As I sit in an Epsom salt bath, the random musings of a brain on overdrive:
Grape Pedialyte is the bomb.
Ironic that this is my first “real” Spartan Race. (Death Race not included) Most people work up from a Sprint, I work down from the Death Race.
shorts, capris, or full length tights? Injinjis or smart wool?
Sesame Street band-aids make me so happy.
I should have taken tapering more seriously.
Tapering blows. I’m probably missing a great WOD tomorrow.
Why is my flight to Manchester so ungodly full tomorrow? Is all of Chicago going to the Beast?
How many times will I fall down the mountain?
Will Killington actually have any open restaurants by the time I finish?
Ford Focus or Chevy Impala tomorrow?
I should have done the Team Death Race.
It’ll be really weird to be in the Pittsfield area for something other than the Death Race.
I want beer. No, vodka.
My shower caddy is about to fall on me.
Do I have enough Gold Bond?
How do Epsom salt work, if they even do? This bath is making me hot.
I overpack like whoa
Where do you buy booze in New Hampshire? Can you buy it in grocery stores?
I should have tested my Camelbak before this. Whoops.
Where is my axe?
I’m back on the Sharkie wagon. Mmm Sharkies.
Large quantities of overhead squats yesterday were not a smart idea.
Are these phantom pains, or is my right calf really not doing well?
must. pack. Benadryl.
Living in Chicago has trained me perfectly for 20,000+ ft of elevation change. (love you step mill?)
No kayaks, please.
If anyone is still reading this, I’m severely judging you.
Candy corn-check. Milk Duds-check.
It’s like a family reunion, bitches!!
See all you crazies tomorrow night.