So how did I celebrate conquering the mountainous challenge of Tough Mudder?
The obvious answer was total body shut down, right? My body has become a shrine of ache. My entire lower body is stiff beyond belief (well, most of it. Tough Mudder caused many things, but priapism was not one of them). There are tight spots all up my back. Occasionally I’ll notice a strange series of pains after picking something up. There’s a soreness in my collarbone that wasn’t there yesterday morning. My neck has no problem reminding me just how much work my body did. There are scratches all over my left arm for some reason. I’ve lost the higher registers of my voice. Sudden jolts of ankle pain shoot in every now and again. Strangely enough, my butt is one of the only things left untouched. Maybe I’ll hold off on heavy physical activity for a day or two. I need to put some serious time into stretching everything out. Foam rolling, yadda yadda yadda.
It’s hard to put conscious thought towards those kind of boring necessities when I’m off on my alternative celebration plans: Stuffing my face.
My one misgiving about the event was the lack of food along the course. They had bananas after the fifth or sixth obstacle. That was it. Last year there were bananas, energy gummies and protein bars. This year, one banana. My team mate was wearing a fitbit. Apparently we churned through around 1700 calories over the event. One banana did not fill that void. You know what did though? A post race spicy butter chicken and beer. I shovelled the entire curry on rice into my eagerly awaiting inner furnace. To wash it down I had a gorgeous sour beer from Blood Brothers Brewery. My girlfriend had thoughtfully bought it as a celebratory drink months ago, figuring victory would taste like a delicious sour beer. It was fantastic. In fact, drinking felt so good that I threw a couple of vodkas and a mug of red wine on top of that.
This felt so good that I thought I’d roll the hedonism train right along into today. Had big brunch with the girlfriend. Toast, hash browns, eggs and ham steak. I met a friend at Trinity Common for patio beers. I ordered a Rosée D’Hibiscus from Dieu De Ciel brewery and grabbed a hell of a burger while I was there. Two patties, bacon, fried egg and blue cheese, flanked with fries and root vegetable slaw. Tired as my body was, I was surprised I could even summon the strength to lift my stomach post meal. My friend and I wandered around for a while to solve what My Favourite Ex calls a “mouth hungry” dilemma. We needed (read: wanted) dessert and there were an abundance of options. In my consumptive state, even I couldn’t handle the notion of one of those excessively stacked ice cream parlours, but eventually we found our way to Kekou Gelato House. So many amazing flavours (including durian, which tasted only mildly better than it smelled), but in the end it was hard to pass up the opportunity to create my own replica pineapple lumps combo. One scoop of dark chocolate and ginger stacked on top of spicy salted pineapple. What a gloriously gluttonous day.
Because why not add my tummy to the list of aching body parts?