That’s how long the timer says I have until I begin the Death Race in Pittsfield, Vermont.
But really, the countdown began last winter when I tried talking Ricky into a triathlon but came out $500 poorer as No. 18 on the list of 2011 Death Race participants. I had to sign a waiver that simply said: You may die. And actually, it didn’t even require a signature, just a check in a box. Reassuring.
So, since it’s been about half a year since I’ve DogBlogged, I’ve decided (with a tiny bit of encouragement from some friends) to turn this blog into a training journal.
I’m not going to go into too much detail here…we still have 5 months to get into the psychological roots of my madness but I will begin by giving you a sampling of my Sunday afternoon:
I met Ricky at Doak Campbell Stadium this afternoon at 2:00. He supplied the car tires and we proceeded to climb the stairs for 2 and 1/2 straight hours. The tires came with us: over shoulders, around waists, in over-head presses, resting on backs…basically any way you could think to get a tire up 84 steps over and over and over and over…at the end, Ricky looked at me and said that I looked like I got run over by a truck. Once I got home, I surveyed the impressive tire tread marks left on my shirt by Freddy (that’s the name I gave to my tire as we became very well acquainted).
The first hour was pretty tough. My legs became shaky to the point I didn’t think I could climb another step. I had to sing out loud to get my mind off the fact that I wasn’t even halfway done. And I questioned our sanity and our concept of the word “fun.” But, honestly, after an hour, though my legs were still tired, I got into a groove and just mechanically climbed and climbed and climbed. I don’t consider myself a super athlete, just a normal person that is interested in the limits of the body and the mind. As Ricky and I parted after the workout, I told him, “I don’t really like doing it, but I like knowing that I can do it.” So that’s where I leave you for the night. I’m going to do some stretching, eat a salad and hope that I’m able to walk in the morning.