At 8:15 Saturday morning, a group of about 25 of us were in a big circle on the floor of the box, panting, dribbling, and motionless. Every one of us was holding a plank, and the sounds of Sting lamenting a hooker was blaring from the stereo. Every time he said “Roxanne,” we did a pushup.
WELCOME TO THE WEEKEND, KIDS.
For the WOD, we did a card game. One movement per suit, card value equals number of reps, Aces equal 15.
- Hearts = situps x 2
- Diamonds = burpee pullups
- Clubs = wall balls
- Spades = squat clean thrusters
- Jokers = 800m run
I paired up with Jason, which was nice. We rarely get to work out together anymore, now that we’re not new and we’re both getting stronger all the time. Honestly, the only thing we really did together on this WOD was using the same deck of cards, and when the Jokers were drawn (both relatively early in the game), we both had to run. I think the idea was that we run together, but Jason is a much, much better runner than me (he’s the Forrest Gump to my Napoleon Dynamite) so he would take off like a gazelle while I lumbered along in his dust.
There was a 40 minute time cap; we didn’t get through the deck (I’m not sure very many groups did, to be honest). Those squat clean thrusters beat the crap out of both of us. As
bad luck would have it, most of the Spades were clustered near each other in the deck, so towards the end of the 40 minutes, we drew Spade after Spade. It got to the point where I had to take a significant break after every single rep. I could not have been more relieved to see that clock tick over to 40 minutes.
Then Saturday evening we went to a party hosted by a couple from the box. They live in the country not far from us, and they have a big backyard. There was volleyball, and cornhole, and a slip n slide, and lots of food, and way, way more booze than could be considered appropriate outside of a frat house. I haven’t had that much to drink since my summer stock days, ten years ago. I was sticking to beer in the beginning, but then I got roped into a tequila shot and it was all over. Out came the whiskey and out came Drunk Shanelle, who had been stuffed in the back of a closet for a long, long time. (It’s okay, she’s fun. She just makes the next day horrible, so I don’t really let her out anymore.)
Jason was impressed by how quietly I puke. “All I heard was whiskey hitting the bowl.”
Sunday dawned way, way too bright and too early. Amazingly, my head didn’t hurt and I didn’t feel queasy. I’ve felt worse the morning after two glasses of wine. I was, however, shaky and clammy, and my head felt like it was full of cotton balls. Definitely couldn’t have gone to the box even if there was a WOD. Jason volunteered to go get us some hangover food (because he wasn’t feeling much better than me) and he came home with ice cream, gluten-free muffins and cookies, crystallized ginger… basically a sack full of fat, sugar, and flour. It helped a lot, and by mid-afternoon we were ready for real food. I made breakfast for lunch, then we had pork chops and zucchini from the garden for dinner, and by bedtime we felt more-or-less normal.
We did not partake of the bottle of wine I had bought earlier in the week. That can wait a couple days. Maybe longer.
Last night I also had to take some pictures in the garden. I finally got the weeds pulled down to the ground (fucking crabgrass can go straight to hell), and you can see beyond the weeds to the glorious bounty of flowers and veggies. It still needs a good going-over with a hoe, but it looks a lot better and the carrots can breathe, so we’re good.
Next year I’m going to make the garden into an oasis. Seriously, I just want to hang out with it like a friend. It makes me so happy.