The wagon gets me again.

Ok, so its been a long time. I fell WAY off the wagon. I fell under the wagon, was run over by the wagon, then ran away from the wagon, then tunneled under it even further.

BUT yesterday was the day. The day to get back on the wagon. I was going to kick the wagon's ass. I went to the tractor tires down the street from my house and was going to use them instead of the box in the gym. I'm a bad ass! I don't need no stinking gym!

So those tires are TALL. TALL. But I didn't mind. I'm a warrior. Nothing can stop me. The wagon is going down. Four sets of 25? No problem. I jump, I jump again. I make it to jump #12 and almost miss it. Its ok, I can do it. I've totally got it. "Swing your arms" Coach Scott says in my head (a la Yoda). I swing, I bend, I jump and....

BAM! I smash my (already wounded) hand into the tire. It swells. It turns purple. I roll into a ball in the grass and cry. I go home, ice the hand and get drunk.

Another day off the wagon. Oh well.