel like making an effort to find my padded shorts so I decided that I would be fine "free balling" (technical term) it.  well ladies and gentlemen let me advise you...if you would like your lady parts to cooperate with you the following day...make the effort...find the damned padded shorts.  I believe in total I rode 600 miles this weekend give or take a mile or two.  Distance can’t be measured exactly when you’re as good at riding as I am...I mean to be able to take into account all the distance skipped while I’m flailing through the air in a terrified fury.  You also have to attempt to subtract the distance that is covered twice...once in the FIRST go at a climb or steep hill then after I fall off and have to walk my bike up again...it’s like double jeopardy...that distance only counts once.  Another thing that is less than genius that I realize I do is when I bail from my bike, I jump off the back (nope I sure don’t clip in I’m terrified of being attached to my death machine!!) and the death pedals hit me in the back of my legs so I walk around PREEEEETTY much looking like someone that doesn’t like me has been hitting me with sticks.  I tell ya what tho…biking whips my$$ every time. You want to hurt your heart and seriously make yourself feel like the least in shape person around…go get on a mountain bike…unless you’re really good at mountain biking then go run a half mary.

Now onto more interesting / personal things….I took a trip to the GYN yesterday evening HOORAY!!!! Aren’t you glad you read my blog??? Some of you received the text with the rapport between myself and the doc when I first got there…I won’t be so brazen as to put that on the internet, but let it be known that I forget people don’t know my nor my humor so where as I thought it was hilarious…the doc did not find me amusing and I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m a lady of the evening.   As I was sitting there in my awesome gown I saw a poster on the wall asking me to “like” the clinic on Facebook.  WHY ON EARTH would I want to “like” my gynecologist on Facebook…of what social use is that to me?  How does that benefit my inter personal relations “OMG LOL you like women’s health center of Stafford ME TOO!!!!! Doesn’t Dr. Ottman have the warmest hands!!!” get outta here with that noise. 

Today I have a dastardly plan…its really early so at this juncture I still have the energy to complete it but I can almost bank on the fact that TCAC will de-motivate me and once again force to have the Devil hold my car keys hostage until I do all of my workout but here it is:

RUN!!! 5 miles

(Sorry Sarah I did NOT do the smoking gun yesterday as I was a lazy pants)

7 rounds of:

4 burpee dead lift, 3 burpee hang cleans, 2 burpee squat cleans, 1 burpee squat clean and jerk

TRX wall walks…oh that’s right things just got real…REAL stupid!!! We thought regular wall walks were a biya wait until you take the stability out of the picture…sorry Globs I’m puking today!!!

Death by Kettle bells…warrior snatches!!!! AMSAP (as many swings as possible) every 1 seconds for 5 minutes…15 secs on 15 secs off.

I am formerly requesting that you all go on my Mini’s FB page and tell her how awesome she did this weekend.  She competed in her VERY first CF competition and not only did she LOOK bad-ass she did amazing!!! I’ve never been prouder of someone I have ABSO no blood ties to...that little chick makes me effing :D.

*********TIP O THE DAY************

Coconut milk in coffee…look into it…I mean…I am addicted to powdered Coffee Mate so I won’t be taking my own advice but ya know…its looks good on paper if I promote healthy substitutions.

The Devil Wears Pink

So I made a deal with the devil this afternoon.  The devil happens to be this incredibly hot red head-ed number (no I'm not homosexual she's just way hot) who sells memberships at my globo.  She brought it to my attention, in a very pointed manner, that my blog breaks up the monotony of her day and I hadn't blogged in 6...no sorry I was corrected...SEVEN (you can't caps lock numbers so you have to type them out to get the emphatic effect) days .  I told her that I would write tonight.  She made me promise to follow through (apparently she knows about my affinity  for procrastination and aimless staring).  I agreed that if I did NOT in fact post something by COB today she was permitted no suspend my gym privies until I put words on paper...or screen...whatever.  So my hand was forced today lucky for you I have a few things I can think of to talk about.

First thing:  I, Katya J. McCabe, rode my very first full length Earth Rodeo this afternoon.   The VA area was hit with its, I am going to go ahead and claim this next statement as fact, FIRST ever earthquake.  In my OBVI well trained for such an event state, (while others ducked under desks and ran outside...not sure why they did that I think you are supposed to get in the tub or something) I simply put my food on the floor as I did not want it to spill.  In hind sight probs not the most effective course of action but we can all now see where my priorities lie in moments of danger.  My second instinct was to text the devil and ask her if the gym was being lame and closing to which she replied "Hell NO!" good answer Diabla good answer.

Second thing:  My work out today was aiiiiiiight...not as AMAZING as the one I had Sunday but Sunday was an exceptional day.   I was motivated by good old fashioned femme on femme competition Sunday and that can't be replicated on one's own.  There is nothing  like doing pull-ups in front of broads who look at you sideways  with an overly tanned faces that just SCREAM  "who does SHE think she is?".  Imma show you EXACTLY who I am honey.  Anyways...today was 50# vest on the SM then wall walks (10) hang cleans (10) one armed KB snatches (10 each arm) push press (10) X 5...and go.  Felt good shoulders were screaming at me which means it worked.  I had one of those workouts where there were new people in the gym and I could tell they were conversing about what the hell i was doing when performing the wall walks so I muted my iPod just to make sure.  Sure enough they were trying to figure out what body part was being exercised by walking on a wall...all of them gentlemen...all of them.

Third thing:  So I paid this chick to pour acid on my face today in hopes that it would make me look awesome...it worked I look REALLY awesome right now.  Tomorrow I will resemble a lizard and by Thursday my face will molt and I will scare children and democrats (who are we kidding I scare democrats daily) ahh the things that I do in order to refuse to age.   This ritual i kind of blame on my mom.  She got me started in this process the summer before 6th grade and well...I have been neurotic about my skin ever since...yea I know it sounds crazy to have your 12 year old get chemical peels but my mom is well...fancy.

************* tip o the day***********

if your big toenail has turned black and is about to fall off...sephora by OPI in "shopping frenzy" will cover that hot mess right up...ignore it and it will go away....until it falls off in your shoe.

AirForce 1...2...3...4....ok stop

I JUST DELETED THE WHOLE POST!!!!!! WHYYYYYYY this is not real...i had like 4 paragraphs composed and just LITERALLY turned all of the words into SIMPLY the letter "a" I hate technology and myself right now.

SO I was talking to my girl Margo the Great yesterday and I had thought of something to write about today that at the time I thought "I don’t need to write this idea down I will OBVI be able to remember it as it is genius."  I forgot what it was.

Well let’s see what can I talk about instead?

I supposed my workout will suffice.  I came across this WOD while looking for shirts the other day.  I realized Saturday, while trying to create a look for my evening outing with an old friend from DLI, that I had no normal clothes.  98% of my clothing has been engineered to  either: dry quickly with wicking, keep me cool, keep me warm, not bunch up, move well, move quickly, be breathable and all in all promote physical activity.  I realize that I dress constantly in preparation to be attacked...who wears ENGINEERED clothing. I needed to dress like a normal person and was at a loss.  SO I went online window shopping and stumbled on a WOD…I can’t focus on things for too long OBVI.

It’s called the “AirForceWOD” sounds easy enough I mean I was a marine I can do all things air force right? HAHAHAHAHAH riiiiiiiiiight this thing hurt my feelings and its still under debate as to whether I actually HAVE those things or not. 

With ONLY 65# complete the following for time:

20 thrusters

20 SDLHP

20 Front squats

20 OHS

20 Push Jerks

Every minute on the minute that it takes you to do this you have to do 4 burpees….which means  if you are doing your 20 thrusters and the clock hits 1:59 you had better drop and get your 4 burpees in…I am ALMOST positive that there was a point where the 4 burpees TOOK me a minute to complete.  I really sucked at this workout I have no idea why…I blame the fact that I ate a lot of banana bread on Sunday and didn’t drink enough water…it can’t POSSIBLY be that it was hard.

I made Sarah do it (I always make her do terrible things its payback for not running my life the way she is supposed to be) and she did an awesome job in 12 minutes.  Some dude in some video did it in less than 4 minutes and I wanted to smash his face in with my foot but again I think I was just jealous. 

Getting yourself back to where you want to be or where you “used” to be is SOOOO annoying.  Why am I not there already?  I have been working at it for 2 days, I should be as good as I once was by now.  I have no idea why it doesn’t work that way but I think, as an instant gratification kind of chick, I struggle with slow progression and building strength, endurance, flexibility and speed are 4 of the 5 hardest things in the world to build next to pyramids or maybe dams…I feel like dams are hard to build.

*********TIP OFTHE DAY*************

Spaghetti Squash….srsly look into it.  If you LOVE pasta but are aware of its impact on your glycemic levels then spaghetti squash is your friend…your BEST friend…like…the friend that will tell you when your hair looks ridiculous or there is something in your teeth.

Part Deux

OK…so where are we…did we make it to VT? If not let’s just say that we did.  The car ride was OBVI amazaballs as we had been drinking and commiseration is WAY funnier with beers than without.  I feel obligated to mention we did NOT have travelers and Margaret “hard to catch” Schlachter was as sober as Jesus on a Thursday.  Again there was singing and comedy at the expense of everyone else NOT in the Subaru and by the time we reached Killington we were ready to get settled and were QUICKLY reminded…OH yea we have a race tomorrow….SHIT… 

Before the race the Chicked Army, a group of founding bravo alpha femme bots from across this country and that one right above us, was required to arrive 2 hours before our heat to conduct really articulate and focused interviews.  I mean we did a really good job…I am completely positive I talked with my hands and evaded the questions but Logan knows that’s how I roll. 

Did I mention how REALLY prepared we were? Knowing full well we were going to be on the run for 4-6 hours we brought with us no food, no water, no electrolytes, no gum, nada.  No one has EVER accused me of being smart.  They racers were called to the start and the minutes counted down…the PFT stomach cramps (Sarah knows what I’m talking about) were in FULL effect and the countdown to start sounded off. 

In my head as USUAL I was thinking “I mean really how hard can this ACTUALLY BE…I mean I have been to war and shit I’m like tough or something I have choked full grown men out in bars in Carlsbad before defending my friends honor..What’s a little jog up a hill?”  Those of you who followed my Death Race training blog know that I am not smart and I do DUMB things on the regular.  Uhhh….so off we went…at a 38.5% incline for about a mile to reach 4668ft elevation.  I have been told that I wear my emotions on my face and Carrie later told me that my face was saying “Get the F*** out of my FACE with this!” (there is a chick walking in front of my window and her calves are bigger than her quads…its weird)

This race was EPIC to say the least.  The first few miles were tough and really set the tone for the rest of the race.  Once we had gotten through the first three miles Adams says to the rest of the group “So we are committed now to finishing!”  Eff off Shawty I will quit at WILL!  No one bosses me!!! We pushed through.  We OBVI sent MarShlac WELL on her way early at the start line, as she was our sleeper and we knew she was going to DISRESEPCT the mountain.  We each had our strengths and they complimented the weaknesses of the others.  Carrie is a mountain goat going downhill, Monica was a ghost in the water, Alyssa had a great running pace and I can carry heavy crap and climb things. 

Thanks to some well timed thermogenics the race seemed to get easier as we progressed and moved through the brush, carried sand bags, climbed ropes, swam lakes, pulled cinder blocks, balanced on stumps, hiked mountains…a lot, laughed,  bouldered, slid back down the mountains we hiked, jumped, cussed,  and basically traversed for 12 miles through the Green Mountains.  This was a GOOD race…I mean a DAMN GOOD RACE!  I would feel comfortable saying that if you took the Death Race and evaporated all the water and condensed it…you would have the Beast.

We crossed the finish line in the same manner as we left it 6 hours earlier…together. Be barricaded through Gladiators and cart wheeled across the line only to find out that our dark horse had in FACT done what we had expected and won third place over all for the women…EFFING A RIGHT MAR-MAR (yes I plan on changing her nick name every time I write it) She was amazing she worked hard and deserved that victory and we all deserved to celebrate her accomplishment…she stepped in that races business and hurt its feelings!

After the race we showered and went for dead cows and beers to pre-game for the evening celebration at pickles.  We got a little inebriated, told everyone the stories congratulated Schlach-take no shalack –ter, napped then headed out to meet the rest of the racers. 

People kept asking me to dance…Obviously these people are not smart nor had they run The Beast…again beer was present and good times were had.  Back to The Killington Mountain school (our residence for the weekend) to sleep and awaked 4 hours later to trek home.  A failed alarm clock caused our ride to be late and since we were on a VERY strict time schedule we had to motor so we poured into the Subaru and drove BACK to Redhook to retrieve the Jetta and drive like Ninjas the HELL out of there (undetected) WE MADE it back, I slept for 12 hours and don’t regret one second.  I wouldn’t change a THING about that weekend it was the perfect balance of calm amidst chaos and all of the chicked army demonstrated their ability to rise above the rubble and GET ISH DONE!!! Until next time ladies…see you are the Super!!!

FIN

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly part 1

So I realize that I have been neglecting my blog but it has been for a REALLY good reason.  I have been in a rando life rut the last two weeks but I am HERE to tell you…this weekend ripped me STRAIGHT out of it.  The following NOVEL will be a depiction (to my best recollection) of the events that took place this weekend.  You are to decide which parts are the good which are the bad and which are the ugly…

 Dude…I srsly have no idea where to begin with this weekend.  Carrie Adams (Ms Adams if you’re nasty) flew into my AO at approx. 7pm Thursday evening after a failed alarm (you will find that alarm clocks made valiant efforts to ruin our plans throughout the weekend but we prevailed…for the most part) had her miss her flight…yup things started out smoothly.  I conducted a smash and grab op from Reagan National Airport and we were on our way scarfing down ground turkey and spinach and spaghetti squash with a jar of almond butter in the Jetta speeding (safely?) up I95 en route to the BK.

The drive north went off without a hitch other than my lack of cash for ANY tolls on the NJT and the fact that I MAY or may not have had several moments where I wanted to JDAM the Holland Tunnel and all the people that had a blatant disregard for my personal safety and cared less that I have a concealed weapons permit and a Springfield XD .40 cal subcompact…just saying…

Carrie and I arrived at the bed down location of one Maurya Scanlon at approximately 11pm.  She lead us to our sleeping quarters for the evening and we debriefed, hot washed and conducted minor mission planning for the next day…then POOF we were asleep.

Again a failed alarm tried to cause Mscan to be late for work.  Luckily I have to pee a lot, all the time so I was awoken by my bladder with enough time to get her out of bed and ready for work on-time-ish.  A few hours later after figuring out how to create a coffee like beverage in the city apartment and making ourselves SOMEwhat presentable Carrie and I ventured out to South BK to visit Shane at CrossFit South Brooklyn.  Dude…I am here to tell you that guy is EFFING money.  We watched him conduct a private session with two women and I was thoroughly impressed with his patience and demeanor while training nugs…I have VERY little patience and I yell a lot … ask the Nicholsons they can confirm…ya know different strokes and all.  Shane was More than 
accommodating to us took us to lunch and tried to get us lost made jokes that we didn’t get and scared me a little when I tried to hug him goodbye…BUT I got a wicked awesome free tank top out of the deal so it was worth it. 


Then things got … complicated.  It SEEMED easy enough.  Let’s go to Trader Joes for road snacks so that Katya doesn’t get irrationally hungry on the trip to Killington…OH in case I forgot to mention…I went to Killington this weekend to run the Spartan Beast, a 12 mile race through the Green Mountains of Vermont as part of the Spartan Chicked Army.  I feel like I should have mentioned that at the beginning…I will get into greater detail on THAT a little later…first things first…let's GET to VT.  OK so what should have been a 3.2 mile drive from CF SBK to the Mecca that is T-Joes turned into a 50 minute crawl through Brooklyn traffic.  It also turned into the catalyst for my cemented decision that I will NEVER live in NYC or any burrow there of…DONE won’t happen don’t ask me again.  Once out of the 7^th layer of hell and back to Mscans pad, we all packed up, loaded up, and headed out.  I told Maurya that I was NOT going to drive until we were out of the city under the guise that IF I were to have to maneuver out of there I would in fact be forced to commit terror and I spend my entire adult life trying to PREVENT terror from occurring so…

So asleep I fell happily in the back seat of the Jetta amongst billowing brown paper T-Joe’s bags filled with bananas, dehydrated green beans, turkey, apples, almonds and granola.  I was a happy napper until I was jolted awake by the sudden slowing speeds of my TDI.  It appeared we had been traveling at the speed of sound for some time and the UpStaties no longer wished to turn a blind eye.  We were forced to the side of the road where all three of us lovely ladies put on our BEST “Oh its only 60mph here…tee hehe we are SOOOO sorry and so VERY cute officer…” HOLY eff it didn’t work not even a little bit.  Thanks to my expired registration and MScans Rearden Metal foot we were instructed to pull to the park and ride, park and no longer ride.  We were told but officer “Doesn’t think we are funny” that id he caught us driving we were donsies.  We had a few moments of panic but Margaret Schlachter being the AMAZABALLS team manager that she is came to our rescue…it just took her 3 hours to make the drive…wha wha whaaaaaa.  SO what did we do you ask? Solicit strangers for a ride to the liqu to purchase coffee and Heinekens…because that’s the best thing to do before a WHORE-id race.  The lovely officer “I was picked on in high school and now wield EVERY ounce of power I have at my will” came and checked on us 4 times.  During this time we ate, drank, were merry, practiced double unders, put on high heels, danced to loud music, sang Con Te Partiro and Jay-Z songs, lip synced to Heats’ “Alone”, cleaned out my car, waved to Officer “I never get blowies”, peed in the woods, bibbed, complained about being bloated, talked about boys, talked about girls, talked about the race, talked about how much we hate NY and waited on our savior.  TBC.