The Case of the Over-stressed

The Case of the Over-stressed Organ

It may be the end of me. Seriously.

There is a Firefighters Challenge coming up this weekend in Charlottetown. It's described as "the toughtest two minutes in sport". Firefighters, in full firefighter gear, compete through a course of various challenges. Fastest wins. GO! Carry a pack up 5 flights of stairs - then pull a rope with a coiled hose up those same 5 flights of stairs - then run down the stairs - then use a heavy mallet to knock a heavy object a certain distance - then run an obstacle course - then pull a charged (ie, ready to squirt, much hearvier) hose a long distance, then turn it on to hit a target - then dead-man lift a heavy dummy another long distance over the finish line - then collapse and hope you aren't dead. In about 2 minutes. I've been to them before and they are quite entertaining, and look physically exhausting. I mean, it took me about 2 minutes just to type that description of the challenge. And it winded me.

It may be the end of me. Seriously.

The radio station has decided to enter a team into the Thursday 'corporate' part of the competition weekend. I volunteered to be part of the team. Of course, we'll each take only one segment of the challenge, and we won't be in full gear, but still it may be the end of me. Seriously.

Of the challenges that were remaining when I was asked to join the team (read: when everyone else was asked and had refused), I chose running up the 5 flights of stairs. I think I have to carry 40 pounds. The other option was pulling the hose up using a rope. Now, I know what you're saying. Running up 5 flights of stairs isn't that difficult. And you're right. What you don't know is how out of shape I am. What none of us know is what my heart will think of all this...what's it called? Exercise?

I believe it may be the end of me. Seriously.

The reason I didn't choose pulling the rope is this: I know I can climb 5 flights of stairs. It may take me an embarrassing amount of time, and I'll more than likely throw-out my university-recreational-basketball-injured knee, but I know I'll succeed. I'm not so sure I can guarantee success in pulling the rope up 50 feet. I question my upper-body strength. To the point of risking popping my knee.

So, Friday, keep an ear out for the funeral announcements: "...suddenly, on the 4th floor of a temporary scaffold... in lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the What-Was-I-Thinking Foundation.

Update to come.