Merry Christmas!

Hello my lovely beautiful friends:

First and foremost, I hope everyone is having a beautiful holiday season and appreciating the time they have with their friends and family. Time with Mom and Dad seems so much sweeter when it’s few and far between. I’ve kept busy; mainly hustling middle aged women at the mall out of their parking spots, encouraging the love-hate relationship between my bank account and JCrew, rolling meatballs to dramatic Italian music, and making some big guido friends at the gym. I’m sure each of you can sympathize with the latter, as we don’t exactly blend in with the frail, Lululemon-clad females perspiring over their ellipticals.  However, in the past week I have learned something special: even if a tree falls on your house, your car breaks down in the middle of the main road during rush hour, and your dog throws up on your new holiday sweater, NOTHING can ruin ones holiday spirit! And if you feel your smile waver just open up and shove another mozzarella ball in your mouth.

Now I have a pretty tough act to follow here. These posts are boss. I’ve read each one at least twice; some a few more. This is a really cool thing we have going and I love feeling like I’m home with each of you for a little bit. And the inspiring bits everyone has incorporated are just phenomenal. We should write a book for Christs’ sake. FUNDRAISER!

But in all seriousness, listen up: I am going to admit this secret fetish-y idea that I want to accomplish because I have come to the conclusion I need your assistance. It’s an image that came to my mind one night in the clubhouse when I couldn’t sleep, probably because Lindsay was creepy sleep-talking. My private desire is this: to have one of my main b*tches in our ND uniform Tebow-ing on the cover of Lacrosse Magazine, June edition. And you can’t get there without blowing everyone’s minds and pulling out some big gangster win in the finals. Who isn’t sick of seeing the same darn teams grace the top of every list, every year? I know I am. Bleh, old news, dull, over it. Let US be the team everyone is talking about. I believe in EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU. Heck, I even believe in myself. I believe in our leaders and the people at this school who care about us and dedicate their time to making us better. Let’s do this for them; let’s do this for each other, lets do it because we flipping deserve it. Like Marge said, you gotta believe. I have no doubt that our hard work combined with a little Irish luck can take us ANYWHERE!

(I know we needed to watch our language so I apologize for the insinuations but I really think it hammered the point home) (Ok feel free to edit)

So, when you realize that incline 15 on the treadmill is virtually a vertical slope, and it finally dawns on you that throwing up hang cleans with bumper plates isn’t socially acceptable in a commercial gym if you have boobs, and even when your little boy cousins touch your arm at holiday parties and go “oooh biggg!”, please picture my little idea. If you’re more of a hands-on learner just take a moment and get down on one knee and rest your head on your fist. I, Kristen Suzanne Cousins, promise you this: every moment of struggle over this break will be worth it. On January 15^th, be confident that you pushed yourself every day. NO REGRETS, YEAH??? YEAH! So you all go out there and enjoy the prep work, put your heart into every workout, and know that you’re bringing your teammates and best friends closer to a National Championship with every manly grunt. 

Also follow the Cousins’ rule of exercise: every 20 minutes of activity in your last workout is equivalent to a dessert you may indulge in today. I’m kidding. If there is sugar in your kettle corn I will hunt you down and kill you.

I hope I did Christmas Day some justice. I love you all! Wish we could be together today, so I could feed your sorry Irish butts some authentic Italian food. May your smiles be as big as mine have been for the past 48 hours!

Kisses from Jersey and Juno, @kcous25

Addendum: I have really been killin it with the pull-up machine. You know its weird, but I wasn’t crazy about flopping around uselessly at the end of my freakishly long arms during weight testing. So if I can do a pull-up when we get back, each of your owes me five dollars. I’m not promising anything. All I’m saying is that my elbows aren’t working and my traps are nearing my earlobes.