It was 1989, and instead of our normal chem teacher, our beloved Doc, in walks my ExBf to teach us about elements and stuff. Modern day though, not the high school version of him. He was subbing for Doc because Doc was at the Olympics. And I wasn't sitting down yet...I'd been up chatting with someone about something, and when he walked in, I froze where I was, not really processing what was happening. I was also modern-day me but for some reason stuck in high school chemistry. Probably because I never really understood it the first go-round.
The ExBf/chem teacher gave me a look. Not the sweet kind I was used to getting, but a "get your butt in your seat before I act all teachery on you" kind. So I sat down. And leaned over to ask the guy sitting next to me why my ExBf was our sub.
But the guy sitting next to me was my Ex. And he was making notes on a menu from Maggiano's and told me it was time to go to the football team's fundraiser dinner. (????) So we left class before it even started, and hopped on Vespas (????) to drive to the fieldhouse for the fundraiser.
The ExBf was also there...I guess the football team fundraiser ranked higher than teaching HS chemistry that day...and they got in line with the other football guys dressed in red and white uniforms to serve pasta. I wandered around the lines, looking for a plate, and then I decided I couldn't eat the pasta anyway because I'm training and eating low carb. (Go me!! Sticking to my low carb eating plan even in my dream life!). I found some lemons that I suppose were for the iced tea and started eating them, but then I remembered the story my 7th grade biology teacher told us about how she and her sisters always sucked on lemons to whiten their teeth...and ended up losing all their enamel. So I spit out the lemons and went back to class.
When I got there, I ran into my ExBf again. I can tell you exactly what shirt he was wearing and the cologne he had on. And I told him about my dream that he was our chem teacher. And we laughed, and then the bell rang. And it rang again. And again. And again. And again.
And I woke up. To my annoying alarm clock.
Which, is why I didn't make it up for P90x this morning. I was hanging out in a weird parallell dream world universe. I've been a crazy, vivid dreamer all my life. I swear sometimes I wake up so tired because I've lived a whole other life while I've been sleeping.
Speaking of weird parellell dream universes, today is 2 months and 1 week until Tough Mudder time. I'm happy with where I am, all but running. But I upped my cardio last week to 2 hours a day, and this past Saturday I did a 2.5 hour spin class. I thought the instructors would go easy on us, a little bit at least, because they had us for 2.5 hours. But nope, not at all. They killed us. But the cool thing was that I finished and even though my legs were a little tight, they weren't really sore. I did come home and sleep for 2 hours after the ride, but I am encouraged that I made it through 2.5 hours of lower body torture this weekend with no real side effects.
So because we're essentially two months out (don't want to train hard the week before the race), I'm going to up my training a little bit more. P90x in the a.m., a spin class in the evening, and then after I get my kiddo to bed, an hour on the elliptical or treadmill (elliptical will probably always win my vote: I hate the treadmille). So that's 3 hours of training just about every day. I signed up for bootcamp at the gym, and I'll incorporate that in the last month before the race, and then, hopefully I won't die!!
Now, I'm off to find some theories about what my crazy dream means. Other than the most obvious one: I'm crazy. Show me a Tough Mudder who isn't though. Signing up to voluntarily run through fire is probably the textbook definition of crazy. And it's all relative. I have nutty dreams and am excited about running through fire, and other people have to open and close the door 15 times to make sure it shuts. It takes all kinds of crazy to make this world, or the parellell dream version of this world, go round.
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