145 Days, 8 Hours and 25 Minutes

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.

Sparky and I pose for our article in the Tallahassee Democrat

Ricky is my training partner and companion Death Racer.


About Megan

I live and work with dogs in Tallahassee, Fl. My loves are in this order: 1. Dogs 2. Food 3. Coffee 4. Endurance Sports
This entry was posted in Death Race, Journal, Training and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to 145 Days, 8 Hours and 25 Minutes

  1. Laurel says:

    I am so proud of you guys!!

  2. dawn says:

    love it, megan.
    the most incongruous part for me is not the torture you are putting your tiny body through or the kindred over achieving friend you made in Ricky, but that you dared pose with, of all things, a KETTELBELL. that’s funny!!!!!!!

    what if the death race involves kb’s? be careful what you are afraid of!!!

  3. Megan says:

    Dawn, I know, right? But since our first Death Race workout was kettlebell carries for 3 hours, I thought it was fitting. As if I couldn’t dislike kettlebells more 😉

  4. Marissa says:

    Yayy! Can’t wait to read more 🙂 You guys rock!

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