Today is the Warrior Dash and it’s my third and Husband’s fourth time doing it. I’m less excited because I’m tired but also feeling a bit anxious in my gut because I start a new job on Monday. Yep. Wow.
Anyhoo. I half expected Husband to bail this morning because he has aches and pains and he’s a man’s man, so he’s telling me all about them. In detail. Baby. Sore throat; sore something else; tired; painful wrist and probably something else. I’ve got a few things going on, too, but do you hear me boohooing? It all boils down to age. We’re old, closing in on 40. And I’ll reinforce that notion by adding that Husband realised one of his injuries post-coitus. So literally, fucking old.
It was a fun run and it was fun when it was over. I only bailed on one of the obstacles because I am afraid of heights and couldn’t reach the other side with my leg before pushing myself over, therefore I would have died. So I climbed back down and moved on. Kudos to me for climbing the bastard to begin with.
Beer, burgers and then naps for all and sundry after we got home and today, I don’t feel much the worse for wear except for runner’s thighs the morning after. All in all, a satisfactory way to flog myself with a smile on my face.