My Old Friend Murphy

Yes, you all know him!  Everyone, I assume, has a friend named Murphy.  My pal reared his ugly head this week.  You see, I got this asinine idea that I needed to do the Grouse Grind on my birthday.  For those of you not familiar with the Grind, that sucker is a 2.9 kilometre trail up the face of Grouse Mountain commonly referred to as "Mother Nature's Stairmaster"! (part of this insane idea came from just reading the book "Wild" by Cheryl Strayed.  Chick is amazing and powerful.  I, however, am not!)   I have only climbed it once before and it wasn't easy then.  Why the hell I think I can do it now is ridiculous.  If anything I am less fit and am sporting an even larger "party bubble" (in quotes because that is not mine, I stole it from a friend) than last year.  Where is my buddy Murphy?  Well, in light of the fact that I have proclaimed my self "mountain woman' and my money sucking children have decided to come with me, I decide I better not embarrass myself more than usual and start training.  Heck, I have a month, I should be golden.  This is the part where Murph comes a knockin.  Three days into my intensive training (figure of speech, as you probably guessed) I hurt my back.  I did not just hurt the sucker, it's clearly "out" and I cannot sit down for to long without shooting pain and then walking around like the Hunchback!  I suppose the good in this is that I am standing an awful lot and that has to be burning calories.  One would think right?  (or is that offset by the medicinal wine I have been drinking?)  Two lessons learned with this one: next time I  get a wacked out idea to do something exercisy I will talk to someone rational before opening up my big trap and committing AND next year I will go back to my previous years birthday celebrations and go to Coach and buy myself a new birthday bag!