Weekend Warrior

I may have the wrong definition for the phrase Weekend Warrior. I competed in my first (and possibly my last) Super Spartan race. What exactly is a Super Spartan race you might ask - technically it is an 8 mile obstacle race, but it is almost one of those things that you have to see to believe.

It started with a nice one mile jog along the river. Not much different that a normal run for me, except there was dirt and not a boardwalk. The first "obstacle" was a small creek that we had to wade across. It was no more than calf deep, so easy enough to maneuver. The hard part was running with wet shoes afterwards.

After sloshing for another half mile, we had to crawl through a low tent for a 1/4 mile. As soon as you exited the tent, you had to immediately scale an 8 foot vertical flat wall. We had to help each other up and over. Luckily, I was given a knee up to the top, and then could reach down and pull my knee assist up. Then we both were able to drop the eight feet down the other side. Another half mile, and we reached an inlet of the bay. We were assured that it was only waist high, but my chin would disagree. Another 1 1/2 mile run, and we had to scale a twenty-five foot cargo net. I felt a little like Spider man.

At each obstacle station, you were warned that if you couldn't complete the obstacle the punishment was 30 burpees. I HATE burpees, so I had lots of motivation to complete the challenges. The next obstacle was a Rubik's cube. Finally, an obstacle that made use of my nerdy side. You only had to complete one side, and you are talking to the girl who wasted countless hours of her youth solving the cube. I was in and out in seconds, and must say I gloated a little as I walked by all the fit athletes doing burpees.

Another jog, and then we hit "the walls" - literally. There were six total: two you had to climb over, two to climb under, and two to climb through. Another jog along the water, and then the balance beam. Balance - no one said anything about balance. I fell off less than half way through, and did my burpees. (Will go on record as still hating burpees.) The next part was a 5 mile run through the woods. Let's just say that my nice runs along the marina did not adequately prepare me for a trail run, but I survived to the other side.

It went pretty quickly from there. We had to lug a cement block up a hill and down the other side. Climb a 50 foot cargo net, scale down a bridge on a rope, and then climb back up the other side, hit a target with a stone, crawl through mud on our stomach with barbed wire over head, "rock" climb along a wall, climb a water and detergent slicked wall using rope, and last get pummeled by Gladiators as we tried to cross the finish line. Proud to say that I had to do no more burpees.

All in all a pretty typical Saturday - right? My trainer Keri - who was the one that actually talked me into this crazy thing - started in a much earlier heat, but stuck around to cheer me on. If I had the energy, I would have killed her, but alas all I could do was smile.

Girl's Best Friend

I am blessed with wonderful friends and family. Yesterday, I lost one of my best. After helping me survive years of training, and a few years of retirement in Georgia, my beautiful puppy died yesterday.

No, but thanks for asking

I went to the Gyn today - routine visit.

My doctor upon walking into the room said "So are you getting busy?".

I quickly answered "Yes finally - very happy".

He and I were both talking about my clinical practice at work, but not sure the nurse standing in the room knew the context. Can only imagine the conversations she is now having with the other ladies in the office.

Cease Fire

For the last several months, my body and I have been at war. We'll call me the freedom fighters. I simply wanted to free my body from a measly 10 lbs that it has had in its possession for the last 15 years. My body, which we will call the Rebel forces, has stubbornly refused to concede so much as a pound.

I have tried everything, and I mean everything. I did a flush and a cleanse. I severely calorie restricted. I lowered my carbs. I massively increased my protein and tried higher calories. I gave up caffeine and sugar. When none of that worked, I consulted a nutritionist. She had me give up dairy, gluten and soy. I could now eat comfortably with the cave men.

I increased my training to three days a week. My trainer is pushing me so much that random people come up to me in the gym to comment on how hard she works me out. I run, stair master and elliptical 3-4 days per week. I have never been stronger or in better shape in my life. However, the scale hasn't budged a single pound.

I was slowly going crazy when I actually stopped a minute to think. I truly feel wonderful. I have tons of energy, and for the first time in my life, I actually feel athletic. I no longer obsess about calories or when my next meal is coming. I truly eat when I'm hungry, and stop when I'm full. I am at a perfectly acceptable weight, and can wear everything in my closet. Why am I so obsessed about a number on a scale and flat abs?

I then started to think of all the things my body has done for me. It puts up with a ridiculous schedule that rebels half it's age would struggle. It tolerates sleep deprivation, sporadic feedings, dehydration, long periods between bathroom breaks, endless hours upright, and a ridiculous level of stress. All without complaints, and without ever truly letting me down.

Therefore, I have decided to call a truce. At the end of the day, both sides are working toward the same goal - a healthy old age. If it is happy with an extra 10 lbs, and has some odd moral objection to flat abs - so be it. I concede. I will continue to work out and eat cleanly because quite frankly I must admit that I like how it makes me feel. In return I simply ask that it continue to allow me to survive and even thrive on my crazy life.

I promise to never do it again

So after almost a year and a half on the job, I finally decided to take my first vacation last week. Will never make that mistake again. The vacation - fantastic. Spent a few days at home, and then a few days here on the beach with my sister. Capped off by Broadway Across America production of WICKED. Excellent. The coming back to work - excruciating. Going back after vacation is never fun, but I am pretty sure it shouldn't be physically painful. Overbooked clinic to make up for the week off. Both partners out of town, so covering all the patients and consults. Oh, let's add some transplants to the mix. Following a heart harvest, a lung harvest, and subsequent lung transplant, I finally crawled into the sleeping bag on my office floor around 4:00 am today. No use going home as I had to be back for a 7 am meeting, and I have three elective cases today which I couldn't cancel. So now here I sit, two cases down and one to go, waving my white towel. I promise to never take vacation again if you will just make the beatings stop.