Last Tuesday magically became Tuesday Bruise-day in the world of Spartan Chicks. (It’s a cool little world filled with mud, sweat, spandex, and raccoons*. If you are chick and a Spartan/Sparkle you should come join the group here.) Everyone was posting pics of their OCR-related bruises. In the non-Spartan Chick world, bruises are quickly covered with long skirts, pantyhose, or even makeup. In this world, they are displayed proudly. So for Throwback Thursday, I will tell the story of my Tuesday Bruise-day bruise that I never actually posted because Tuesday was slightly hellish.
So in the words of the wise Sophia Petrillo:
Sicily, 1922 Windham, NY, 2011. A rookie mud runner triumphantly traipsing through the woods coated head-to-toe in muck at her first Warrior Dash. She and her cohorts come upon a clearing. In the middle of the clearing is a wooden frame. A pergola of sorts, but instead of vines full of plump grapes ready for stomping, large tires dangle on ropes from the crossbeams. The girl’s teammates run through, shoving the heavy tires aside. The girl is small and knows the tires will whack her if she tries running through right behind them, so she’s waits patiently for the swinging to cease.
The swinging slows and the girl takes off on a mad dash through the tires with her team waiting on the other side. Suddenly, a giant team of chicks comes out of nowhere and barrels through the hanging garden of Goodyears. Having little to no obstacle course etiquette, one of them pushes a tire directly at the small girl. Her face takes all the impact. She knows she’s probably bleeding, but there is a race to be run and she keeps moving.
Four of the chicks pair off and start locking lips at the edge of the woods. The girl forgets the jacked up eyeball and runs ahead to tell the guys that they just missed some hot muddy lesbian action. The boys cry a little bit on the inside. From then on, the story is known as the Lesbian Tire Incident.
In case you haven’t figured it out, that girl was me.
I wish I had take a photo of myself a few days later. It was a doozie. Shades of greenish-purple that you only see.. well, you don’t see shades of greenish-purple ever, do you? It definitely wasn’t the biggest/worst/longest lasting/weirdest bruise I’ve ever gotten, but it sure as hell was the coolest (so far.) It was the first time I got THAT look from people – Dearie, here is the address of a safe-home. You don’t have to take that abuse. Thankfully, people at work figured it out quickly that my injuries were from crazy sports and not a drunk husband.
Any good injury/bruising stories out there?
*If you are guy, you probably don’t want to know. If you are girl, ask away about the significance of the raccoon.