It's been just over a week since I participated in one the greatest workouts ever. I wrote two posts describing it's awesomeness, so I won't be doing that again--in other words, read the posts below to learn more about my rucking. The last 7 days have been hard. Hard in the sense that every waking minute I want to be back on that mountain with those people. Perhaps it's the people I am longing for more than the ruck itself, but the two go together in my mind, so who knows?
Since I've been home (I got back Thursday night), none of the workouts I've done can truly measure-up to the greatness that was rucking at 6 a.m. with a bunch of fellow spartans. I went running on Friday and did some bjj training on Saturday, but it wasn't the same. I've come up with a new theory: I'm addicted to dirt. That would explain why I'm more inclined to crawl through a mud pit or run on loose trails than I am to spend a couple hours inside a gym. Unfortunately there aren't many places in Downtown Atlanta to anything that even resembles what I did in Griffith Park. Having said that, I'm hoping to head up to Stone Mountain sometime during the next week to try and recreate the ruck. Or at least do something similar. It'd be pretty hard to recreate it since 1) I'll be alone, and 2) Griffith Park is a huge park that contains actual mountains...Stone Mountain is a giant rock surrounded by concrete and grass. It's worth a shot. And hopefully, by training solo on a rock rather than solo in a gym, I'll be able to tell if it's nature's dirtyness that makes me want to ruck again and again.
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