CMC Urban Assault Recap

Let's be clear on something.  If life were a sitcom, I'd be the quirky neighbor.  At best, I'd be the plucky sidekick.  I am not leading lady material.  

Case in point: the Civilian Military Combine Urban Assault.  The race consisted of a 10 minute strength component called the Pit, wherein you tried to score as many reps as possible of thrusters, burpees, kettlebell swings and box jumps, followed by a five-ish mile obstacle course.

Because my corneal edema (a/k/a f*ed up eye) had still not yet healed, I once again had to compete in my prescription sunglasses.  On, off, on, off all dang day.  I chalked up my nose to try to keep them from slipping off - no luck.  I toyed with the idea of throwing lacrosse goggles over them, but that was too dorky even for me.  

In all fairness, I can't blame my vision for my poor performance in the Pit.  I scored 121 total reps - the exact same number I got during a practice run a month ago when I was exhausted.  I should've had closer to 140.  For whatever reason, I didn't make that happen.  (Spealler-style dehydration was likely the culprit.)

It is possible that my vision played a role in me slamming my left knee into a thick metal gate.  It's worth noting that this particular gate was NOT one of the obstacles.  It was simply a gate between a running trail and the pavement - the type meant to dissuade cars from driving on the path.  The guys in front of me leapt over it with gusto, though, so I went for it - and went right into it.  

It hurt.  It still hurts. 

But I was not deterred.  My teammates - who were awesome - were giving it their all, and I was determined not to slow us down.  I charged onward.  A short time later, with the finish line nearly in sight, we picked up sandbags.  At first, we just carried them.  Then, we carried them over some low hurdles.  Then, there were tires on the ground.  I thought I was being careful - but lateral movement really isn't my strong suit.  My right ankle folded, and I went down.  

I sat on the tire that tripped me for a good few minutes.  When I could speak, I urged passersby to move carefully through the tires.  And then I got up.  I was fairly certain that it was just a sprain; if I could put weight on it, I was going to finish the course.  Lo and behold, I could.  

I can't say that I finished gracefully or strong, but I finished and I got my "veteran" t-shirt.  And I just may do it again sometime. 

-Gym Belle-