The Spartan Mudder

First, I am currently watching a movie called Sharknado 3.  I knew in my gut that this would be worse than anything I could imagine.  However I was not prepared for just how awful this movie is.  Mark Cuban just threw a hand grenade into the mouth of a flying, living shark.  In the White House.  Because he’s the president.

My trainer has taken to a unique new training method.  As mentioned in an earlier post he has recently directed me toward a series of online training manuals designed to help me further reach my goal of getting jacked and thus looking slightly less like an armadillo with a tire around his waist.  One of these training plans is geared toward me eventually running a Spartan Race.  The other is designed for those running the more exhilarating Tough Mudder race.  He (trainer) has run several of the latter.  Truthfully I don’t believe he actually thinks I can run a Mudder.  I say that because I know I’m not a runner, not much of one anyone.  In the past month I’ve resumer my running endeavor.  My pace has actually gotten worse.  Someone mentioned that I needed to train differently if I want to run faster.  If I knew how, I would.  That being said, I mentally remind myself every single time I lace up my shoes that I just have to push through, accept the heumiliation of not really being able to complete the 3 or 4 mile run without walking here and there, and forcing myself not to look at the clock.  I’ve been told I won’t see results until I’ve been doing this about 2 years so I’m trying not to look for any.  In that regard I’m really just running because I committed to do it and I’d probably still look like an armadillo in 2 years either way.  But enough about the running.

In related news, my wife went out of town for a business trip a few days ago.  When Daddy is home alone with the kids (and our Jack Russell Terrier), I insist they sleep in my bed.  If I’m the only adult in the house I just like having them with me.  I think it’s more for my sake than theirs.  Last night around 3AM a thunderstorm rolled through.  Normally this wouldn’t present any problems because the three of us sleep very soundly.  But when this storm moved in I knew it.  That’s because the dog is apparently afraid of storms.  My little pup came tearing into my room, leapt onto my bed, stood on my chest, and began lapping my face while yelping and whimpering in my ear.  I tried to calm him down, even let him in the yard thinking I had forgotten his walk before bed.  But 3 more episodes of this and I gave up trying to get any sleep.  At one point my daughter looked at her brother and said “Why are you licking my face?”  No sweetheart, it’s the dog.  What a night…

So you see I’m caught up now.  And now I’ll catch up on that sleep.


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