I returned home after our AWESOME Stilettos & Self Defense class with Jennifer Cassetta (@JennCassetta) to find a very antsy boyfriend waiting for me. He was ready to get moving and suggested we go to a yoga class. And despite the fact that I had just had a beer, I obliged. We had an hour or so before class and it had been at least an hour already since I had the beer so I figured it couldn’t possibly be that bad. Only it was…that bad and more.
Less than 10 minutes into class and I was feeling the beer (and most likely the wine from the previous night) and was a total mess. I was falling out of just about every posture and taking breaks on the mat every few minutes. It was one of the hardest 90 minutes of my life. And while I was straight up suffering, Casey was moving through class like it was nothing. He looked great and totally present. I had a lot of time to watch him from my fetal position on the mat and I couldn’t help but be a little jealous. And not just because he had a great class and I didn’t but because he’s one of those superhuman people who can pick up right where they left off like it ain’t no thing. He hadn’t been to yoga in months. He had barely been working out for the last several months due to a CRAZY work schedule. But he was moving and moving well.
And to make matters worse, we woke up the next morning (me still dehydrated and barely alive) and decided to go for a long-ish trail run. To escape the fog that was looming over the city, we drove and drove and drove until we ended up at the Olema Valley Trailhead (near Pt. Reyes). It was a beautiful trail – overgrown with weeds about as tall as me – and surrounded on all sides by green, green and more green. Seriously, it was gorgeous.
The first 3.1 miles we were flying. It was mostly flat with some gradual downhill (and a lot of big, crazy weeds). He was running easy. His pace was a bit much for me but I kept up anyway. I was literally huffing and puffing to keep up and every so often felt like I might just fall apart.
At about 3.1 miles, we had a decision to make – .4 miles more to Dogtown and turnaround or head up the Pablo Marin trail for another 1.2 before turning around. Of course, he decided he was down for a little extra mileage. As we approached the Pablo Marin trail, we realized it was going up, up, up…and that there was a sign warning us of aggressive yellow jackets. Great. Uphill with a side of yellow jackets. We kept moving despite the warning. About 5 minutes up the hill, my legs started feeling really heavy and I had to convince myself to stay positive. And of course, right when I was turning that frown upside down, a yellow jacket bit the shit out of my leg and I started to crumble a little…piece by piece. It freaking hurt. Like you wouldn’t believe.
After some whining on my part, I decided to shake it off and keep moving anyway – yes – brilliant idea, I know. And then he got stung…like three times…and we decided to say screw it to the rest of that trail and headed back towards safety. It was an adventure to say the least.
Along the way, we decided to jump in a creek to soothe the bites and the rash on his legs from the stinging nettle (as if stinging bugs weren’t enough!!). While wading in the cold creek, we met some people on horseback and warned them about the infested trail ahead and then were off to finish our 8 or so mile run. As we pounded out the last few miles, I realized his pace was still a bit too much for me. I had to start backing off because my legs were just getting too heavy and I was feeling really fatigued.
And while I love that he’s such an athlete, sometimes it’s a little discouraging. I am not superhuman. I work out all the time. I run. I go to yoga. I strength train. All the damn time. I am constantly in motion. And he’s ……well, not. He comes in and out. But every time he’s in, he’s amazing. He seems to pick right up where he’s left off.
And even though it can be discouraging, it’s probably also really good for me. I’ve never been and will never be one of those people who is just a natural at anything. I’ve always had to work really hard and always will. And not just at sports – but literally everything I do. I never simply cruise. I have to work my butt off. Sure, I was a good student. But I freaking worked for that. Sure, I’m a decent runner. But I freaking work for that too.
The fact of the matter is that if I want to keep up with my superhuman boyfriend or any other superhumans I encounter along the way, I’ll just have to keep working hard and harder. Lazy just won’t do. And even though it kind of sucks, maybe it’s a good thing.