stillsostrange

Saturday was Warrior Dash, which I attended despite the last month of knee problems and my banged up arm. Compared to Run For Your Lives, it was both harder and easier. The WD trail was full of nasty hills, and of course December in Texas is a better time to run than March. But without the ever-present threat of zombies, you didn't have to run. And mostly I didn't after the first stretch. The WD obstacles were a bit more challenging, though I was disappointed we didn't get some of the cooler ones they show in promo photos.*

We did get tire grids and wet balance beams and over-unders with barbed wire and rope tunnels and chain ladders and several walls to climb over, including a wall with a knotted rope** and trenches that could be vaulted or climbed out of and fire pits to jump. So perhaps I need to shut up and be happy with my obstacles.

The final obstacle was a mud trench through which we had to swim. Reader, I have never been so filthy in my life. My bathroom has never been so filthy. Now I know what hippos feel like, except they don't have to sit in a car for an hour still caked in mud afterward.

After the race I think I can safely call myself a badass. After the race is also when I became a badass who makes poor decisions. You see, as soon as I got home I had to jump in the shower (see aforementioned filthy bathroom) and get ready to go to a SXSW show. I ate a small something immediately post race, and another small something when I got home, and drank some nasty Sports Beverage. This put me at around 1200 calories for the day.

Reader, 1200 calories is not enough after an obstacle course. Especially not when one plans to go stand/dance at a concert for seven hours. I was feeling pretty okay when I left to meet my friends for the show, better than I had after Run For Your Lives. I attributed this to not being soaked to the bone and chilled as I had been then. I met my friends, we went to the venue. The parking gods smiled upon us in a way that usually requires a bloody sacrifice. There was hardly any line and doors were to open in 30 minutes. All seemed well.

After twenty minutes standing in line in the sun, my vision went staticky, and the surf noise of an incipient grey out began drown out nearby conversations. I felt nauseous. I thought very clearly that I needed to sit down, but I couldn't actually do so. Then the world went away for a few seconds. It came back to find my concerned and startled companions holding me upright. I finally managed to sit down in a strip of shade. A friend got me water and carbs***. The venue opened (only half an hour late) and they poured ginger beer down me. Blood sugar being restored, I proceeded to dance through most of the night. (I sat out much of the Xeno & Oaklander set because my feet hurt too damn much, but there was no way I wasn't dancing through The Soft Moon's.)

So, crisis averted, right? But through all of 2013 I've been running on a sleep deficit, and wondering when I would hit the wall. Well, dear reader, I hit that wall on Sunday. I got four hours of sleep and shambled home to get ready for an evening shift at work. By noon I was too nauseous for lunch, so I took a quick nap instead. I felt a little better after that, and ate some toast. I went to work. I spent the next four hours being dizzy and nauseous and sitting down frequently. A coworker gave me her lunch so I wouldn't have to leave the store and I napped again on my lunch break. It didn't help. I was still dizzy when I got up. At this point multiple coworkers began telling me to go home. Which I eventually did.

Now I've had ten hours of sleep and am camped in bed with the laptop. My back is sore, as are my poor sunburned legs, but otherwise I think I'm alive again.

I would really like to declare Project Valkyrie a success, but I still can't do a pull-up.



* I'm still not sure about Spartan Race or Tough Mudder, but if I'm going to complain about lack of obstacles, I may have to try one of them. Next year.

** The rope wall was the one obstacle that multiple people ahead of me failed. I did not. I did, however, very nearly climb back down to kick the ass of the spectator who expressed surprise when I aced it. No mead horn for you, asshole.

*** My own poor decision making is not one of the reasons I keep nurses around as climbing and dancing partners, but maybe it ought to be.

Yesterday at work I shelved a copy of Conan the Freebooter, which I misread as Conan the Freeloader. I was then left contemplating the Conan who crashes on your couch for a month, never buys groceries, and drinks all your beer.

And today one of j_cheney's posts has me trying to figure out how to mash-up Conan with Snow Flower and the Secret Fan. The poignant story of two women's friendship, while one becomes a priestess and one becomes a warlord bent on breaking open the gates of hell. This has potential, I think.

I sometimes complain about my characters, but in fact they're kind of awesome. Case in point, I just told the cast of Oracle of Plagues that someone might have to be castrated. (Oracle only has two male characters so far.) There wasn't a stampede or bloody mutiny. It's like they know what to expect around here.

Tonight I took CPR/first aid training. I'm now certified to crack your ribs if you stop breathing. Much of the brief CPR training I had in 8th or 9th grade seems to have stuck, but I'm very glad that this class used the intermammary line as the compression spot, instead of making you count fingers and worry about snapping the xiphoid process. I was also happy to learn the 100 BPM rule, which I hadn't known. I have great faith in the Bee Gees and ABBA to bring people back from the dead, if only in annoyance. I need to make a resurrection playlist and keep it on my phone for such purposes.

Defibrillators were also discussed, though sadly we didn't get to play with one.