2019: Year of the Beast

So I started this Crossfit year with a nice little Rx:

1600 m. run
50 Thrusters @ 15 kg.
800 m. run
35 Thrusters @ 15 kg.
400 m. run
20 Thrusters @ 15 kg.

It took me 31.12, but dang, I finished it.

Now, I like me some thrusters, but the running was killing. Coming off two weeks of Party Hearty Marty, let’s say I was not merely a tad hungover, but rather pickled.

The mixology experiments over the holidays went well. Some at our house have come over to the venerable Sazerac. To be honest, I just really liked saying “Sazerac” with a snooty French accent, and it felt cool ordering one at the Park Lane Hotel when I was there last spring. They are surprisingly delicious. I was determined to spread the word.  Go on, try one:  Sazerac Recipe.

You won’t find Peychaud’s Bitters anywhere around these parts, so I switched out to “Twents Bittertje”, which gave it a bit of local flavor. Absinthe, on the other hand, was easily found at the liquor store.

However, as of Wednesday, 2 January, Dry January has been in force chez nous. Number 1 Son challenged his father and I to join him. Who wouldn’t? Right? With gloom and rain ahead from now until the first daffodil (1 March, I hope!) it’s tough not to curl up by the fire with something soothing, like say a Sazerac or a dark red Primitivo and some cheese, but when is something worthwhile ever easy?

After the WOD last Wednesday, I felt like a badass. Thursday I woke to a surprise visit from Aunt Flo; she’d been away for months and I thought I ‘d seen the last of that bitch, but no. I just badassed my way through a buncha Netflix and moved as little as possible all day. Friday and Saturday were still miserable days where I reminded myself and everybody else that I am a badass who can do 105 thrusters as I gritted my teeth through the cramps and tried not to cry. Tomorrow I will literally put on the big girl panties and march my bad little ass to the Box, where I am sure it will be handed right back to me on a platter. Good times.

S