Why I kick my own ass sometimes

My entire body is stiff and achy, my knees are raw, hurt to touch and look like hamburger, and I just completed the most pathetic workout of my entire life because I’m a creature of habit that would rather go have the most pathetic workout of my entire life than not go to the gym at all.

All of these things, again.  Because this past weekend was the Spartan Sprint that I’ve now done three years in a row.

During this year’s race, I found myself walking an inordinate amount of the course, which made me feel a little panicked at the state of my physical preparation.  It was no secret that there were several new obstacles integrated into the course this year, none more arduous and physically taxing as the five-gallon bucket that runners had to fill entirely with gravel, and walk about the distance of a quarter of a mile up and down a hill, but the point remains, walking to me is supposed to be for the weak competitors, and running was supposed my greatest strength, my biggest asset, and my trump card to pass and overtake lesser competitors.

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