So, even though I was trying not to have throwing goals for this weekend...I could not help myself and I put 8 numbers on a little sticky note and shoved it in my purse.
I dragged that little asshole out this morning and here is what is showed me.
I do love me some post it notes...
25
31
45
62
65
80
18
That's what I wrote.
Those of you can guess what those numbers mean....well, this is how the day ended up.
26
32
46
59
64
73
15
I am still struggling with my hammers...but heavy wasn't far off from my post it note...light is a mess...so is light weight. I was double spinnin' with that heavy though, so that's good. Now, that WOB number is a little misleading. The first day of the comp, our group got delayed a bit, so when I won the event at 15 feet, I opted not to move the bar up so as not to jam up the standard any long...and we had caber to throw to! I have also noticed that I am really dealing with the recovery after and during games really well. Last year I had added the spin bike to my routine in a more regular way and I think that is really having a positive affect in recovery and "making it through" a game. Now I know that there is a lot of down time during this game, but it is also a high stress game too.
Headed to Estes this weekend, yikes. I don't do back to back games any more...I'm too old. Really set myself up for a rough Fall...oh well. I did hit the gym today and will try to hit it again on Thursday, while making sure I get up on that bike. I think I will just keep this ratty little post it for the game in Estes too.
I did have a really hard time this weekend feeling my age....feeling older than my age. Really feeling that I am on a serious slide into something...new. I am super grateful that a lot of games, even huge ones like Pleasanton, have added the upper masters classes so I an still come play.
Man oh man...the 40's masters classes had 4 people in on WOB at 20 feet. You read that right, 20 feet. It was so cool. SO inspiring. I loved hanging out on the horse track on Sunday and watching all the huge throws.
Once it was all wrapped up, I was walking down the track and I looked up. Took a deep breath in as I watched a hawk riding the thermals in and out of the palm trees.
I stopped for a moment and just felt the ephemeral nature of this moment. I may never be back on that track again, for any number of reasons.
That made me feel such gratitude. Gratitude for this moment, for this game, for the organizers, for the volunteers, for all the athletes, for the friends I have made, for this body that is still holding up.
If I never get to look up at those palm trees again, if I never get to watch these powerhouse throwers again, if I never get to push myself on that field again; I have that moment.
I hold this gratitude.
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