Practicing with the Team-the ice edition.


Do you know where I live? California, USA, specifically near the beach. There is a reason I live here, and that reason is not drum circles and artisan gin distilled from organic juniper berries and herbs served in hand blown glass asymmetric vessels shaped by the spotted, leathery hands of an old C-list punk rocker who drives a Prius.

Nope.

Actually, sometimes I forget why we live here and why we don’t just move to Marfa, Texas or Joshua Tree, Desert or Naturita, Colorado. All have been thunk on and rejected due to The Beach. We live by the beach and the redwood trees and meadows all at the same time, and all last week, in the middle of January, everyone was trudging around complaining about the heat. Was SO HOT. Shorts and racerback tanks for those with cores of steel not protected by a generous helping of what appears to be that pizza dough you buy at Trader Joe’s in a squishy plastic bag. Personally, for this reason, I kept a jacket on.


And then it went back to fairly normal January except with extra added ice. I go to a gym now, and in my 7am exercise class the chippy chirpy cheerleader guy who cheerfully assigns sadistic hippity hoppity kicky exercises for our cores sent us on multiple dashes as far a manicured bush across the parking lot through actual, snowy looking ice. There were only 4 of us in the class. The others were very young with 6-pack cores and when they passed me and I was all, “Hey, you guys are PASSING ME!” they didn’t even bat an eye my way, just kept running through that ice as I huffed my way out to that damn bush.

The cheerleader guy greeted me every time I sprinted back into the building with a high five. He’s like one of those greeters at the Gap who totally loves boyfriend fit jeans on you, oh-mah-gawd. He may have just been worried I was going to pass out before we got out the kettle balls.

Do you know kettle balls? Like ugly little handbags that feel like they are full of 50lbs of sand. Like carrying sandbags out to hold down your tunnel. All of them, all at once, crammed into an ugly little round purse that you are supposed to lift as high as your head if you want cores.


We had ice at agility practice and practicing with visible icicles seems weird and wrong. Definitely wrong for Otterpop, she of the gimpy leg instead worked on one of her funny tricks, which are funny to probably only to me and her, we are easily amused by each other. This one she races in and out of my legs while I Frankenstein walk around. Can be done with or without hula hoop.

Gustavo didn’t seem too bothered by running across crunchy freezing grass, except for when he inexplicably ran away through an invisible-to-me hole in the fence when I put too much pressure on his independent 180’s instead of letting him just play for a while. I caught him by walking back to the car, getting in and starting it up. This gave him a real nice panic attack and he couldn’t find whatever little rat hole he escaped through to get back to the getaway car so he let me catch him right after that. Oh, Gustavo.


After that we had a great practice and worked on our tight decel turns. And the ice melted right when it was time to go home.