Getting my ass kicked by chicks. . .

First it was Cindy on Friday. That made it hard for me to raise my arms.

Then it was Kar-slam-en on Saturday.
50-40-30-20-10
Wall ball @ 20lbs
Ball slams @ 20lbs
16:23

My legs were shattered after that, so The Wee One and I rode an "easy" lap on the Glenwild Loop today. My legs still hurt.

Boring update.

This is a very boring update. Honestly, the only reason I'm writing this is to keep track for myself. Move along. Nothing to see here.

WOD: "Cindy"
AMRAP in 20 minutes of
5 pull ups
10 push ups
15 squats
13 rounds (I did the first 6 rounds in 6 minutes. And then everything went sideways. Ehhh. Fuck it.)

Then

5 rounds of
10 back extensions
10 GHD sit ups

On the DL. . .

That's the Disabled List, not the down low. My left foot is still fucked, but a little less so this morning. My toes don't tingle, and I can walk without a limp. Mostly.

After some highly technical telephone consultation with Dr. Z, I've decided to "rest" for a few days. But I can't rest for real, because (1) I'm a stressed-out prick right now, and (2) I'm trying to stay on track to finish The Steeplechase in two weeks. So...

It's low impact for me for a few days. Last night, I rode the Turner for a couple of hours. Tonight, I think I'll head to the gym for a date with Cindy. Tomorrow, I think breakfast with Karen might be the ticket. The Wee One and I are hoping to hit Flying Dog on Sunday.

Must keep moving...

FKNA!!

I swear like a sailor. This is well known. In the last 24 hours, though, I've been a particularly prolific fuck-sayer. Here are three reasons:

1. EFFING PAGO!! There's a new restaurant and wine bar at 9th+9th -- yes, I said a wine bar at 9th+9th -- and it's fantastic. PAGO. Go there. The food is great, the people are great, and the prices are reasonable (for now...). I joked with the chef that "if you guys started doing brunch I would need a cot in the back." Heh heh. He looked at me sideways and muttered "we start brunch in two weeks."

2. MY EFFING LEFT FOOT hurts like hell. Somewhere along the way on the volcano trip I picked up an ailment in my left foot. It's not the blisters -- they're healing well -- this is something deeper, more structural. My latter three toes were a little tingly when I woke up this morning. After an ill-advised search of The Internets I am stressing that I have developed a Morton's Neuroma. I'm going to try to go for a loooong run today. We'll see how it goes.

3. AN EFFING LEAD PIPE connects my house to the City water line. The sprinkler crew let us in on that little secrect this morning. Lead?! WTF? Did I buy house in ancient Rome? I've already ordered a lead test kit for my tap water. The results of the test may explain my sneaking suspicion that I am getting dumber.

Lassen = Success.

On Monday, Dr. Z and I skied Lassen. Like Shasta, it was an unmitigated success. About 6 hours car to car, climbed 4500', skied 4000'. We spent some time stumbling through pumice looking for the road -- in our ski boots -- and it just didn't matter. Lassen is fantastic. It's an Intermountain-style volcano if there is such a thing. Drive there, bootpack up 4000' of corn-ish snow, rip down, drink a Limonata. Perfect.

I'll get pics up this evening, if I don't get too tipsy at the official opening of Pago.

Today I'm trying to keep my wits about me as I re-engage at The Firm, re-worry about The Steeplechase, and catch up on The Usual.

Done and done.

We did it. Skied the Hotlum-Wintun Ridge on Mt. Shasta from the summit. 24 hours car to car, 8500' of climbing, 7500' of skiing, and then a thousand vertical of bumbling around in the woods trying to find my truck.

More details and pictures to follow. I need a nap.

And here. . . we. . . go. . .

Everything is packed. Map and summit permit secured. Time to begin the slog.

I will update tomorrow evening. With luck, it will be a glorious recount of a fine descent. No matter what, it will be a tale of a sports adventure.

It's time to get up close and personal...