I just got back from a trip to Cannon Beach, Oregon. Denise and I found a dog-friendly place that let us bring Indy along and headed out for a few days of R&R. Normally, I’m not the type to fuss too much about where I vactation. As long as I can just lay back and relax, it’s all pretty much the same to me. That being said, it’s hard to deny the appeal of having this view from your room:

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There’s just something about listening to the ocean at night that cuts through the world. It’s something primal and instinctive. You can’t help but submit to its soothing power. I’m sure this won’t be our last vacation to Cannon Beach.

CrossFit has kicked my ass on more than a few occasions, but last night was definitely a new experience for me. We definitely run from time to time there, but running in CrossFit is typically a high speed and low/medium distance affair. Every now and again, they’ll throw a 5K run at us, but that’s generally where it tops out. Last night when Michael said “Do you guys want to try something we’ve never done before,” I don’t think many people expected to be running 10K.

Fast forward one hour and five seconds later to find me crossing the finish line, covered in sweat and suffering from an irritating, if not bloody bout of runner’s nipple (CrossFitters don’t jog – they run). As I walked around trying to shake off my post-run jelly-leg syndrome, I was surprised at how fatigued and tight my calves felt. Let’s just say that the drive home was one of the few times where I really wished that my vehicle had an automatic transmission. But I made it home and I figured that after a little massage, a nice hot soak, and some sleep I’d be right as rain.

Now fast forward to the next morning as I turn off my alarm and begin my AM pilgrimage to the bathroom. This journey is pure muscle-memory at this point and is generally executed without any assistance from the conscious mind, which is a good thing since my conscious mind isn’t usually around to help out anyhow. But this morning was different. My legs swung out, my feet hit the ground, I stood up. It was at this point that things diverged from the plan. Instead of taking my first step, there was this ugly, stumbling, foot-dragging lurch that nearly ended in a faceplant into my dog’s dog bed. Apparently, my calves had decided to take the morning off, because they were stubbornly refusing to move, and when they did move they unleashed a wave of discomfort that made me briefly consider how the day would go if I just walked on my hands everywhere (If only I had the ability).

With a little willpower, I can approximate a human gait now, but if I don’t focus I slip into a ridiculous stiff-legged simian strut that I’m sure will be oh-so-humorous when I head back to the gym tonight. I’m really looking forward to it. No… really.