Announcements:
- DG shaved his face.
- You read that correctly.
- DG no longer has a beard.
Last week was PR day, and being on the injury, and more importantly, picture-taking deck, I had the pleasure of watching the changes that took place on the tribe’s faces (progressing from the pain inflicted by the PR workout itself):
Here is a description of what we do on PR day:
The run is on one specific loop, this time the winter loop. Each tribe member runs the loop as many times as they can during a 30 minute time period, at the end of which, a bell is rung. Tribespeople are NOT to stop moving with the ringing of the bell; instead, they continue whichever loop they are currently on, adding time to their 30 minute time trial. When they are done, they walk away with a number of laps and a final time. Over the next few months, the goal is to either improve their time, their number of loops, or both.
Being designated photographer has its perks, the main one being the direct witness to the pain faces that emerge. To say it was entertaining would be an understatement. Below, enjoy a play by play of the evolution of the PR Face:
Minutes negative 2 to 0: You are charged up, ready to go, locked, and loaded. There is nothing between you and your newest PR except for the next 30 minutes and the potential for puking.
Minutes 0 to 6: You’re settling into your pace, feeling comfortable, and that twinge that just wasn’t loosening has started to relax. You’ve been passing people for the last four minutes and the stairs are child’s play.
Minutes 7 to 13: Okay, this might not feel as great as you initially thought it would. Don’t fret, there’s still at least 17 minutes to go to make up for the time that you took to “stretch” at the top of the stairs. You’re able to pass people puking on the side of the course without feeling nauseous yourself. Nicely done.
Minutes 14 to 19: Should NOT have had that fifth Bel Air taco last night. You can taste the plantain coming up; just have to hold it for the next 11 minutes. The stairs hurt, but you’re recovering well on the flat ground.
Minutes 20 to 27: Welcome to the grind. You’re exhausted and beginning to hallucinate. The finish line is just out of reach and you can smell your extra lap. Somehow Roger has started to actually look like your dad, and you question whether it’s the pain-induced delirium or magic. Either one seems equally as logical at this point in the run.
Minutes 28 to 29.9999999: Your arms have started doing that weird thing they do when your running form breaks down. You’ve started looking like a cross between a white male rapper crossing his arms, a woman churning butter, and a DJ spinning records. You can see DG holding the bell and you pray that he’ll ring it before you get to the finish line.
He doesn’t.
Minutes 30-32: You did end up getting that last lap, you’re looking forward to coffee at Colectivo with all your faves, and you know the end is nigh. You power through your final lap and finish in the tunnel, receive 38 sweaty hugs, and get to tell your coworkers how amazing you feel and how amazing you are.
Revel in it, people, because in another four weeks, evolution happens again.
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