Keeping A Badass Frame of Mind

Just when I thought I was badass, The Fight For Air Climb made me think again.

I knew it was going to be tough, but I didn’t think it would be so challenging. I thought I had trained for this. I was Rocky Balboa for about two months and I thought I was ready. I stormed bleachers and stairs and thought my Hulk Hogan-like quads were sculpted enough and ready to take on the 1,400 steps waiting for me.

Yeah … I thought. That was the problem right there …

I mean the morning started off all right, just a few jitters at the registration table.

 

My gear from the registration table.

 

But when I saw my t-shirt I laughed. I knew I was in the right place. I was still in my badass frame of mind. I mean you’d have to think you were a badass to climb this monster.

 

The Challenge. The AON Center. 63 stories and about 1,400 steps.

 

And so I remained in this state for most of the morning. However, I did have some help. The DJ pumped up the crowd with a few tunes and everyone was excited for the climb to start. Then I noticed the memory wall — names of people being honored during the climb — and I saw my dad’s name and it gave me an extra boost. It reminded me that this was more than just another BenGay moment.

 

The memory markers hanging near the starting line.

 

As I passed the memory wall I noticed a group of firefighters approaching.

 

Heading towards the front of the building.

 

I was like dude … did someone pass out already? But they seemed to be walking pretty slowly to be rapidly responding to a crisis.

 

The rest of the crew, getting geared up for the race.

 

No. No crisis. They happen to be walking to the starting line to join the multitude of elite climbers designated to go first. Apparently these firefighters were also participating in the race, however they were not wearing t-shirt, and shorts attire. They were in full-on firefighter gear. I really thought I was badass, but this … this seem to put me in the minor leagues. I couldn’t imagine climbing with all that extra weight. I could barely climb with an iPod. But I was here, and I was going to finish no matter what league I was in.

In truth, I thought I was going to do well. As always I watched clips from Miracle, Rudy, Remember the Titans, Hoosiers, Rocky, Glory Road, The Natural, Invincible, and Breaking Away. I listened to inspirational coach speeches. I thought I had prepared, both physically and mentally. I’m a nerd I always prepare. I reached the starting line, got the countdown, and took off.  I thought … I got this.

 

Standing at the starting line.

 

Uh … think again. When I reached the eighth floor. Something happened, and I had to think back to my training.

There I was in the outdoors storming the bleachers of the local high school and community college stadium, working up a sweat after about forty minutes and thinking … I can do this. But there was only one problem … I was outdoors, breathing fresh air.  Fresh being the key word here. So I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me earlier. I guess I should have known that fresh air, or fake air for that matter, does not circulate in skyscraper stairwells. It does not.

You know what does circulate?

Sweat, smell, and claustrophobia. Yeah … it spreads itself up and down those 63 stories, crop-dusting itself all over, in every nook and cranny. I couldn’t understand why my legs felt heavy after only twelve stories. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t storm these steps two at a time, like a real athlete, like I had during my training. I couldn’t understand why I got so tired so early and why my heart was beating so quickly.

And then it hit me. I was learning this lesson the hard way.

Oxygen. Pinche lack oxygen.

I was in the American Lung Association‘s Fight For Air Climb and I was literally fighting for air. This is when my fake running began. You know when you’re running at the park or track and you see some chick or dude half-assing it. They’re running in slow motion, it’s not even jogging. It’s slower than jogging, but they think they are actually sprinting because they’re pumping their arms and bobbing their head up and down. They’re going at the speed of walk. Yeah … that was me. I had become the half-ass chick because there was not enough oxygen and everyone around me was feeling it. We were in full-blown hypoxia mode.

Thank God they opened a few doors on various levels, and thank God for the high school volunteers trying to fan me with signs. That definitely helped boost my energy level a bit. And then just when I thought I was getting closer I looked up and saw the sign. I had barely cleared the 24th floor.

Holy crap. This climb was definitely going to kick my ass.

 

Most definitely.

 

But I didn’t want to stop, so I grabbed hold of the handrail and kept climbing. Once I hit the halfway mark I just stopped looking at the signs. I hated the fact that I was climbing so many steps only to realize that I had gone up a few flights. All I wanted to see was the 60th floor approaching, but I was so far off. This floor countdown was not cool,  so I just tried to avoid the signs.

But, did I make it to the top without crawling, without hanging on the stairs for dear life, or without throwing up like many of my fellow climbers?

Hell yes!

I rose to the top. I did it by any means necessary. Mostly jogging, the running had stopped at the eighth floor. But there was some dancing as I passed by my fellow climbers. I fought through the lack of oxygen and smelly hallways to finish in 87th place out of 350 chicks. It may not seem fantastic, but it was good for me.

So thank you Double Dutch Bus, thank you Mr. World Wide Pitbull Don’t Stop The Party, thank you Devil Went Down to Georgia, thank you Eye of The Tiger, thank you Michael Jackson’s Mama-Say-Mama-Sah Ma-Ma-Coo-Sah. You came through for me once I reached the 40th floor. But most of all thank you Tucanes de Tijiuana because La Chona helped me run my way to the top.

 

One of the views from the top.

63 Stories. 1,400 stairs. I clocked in at 18.41.

Surprisingly there was no BenGay this time, maybe it was because of the VIP sports massage I got after I finished the climb. However, there was plenty of ice for my weary 37-year old knees.

But the question remains … Still, badass?

Yes. Hell yes! Most definitely.

Now That The Flu is Gone, The BenGay Adventures Begin Again

The coughing. The aching. The overall feeling of crappiness that came with two weeks of the flu sidelined my athletic endeavors. No workouts. No biking. No running. No push-ups. No downward dogs. And the only stretching I did was for the remote control. For the most part, it was just a whole lot of nothing and with that I got thrown off the athletic wagon.

But I’m back.

Photo by James Hamilton.

I’ve been DayQuil and NyQuil free for three days, and I think my muscles are ready to attack my fat. It’s been building so this is going to be a battle considering my muscles have been on the bench and my fat became stronger. So I had to come back big. There was really no other way around it. And even though I still have a hatred for running unless there’s a purpose (you know I can’t run just for the sake of running) both of the challenges definitely involve running or at least a running motion. One is on wheels. The other is up stairs.

Now I never thought I would participate in something that would require a mouth guard and wrist guards. I don’t even know what wrist guards are, but I’m sure Sports Authority will … it’s like the mecca of sports equipment. And apparently I need both of them. I’m embarking on my first roller derby adventure this weekend and seeing how gravity is always trying to bring me down and cause chaos, I’m a little concerned about just getting on the track. I haven’t skated since elementary school, but I’m confident that my instructor Suzy Snakeyes will assist me in not being thrown over the rail accidentally or on purpose. I figure since it’s a beginning class that sort of thing happens until the third or fourth session. Stay tuned I’ll let you know how that little adventure panned out.

If I survive this session on wheels, I’ll move on to my other challenge. Something a little more daunting. I normally don’t use words like daunting, but for this it’s required. I won’t need a mouth guard or wrist guard for this one, but maybe I’ll need a Costco-sized amount of Ben Gay when I’m done. It’s called a climb, not so much a mountain or hill but more like 1,391 steps … 63 flights of stairs.

Now when I saw this online, I didn’t quite picture it in my head. All I thought was “sounds like a lot,” but I thought I’d be all right. I have BenGay and IcyHot. I’ve got my New Balance. I also got an iPod with plenty of tunes. I thought I’d be all right with that, but then I saw it. The building . I drove across the downtown skyline and saw it. I thought Holy Crap! This is not a building, it’s a skyscraper. I’m gonna need “Eye of The Tiger” blaring through my headphones if I’m gonna make it to the top of this one. How am I going to prepare for this monstrosity?

Fight For Air Climb

I mean what would posses me to take on such a challenge? Something new? Something different? Yes, and yes. But mainly it’s for my dad. It’s called the Fight for Air Climb and it’s sponsored by The American Lung Association. The climb helps raise funds for lung disease, and many of you know that my dad passed away almost two years ago from Interstitial Lung Disease. I think about him every day and thought this would be a great way to honor him … raising money for  research and helping to find a cure so nobody else’s dad passes away. So far my family and friends have been very supportive and Team Guat is on track to reaching its fundraising goal. I wasn’t aware of this race, but once I knew, I had to get involved. I think I might do this one every year, but stay tuned. It’s a pretty ginormous building, we’ll see how this turns out. I might have to buy more BenGay than anticipated. Do they make anything bigger than Costco size?

Even Though I Hate This Step It Gets Me One Step Closer.

Two miles. I’m up to two miles a day. Normally I would say, you’re out of your #$^&%@! mind to be running two miles a day. What’s a matter with you? You hate running. You hate it. But when it’s an integral part of a race, it kind of seems necessary. Essential even.

So it’s become part of my training regiment. A necessary evil. But that’s just me. There are hundreds of people who enjoy hitting the pavement at a brisk pace. Apparently some of my friends find it liberating. Rejuvenating. Calming. Stress relieving. A journey that clears your thoughts and centers your mind.

Image via Durtbagz.com

This does not happen to me.

Most people get to run in the morning. They wake up charged up and ready to go. However since my kids wake up at sunrise, and I’m not the greatest morning person, I’m never really in the wake up-charged up-ready to go kind of mood. I’m more in the holy-crap-I’m-exhausted-type-of mood.

I don’t get any “me” time until nine o’clock in the evening, when they’ve both gone to sleep for night.  So my runs happen at night. Not a good place to let your guard down and feel calm or relaxed. No rejuvenation going on here. Just paranoia. Most of the time you’re extremely aware of your surroundings, making sure nobody comes out of the bushes and tries to slash you. However I do get a couple of daylight workout hours during the weekend. But I prefer to bike on those days. Bikes and nighttime traffic don’t really mix.

So I try to liberate, rejuvenate, and calm myself by walking, swimming  or biking during weekend daylight hours.

Running. It’s not for everybody, but in my case it’s something that needs to be done. It’s step one on my path, a dreadful step one. But a very necessary one for success.

And for me, success in triathlons is the finish … making it to the finish. No need to be showboating and finish in first in the 35-40 chick category, the top three hundred is fine.

And what do I need to get there? Nonstop service from the starting line to the bike transition station. That’s the goal. So I’m just gonna cowboy up, lace up my shoes and hit the pavement. I dread thinking about it, even when I’m out the door I question myself. I question the insanity of running. But once I start, I keep going because I know it’s bringing me one step closer to my goal.

One step closer to not passing out when the running part is done. One step closer to not being that chick, you know, that chick that walks during the race.  One step closer … that idea is all it takes for me to keep running in the dark. Night after night I think “one step closer.” And if there’s chocolate waiting for me at the end … well then I’ll run a little faster. Incentives rock when you hate step one.

One step at a time. One pedal at a time. One splash at a time.

I fell off the wagon. But today was day one. I’m back. And no matter what happens on day two or day forty-five, today I was back on the wagon. I’m on a roll. Yeah one day can qualify as being on a roll. I’m building momentum, here.

What has brought me back to sports bras and New Balance running shoes? The athletic surge of energy I got from the Olympics? Probably.  Those inspirational VISA commercials by Morgan Freeman and wishing he was talking about me? Maybe. An athletic challenge that meets the crazy competitive sporting nature at my humble Guat athletic level? Yes. Most definitely.

A challenge.

A mini-triathlon challenge … this one by the beach.

Image via Durtbagz.com

That’s all it took. This is what had me lacing up my shoes at 9:30 p.m. on a Thursday night. After undergoing a very long day where my four-year old son suffered a 100+ fever and crazy mood swings once the Advil wore off, I decided to take it to the streets. I know most people think that days last 24 hours, but when you’re sick or your kid is sick and you wake up and 5:44 a.m., for some reason the day is much longer. Much. I think it’s the mood swings and all the patience that drained out of my body.

So once the moon came out and both kids went to sleep the training began. I told myself this is it. You hate running. I know you hate running. For me it’s a pointless exercise unless I’m being chased by some slasher.  But running is an essential part of a triathlon. So I didn’t mind it much. As long as the running serves a purpose in the end, I’m all good.

And let me just clarify that even though I’ve probably gained like ten pounds from eating all those different forms of chocolate — pies, rocky road ice cream, cake, KitKats — the purpose here is not weight loss. The purpose is being able to finish the triathlon and possibly improve on my last performance. The purpose is to get that cartwheel feeling of excitement in accomplishing something I think is pretty awesome. The purpose is to get back on the wagon and feel good about myself. I’m sure I’ll feel pretty spectacular once I’ve crossed the finish line.

I’ve got two months to train my Guat body into amateur triathlon form. Today I took my first step. I’m pretty excited about my start. I know I’ll probably fall off the wagon again, considering my lack of available babysitters and my ability to work out at all. But 9:30 p.m. seemed to work out all right tonight. But I’m hoping not to make that time slot a habit, considering that suspect characters like to commit criminal activity during these hours. And even though I grew up in the barrio and have plenty of street smarts, it’s good to avoid dark streets with no lights. Even if you are a brown belt and carry mace, the dark of night may not always be a good workout schedule.

But I can’t get discouraged for having only sixty days to train, knowing full well that I may miss a day or two. I must think more along the lines of quality workouts instead of quantity. Granted I need at least four days, but four quality sweat-busting days. The kind of days where I need Gatorade. Here comes The Guat … one step at a time, one pedal at a time, one splash at a time.

Giddy up!

I’ve Gone From Warrior to Tinman

After much searching I’ve found it. Something to bring me out of my Warrior Dash Withdrawal Funk. I mentioned it last month and now I’ve gone and did it. Another athletic adventure awaits me. I officially signed up. There’s no more thinking about it.

I wasn’t sure what else I could do to top my last adventure, because after all what can top the race with mud, sweat, obstacles, fire, and beer?

But the athlete in me needed a challenge. I couldn’t workout without any motivation, especially if it involved running. As I mentioned before, running without purpose is not for me. You know, running just for running sake? No, I need to be training for something … a race, or running away from a crazy criminal. So in an effort to remain semi-athletic, I searched for anything adventurous out there within the near future. Something out there for my Guat body to build up to, something needing glucosamine … and then I ran across this little triathlon. The Tinman.

Image via Durtbagz.com

I did it about six years ago, but I think I had more than two months back then to train … four months, no kids, and eight hours of sleep a night. Now … well now I’ve got gray hair, stress, and two extra human beings that need constant attention twenty hours a day. Well, my three-year old not so much. He sleeps at night. My ninth-month old, she extends my mom-shift well into the darkness of night and early morning. I work double shifts. I need a raise.

But regardless of my domestic engineering-motherly duties I’ve said it. It’s out in the open. Now that it’s out there in the blogosphere I must commit. The countdown is on. I got the bike out of storage, I washed my New Balance shoes, and I’m on a mission to find a urine free pool.

No obstacles this time, but there’s still a chance I could fall. It happens even when I walk. My only concern now, other than gravity working its magic, is velocity. How hard and fast can I fall from a bike? Fast enough that it would probably require an ambulance I imagine. But even with a helmet? Yeah, I’m sure it’ll hurt. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, I just need to be careful when going downhill. Maybe I’ll watch footage of the Tour de France or maybe I’ll watch Breaking Away again. Maybe I just need to get my ass on the bike and practice going down hills. Gotta cowboy up!

Either way The Guat is in training now. I’ve gone from Warrior to Tinman. I think Warrior sounds better. Nevertheless here I come. Giddy up!

Even Without a Cape … Guatemalan Warrior in the House!

My back aches, my shoulders hurt, my muscles feel sore, my feet are tired, my body is worn-out … but I feel good.

http://www.warriordash.com

Why?

I survived the Warrior Dash.

Despite the gloomy and drizzling weather, which doesn’t happen often in Southern California not even in winter, I made the two-hour drive to Warrior Dash Central. I was anxious, nervous, and filled with butterflies in my stomach.

Big Time Warriors

As I made my way from the parking lot to registration, I started to notice a pattern …

The Bear Naked Peeps

Dude. I felt something was missing. Something was not right with my t-shirt and shorts outfit … A superhero costume would have been more appropriate.

The Lumberjack Crew

I felt like the Lone Guat in a sea of costumes. There was a Superman family, Wonder Woman, Xena Princess Warrior Chicks, brightly colored fluorescent people with matching head bands, The Smurfs, Ghostbusters, The Bear Naked people, the barely naked people with matching Speedos, chicks with pink wigs, chicks with pink, green, and blue tutus, dudes with hazmat suits, and even dudes dressed up as chicks. It was like The Justice League reunion with a motley crew of party crashers, and I didn’t get invited.

My dude said … “I don’t think this is the kind of race you do alone … but at least you got a cheering section.”

My kids and dude made the trek.

So with my Guat-Mexican party of four I made my way to the starting line.

“Good luck, mom. Don’t go in the muddy water. Those people look yucky. Win the race!”

All I could think about was don’t fall. Don’t fall and finish.

“You’ll be fine. We’ll be waiting for you at the finish line.”

I walked over to the starting line and began my athletic ritual. Everyone has one before an event, consciously or unconsciously: stuff like, stretching out and counting to seven, but not eight; stretching out your left leg first; and doing your arm thing to loosen up.  Whatever the ritual may be every one was doing it. If you don’t have a ritual, you’re probably not a real athlete.

Ready, Set, Go!

As I stretched and did my routine, I looked around … the chicks and dudes with the 80s fluorescent leotards and matching headbands were in front of me and the Xena Warrior Princesses were next to me.  I was nervous. I felt like I needed a cape. I looked behind me … regular t-shirt and shorts people like myself were among the sea of costumes.

Countdown begins … 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.

I did the Sammy Sosa ritual move and took off.

With all that adrenaline I took off faster than usual, but kept my steady pace. As I reached the half-mile mark, I noticed all the costume people trailing off little by little. Xena Warrior Princesses probably fell on their swords or something because I didn’t see them at all.

There were no obstacles until after the half-mile mark and the first one being the Road Rage Tires.

I was like one of those state-champion double-dutch chicks. Dude. It was on! I made it through that obstacle pretty quickly. The only time I slowed down was when they triple stacked the tires.

Then came the Barricade Breakdown where I hurdled over barricades and crawled under barbed wire. I used my Dukes of Hazard jumping-over cars skills to jump the barricades that were chest high.

More running after that, where I continued passing costume after costume. The Justice League and the Smurfs were gone. My T-shirt and shorts people made their way to mile two and saw the rock-climbing wall. I was like Spider-Man as I scaled that thing up and over no problem. Sweet. Once I got to the top, I slid down the pole like a professional firefighter.

After mile two, the challenge hits you …  all the obstacles. They are spread out, but between mile two and the finish line I was huffing and puffing. That was my soundtrack, in surround sound, because everyone else was breathing heavily too.

My next obstacle was the one I feared. The Teetering Traverse. My heart was pounding and all I wanted to do was go fast, but I knew better.

I was causing traffic, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to eat it.

After conquering that bad boy, came the Horizontal Hike. This didn’t scare me when I saw the online description, but once I saw the arching geodome and all the cargo nets and pieces of wood I had to hold onto in order to cross over, I knew why there was a paramedic on standby. I made it through with only a couple of rope burns and scratches.

As I climbed up the ropes of my next obstacle, The Great Warrior Wall, I saw her behind me … struggling. It was Wonder Woman…she was not that wonderful at climbing ropes. So in my sportmanship-way I yelled at her:

“C’mon Wonder Woman…You can do it!!!”

She smiled and grabbed hold of the rope.

She must have done well because at the Chaotic Crossover, a series of tangled nets we had to cross over much like the horizontal hike but lower to the ground and with more opportunities to get snagged and left behind, I saw her causing traffic grabbing hold of the nets. She was spread out like a bad twister game. She lost her amazon bullet proof bracelets and golden tiara.

photo via warriordash.com

But she seemed to make it through, because I saw her again at Deadman’s Drop. I climbed this tall structure with extreme caution. Not one, but two paramedics were on site. The “unhandy hurdle” at the top was a bitch. So as I was moving slowly I saw Wonder Woman down at the bottom. I couldn’t let a chick like that beat me, so I pressed on and slid down the other side with caution. No splinters.

The Cargo Climb was tricky. Not only did I have to control my own balance, but I also I had to be aware of other people’s maneuvers. A foot here, or a hand there changed the way the ropes moved. Grabbing onto the wooden frame was also a bad idea as the rope trapped my fingers and crunched them when people pulled and tugged on the nets with all kinds of body parts. I was pretty tired by this point, but then I saw three 50+ year-old Ironman type of ladies pass me by … just jogging like they were beginning the race. All cool and under control.

Dude. The competitive side of me said, “C’mon now, you can’t let all these ladies pass you by, you’ve got to at least beat one of them.” So I got enough strength from who knows where and kept running to the next obstacle and beyond.

The Petrifying Plunge was a fun slip-n-slide. Most people went head-first. I preferred to go feet first, because I didn’t want my face to plunge into the murky cold waters below.

The Capsized Catamaran awaited me in the freezing waters. This obstacle killed me. It killed everyone. The water was about five-feet deep and you had to pull yourself up and over this plastic structure. Then plop back in the water, swim, or walk if you were tall enough, to the next plastic-up-and-over obstacle. However there was nothing you could push off of … it was pure upper body strength hauling your tired ass out of the water. Catamarans suck. This obstacle took me about fifteen minutes.

The water was so ice-cold and the chick and her dude in front of me were not climbing this thing fast enough. So even though I didn’t know her, I gave her a boost and pushed her up and over, so that I wouldn’t drown while treading water. However by the time I got to the second up and over, I struggled during the “up” part as did everyone else. Some racers gave up and swam to shore, including Wonder Woman, a big body-builder dude with a dragon tattoo, and even one of the Ironman 50+ ladies.

Me. I continued struggling. Then I found some chick wearing a Winnie the Pooh backpack who was struggling too, and said:  “Hey I’ll pull you up, if you push me up.”

Normally the backpack would have thrown me off, but as I was freezing and desperately wanting to finish this obstacle I tagged teamed with the Winnie the Pooh chick and we became the Wonder Twin Powers.

photo via warriordash.com

She pushed…I pulled.  Push and Pull. Repeat. We were a dynamic duo. However, on the last leg of this obstacle I pulled too much and I fell over into the water. But it’s not like I wasn’t wet so it didn’t matter. The wetter the better because The Warrior Roast was next. So I didn’t mind the fall.

As I made my way out of the water and up the hill, I tried to muster enough courage and energy for the fire. I was out of breath and needed to sprint in order to gain enough momentum to jump over these logs. Winnie the Pooh girl saw me hesitating and said “C’mon, you can do it.”

So I busted out my best hurdle-jumping ballerina leap and made it through unscathed. No firefighters or extinguishers needed.

Crawling through Muddy Mayhem

After that came the Muddy Mayhem, where we “scrambled” beneath barbed wire in muddy, rocky waters.

Everyone was dragging and hurting, but made their way to the finish line.

My shirt was wet, shorts drenched, and my New Balance shoes and socks were soaked.

Heading to the finish line

After crawling out of the final pit, I ran toward the archway. Not walked, but ran.

I didn’t need the cape. I was a Warrior.

What did I learn from this Warrior Dash Saga? Tune in tomorrow.

Warrior or Bust

Saturday is the Big Day …

http://www.warriordash.com

There are no half times.

There are no timeouts.

There are no cheerleaders.

There are no subs.

There will be sweat.

There will be mud.

There will be the sound of my heartbeat.

There will be Gatorade.

There will be guts. 

There will be words running through my head. These words:

 

It’s Warrior or Bust.

Tune in on Sunday to see the Warrior Dash Saga unfold.

 

My Warrior Update #8 … Surprises

How you gonna change on me? I’ve been mentally and physically preparing my muscles for these obstacles? I’ve been training them not to fall down certain ways, because you know I can fall all kinds of ways … it’s the Guat in me. And now, I’m going to have to retrain these Guat muscles. It’s not easy people. Gravity is a powerful thing and then you’re gonna throw in five new obstacles in the mix that gives gravity an even bigger advantage? I can only do so many push-ups and squats.  Let’s not get crazy. 

http://www.warriordash.com

But at least I’ve got about two more weeks. Warrior challenge indeed. The unexpected always happens. That’s a given … that happens all the time in every aspect of my life past and present … motherhood, sports writer, substitute teacher, designated driver, etc…. Expect the unexpected and then train like hell.

I’m glad I checked the Warrior Dash home page this week. Otherwise I would have been in for a surprise when I ran into the Road Rage, Vertical Limit, Barricade Breakdown, Great Warrior Wall, and Capsized Catamaran obstacles.

I think I’m gonna need more Glucosamine.

It seems that a few of them I can handle with ease. Road Rage has me “stampeding through a scrap yard of rusted wreckage.” I can stomp. I can climb cars. I can slide over the hoods. I’ve seen Dukes of Hazzard. This is one is not too bad.

In Vertical Limit I’m “scaling to the summit and sliding down the vertical drop.” I’m rock climbing basically. However, no harnesses or ropes attached to my body. But I’ve seen Sylvester Stallone‘s Cliffhanger…I’ll be fine. I’ve rock climbed before, so this one seems all right. I just need to remember to bring my Hapkido/Kung Fu grip so I don’t fall backwards. Thank God I don’t believe in manicures, I’ll be able to hold on tight without worrying about my Lee Press-On Nails.

 In Barricade Breakdown it’s pretty much hurdling over barricades and then trying not to breakdown as I crawl in the mud under barbed wire. I used to run hurdles in high schools. I know, I know with my falling record you would think, why? But sometimes you have to face fear head on. Did I fall? Plenty of times. Did I get back up? Yeah. I had to finish. So I’m no stranger to pain. Hurdling won’t be a problem. I didn’t break any school records, but I was a pretty quick Guat.

 The Great Warrior Wall seems like the Deadman’s Drop. Climbing a ginormous wooden barricade and then dropping or sliding down. I think they just put this one in so that your arms could feeeeeeeeeeeeeeel the burn as they hoist you and all your poundage up and over. I think I’m gonna drop and give myself 20 as soon as I finish this post. Just so my arms get used to feeling like jello after all the burn.

Last but not least is Capsized Catamaran. This one replaced a tall climb where waterfalls constantly splashed over you, like a hurricane. This substitution is unfortunate for me because the new challenge is a bitch.

I’m a little scared. It requires me to “swim, climb, stumble, and swim.” That’s a lot for one obstacle. And it’s the swimming. I’m not the best swimmer. I’m like my Dad … I’m a floater who splashes. The only way I can swim is the backstroke. When I did the triathlon I “backstroked” the entire swim. It’s the only way I made it, but this was in an Olympic-sized pool. The Warrior Dash will have murky waters and crowds of people rushing, swimming the normal way. I think I need to see where I’m going, can’t be swimming backwards. Maybe it won’t be a real swim, maybe I can tread water.

Definitely more Glucosamine needed … that and push-ups. 

Giddy up!

My Warrior Update #6

This is where my army or marine training would come in handy… if I had been an armed forces soldier. But I’m a writer. So I have to rely on my sad push-up regiment to help me conquer these Warrior Dash obstacles. You would think that the push-up would be easier by now and that I’d be doing five sets of twenty-five and be on the cover of Muscle and Fitness Magazine … but for some reason my weak left wrist begs to differ.

http://www.warriordash.com

It’s got a kink. According to WebMD I could have Carpal Tunnel Syndrome or Psoriatic Arthritis. But apparently some of my friends feel WebMD isn’t the most trustful, so I will need to get it checked out by a regular-in-office-white-coat MD. Until then I’ll probably rely on BenGay, a wrap of some sort. and ibuprofen.

What about climbing?

Don’t you need wrist action for the Deadman’s Drop and Giant Cliffhanger?

Not really. I’ll most likely need biceps and quads. With all my merengue and cumbia dancing my quads are awesome. They’ll be fine. It’s only when I’m doing push-ups that my wrist is not happy. So as long as I don’t have to drop down and give someone twenty, I think my wrist will survive. Maybe I’ll start lifting some barbells to ease my wrist push-up problem. Regardless, I’m sure I’ll need some wrist strength on these climbing escapades.

The Giant Cliffhanger allows me the opportunity to “trek to the top of a massive slope” using rope as my guide. So I am basically hoisting my entire body weight up, over, and down this man-made slope … something you would see in army training, I imagine. But as long as it’s not a timed event, I’m sure I can haul my butt awkwardly over this challenge.

In the Deadman’s Drop I will ”climb to the top and over an unhandy hurdle.” Safely… safely is the key word here. However, as you reach the top and climb over to the other side, the second part of this obstacle gives you two options: 1) go down a make-shift wooden slide where you may or may not get splinters on your ass or 2) jump the distance becoming the deadman that drops because you’re so tired, possibly twisting your ankle in the process.

Awesome choices … I know. I haven’t decided what I’ll do yet. Any suggestions?

I’m sure once I get up there my athlete instincts will kick in and I’ll make my decision on the spot, with confidence and without fear. Regular Guat Warrior, if you will.

Giddy up!

 

My Warrior Update #5

I’m not sure I can thoroughly prepare for this week’s obstacle. I mean I think I’m a little late on this one. I could have practiced when I was growing up at the neighborhood park, you know been like the other kids climbing that big geodome, but I wasn’t like anybody else …

http://www.warriordash.com

There was no climbing in my neighborhood unless it was over a fence and even then it had to be for a good reason i.e. ditching school, running away from a suspect element, or getting the last baseball that got grand-slammed over the neighbor’s house, a regular Sandlot moment. But see these were vertical climbs.

Leave it to The Warrior Dash to have something called The Horizontal Hike, where I am supposed to ”voyage over an arching obstruction”. Arching obstruction concerns me. Have you seen these geodomes in kiddie playgrounds? I was never one to climb those things. I was more of a baseball diamond chick, hoops b-baller lady, and volleyball Karch Kiraly/Sinjin Smith chica. I had no time to be falling through holes in playground climbing equipment. I fell on the field, much more dignified and athletic like.

I rock climbed a few times. I get a good grip, but once again — vertical. And incidentally it’s attached to a rock — a piece of Earth – and you’re attached to a harness and rope. Geodomes … no rock. No climbing equipment. Just a man-made wobbly structure made of metal, where I imagine if you slip, it might be painful. Metal, like wood, hurts and knowing my track record for being gravity challenged, I might need some ice packs and Ben Gay on demand.

But you never know, I could crawl over this thing like Spiderman and move on unscathed. It could happen. I got the power of positive thinking and visualization. It happens to golfers all the time. I just have to use this mentality while I’m out of breath, tired, weak-kneed, dripping of sweat, nervous, and prepared to “voyage” over an obstruction. Although adding some more push-ups to my workout couldn’t hurt.

Definitely possible. Dude … I’m an athlete. I drink Gatorade.