pain

I eat pain for breakfast. Okay, I don't. I drink a yummy fruit shake made in my little personal blender (best $10 I ever spent at wally world).

Dave, the other Medic on our shift, is also a personal trainer. He (and Rob) are ate up with working out (we call them Hans & Franz). Luckily we are able to harness their freakish obsession and use it for good. Dave has been making workouts for our shift every day. Full turnout gear, usually breathing air (the SCBA), doing dynamic drills situational to what we might experience in a fire. They are usually relatively had. Sometimes unbelievably hard. But always good.

Today for part of the drill Dave said our spinal cord was crushed by roof falling and we had to drag ourselves out of the building using just our arms. Like an army crawl without the legs. Even with our thick turnout jackets it tore up my elbows. The above picture is of my ELBOWS. The off-colored stuff above the pink area is not potato chips, Tamarin, it is skin. A nasty, thick as a potato chip, layer of grated off skin. It was painful, especially when I tried to wash them. They have been oozing clear goo trying to make a scab all day. Even now, 12 hours later, when I rest my elbows on my legs they leave a goo mark. Gross. But I love gross. And I love Dave's painful workout ... most days.