In an effort to allow my persistent running injuries to heal but not abandon training altogether, I've taken on a couple of new endeavors. The one most outside of my comfort zone is Tampa CrossBoot . This is a type of training that, to quote the website, "embodies the camaraderie and team effort of fitness bootcamps and the strength and conditioning concepts of CrossFit." But since that doesn't tell you much if you're already unfamiliar with those two types of training, here are some highlights from my first class: I forgot how to jump rope. I paid for this memory lapse with 20 burpees (the penalty for each mess-up was 5 burpees. You do the math). I've since bought a jumprope so I can practice. Mountain-climbers are not meant for Floridians. I kind of liked getting dirty. All of our exercises were done outside at a local park. It felt good to not fear the dirt. I couldn't do everything (or all reps), and that was okay. People really did work at their

This morning, as I see the Tough Mudder finishing posts by friends on Facebook, I feel a tinge of guilt and a shred of shame for not having gone through with the race myself. I signed up for the race, and dragged two girlfriends in with me, on the high of another, much smaller, less intense obstacle race that I'd finished many months back. I knew at the time that I'd be running the Chicago Marathon and then the St. Pete Women's Half Marathon in the two months prior to the Tough Mudder event, but I hadn't anticipated feeling as weary and broken down as I did after the initial two races. I've never not run a race I signed up for (except in the case of an inhibiting injury), but the mere thought of struggling across monkey bars, swimming through cold mud-water, and subjecting myself to electrocution--all in the name of fun, mind you--made me feel anything but tough. And if my head wasn't in it, there'd be little hope of convincing my body through it. So I bail