Confession: I wrote the previous post on Saturday morning, and it is now Monday morning. My grammatical tenses will not change because, honestly, I don't care that much about grammar; that's okay since this blog centers around my athletic life and not my schooling (I also tend to misuse commas. Get over it).
Yesterday (Sunday), I woke up and immediately remembered everything I did on the ruck. There was no way my quads were forgetting the steep uphill climbs we did. The bruises on my collarbone were happy/painful reminders that I carried 25 pounds on my back the whole 5 hours. And my abs. Whew. Those bad-boys were not happy with me at all, and I have no idea why. Yeah, sure, we did some crunches and planks in the midst of all the rucking madness, but that shouldn't make it hard to put a shirt on. The soreness is my body's way of reminiscing on all of the challenges that is was able to overcome on that hike. And while it hurts to pour milk on my cereal, I am actually enjoying the pain. Not in some weird sadistic way, but in a joyful, possibly stupid, I-would-do-it-all-over-again-with-those-crazy-fuckers sort of way.
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