Potatoes make vodka. Who’s to say the sweet ones can’t screen a film?

Tough Mudder day. I’m ready, hyped and in the zone. There’s a non-zero chance I go super saiyan right on the course, that’s how intent I am on giving it my everything. I also say this garbed in purple leggings and a pink runner’s top. Tough Mudder, I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly, but I am. Or this jelly is. Wait, which bit is the jelly? Have I done enough glute stretching so as not to make that an egregious claim? Maybe I need a little more. I ate my simple porridge, I’ve been tossing water back like I’m on E. Did low scale carbo loading for the last few days and just had that good poop I spent 12 hours waiting for. I’ve been throwing mobility stretching in wherever I can. Porridge in the microwave? What better time to reach down and try to touch the floor? It’s getting excessive but hey, I’ve been training for months, what are a few more hours?

And a few more hours I have. We checked the starting time schedule and we’ve been bumped from an 11am start to 12.45pm. Shit, there go my calculations. I’ll need to toss in another light snack, I could’ve used more sleep. Then again, it’s not like that would’ve done me much good. Sleep was as sleep is before anything I’m excited about: Fleeting. I tucked myself into bed at 9pm then proceeded to wake up every second hour to go pee (and not be able to poo), because I’d been chugging back so much agua. I had a weird, tense dream about my ex-girlfriend leaving and her demanding I paid her off for something. I was worth the money to have her out of my life, but stress came when I needed to withdraw large sums of money and get back to her apartment in time. It was tight, but I got there in the end and she left for good. Then 2am struck and I lather, rinsed and repeated my repetitive rinsing that’d been happening through the night.

By this point my mind was so intent on today’s proceedings that it couldn’t shut down. I started thinking about obstacles, how best to tackle them, how to handle potential issues that could arise. What would I do if my team couldn’t go on any longer? Would I drop out? Hang back with them until they were ready? I know I don’t care about my time, that’s not why I’m doing it. The goal is to get over the finish line in whatever capacity I can. Then again, last time I came up against physical adversity like this I clenched my teeth and pushed through the pain. Consequently I now have knee problems. My therapist asked me the other day what my breaking point is? If the pain starts creeping up, when do I call it quits? Does it have cranked up to 8? 9? 11? I didn’t know what to tell her, honestly. I know how badly I want to finish and I don’t know how well that stacks up against self-preservation. I’ve been known to bear down (for midterms) and get stubborn at times.

3am had passed and I figured none of this was conducive to getting the sleep my body needed. I started to think about a Magic the Gathering deck I’d built and potential improvements. I got sleepy again. I told myself that things would be fine, I was gonna wake up in the morning ready to own it. Eventually I drifted back to sleep and into my weird realm of dreaming. Friends and I had gone on holiday together. We’d found some charter trip that started on a double decker bus and ended up on an intimate island accessible only by boat. Thing was, the elderly couple running the charter we’re peculiar in the most concerning way. The husband had a creepy vibe, the “I flay for leisure” vibe. The wife was eerily affectionate to people she’d just met. She had fingers full of large sparkling rings and a predatory nature to her fey air. We offloaded from the bus and a tall teenager took our bags. He didn’t speak. We boarded a boat filled with cats. Fluff from port to starboard. They handed us each a mug filled with warm milk and jellybeans. The milk had a thick, saccharine taste to it. I looked around at the cats scattered around suspiciously. Just what kind of milk was this? I declined to finish my milk and jellybeans, which made the husband furious and the wife cry. “Look what you’ve done to her. How are you gonna make it up?” She came up to me and caressed my face, a touch I shuddered away from. While they were distracted with the other passengers I tossed my mug’s contents overboard, threw the mug and grabbed my friends while they were distracted by the shattering clay. We grabbed a row boat and escaped with all the speed we could muster. We ended up at a diner, which was having a competition to blend food and memories harmoniously. I constructed a projector made of deep fried sweet potato to take home the trophy.

I awoke with a bolt to my alarm. What the shit was that? Tough Mudder ain’t shit compared to that. Today’s gonna be a breeze.

Wish me luck.


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