I Got My Mind On My Mudder And My Mudder On My Mind

It’s that time again – Tough Mudder time.

Tough Mudder is a fun, 10-12 mile obstacle course race full of dirt, water, dirty water, ice, barbed wire, and electric shocks. Tough Mudder celebrates team work and camaraderie. It’s fun, difficult and super duper rewarding.

The last one I did, in Temecula during 2012, didn’t end so well.

Does this leg brace make my thighs look fat?

I fell off the monkey bars, hit a rock, and unknowingly sliced my knee open. Since I’d been wearing skintight black compression pants, I didn’t realize there was a gaping wound on my knee and I pushed through the pain to finish. Oops.

Do these stitches make my knee look fat?

Turns out there was also a small fracture on my kneecap. I had to wear that leg immobilizer for what seemed like foreverrrrr. And right after that, I got laid off my from my job. It wasn’t the best month.

So now I’m out for a little redemption. I’m pretty excited, yet slightly apprehensive.

Things I’m not stoked about:

Arctic Enema: the coldest thing you’ll ever experience. A giant dumpster full of ice and f*cking frigid water. You jump in, swim underwater (and under a billion pounds of ice cubes) then pull yourself out while realizing that you can’t breathe. (“Takes my breath awayyyyyy…..”)

Berlin Walls: easy for people with arm strength, but horrible for wimps like me.

Cry Baby: a new obstacle filled with “a safe tear gas-like substance, and littered with hazards along the way.” Well. I was told that there’s no crying in baseball, but it seems that crying in Tough Mudder is ok.

Things I’m totally stoked about:

Everest: a giant, slick, quarter pipe that’s WAY harder to get up than you might think. Basically you sprint at it full force, run as high upward as you can, then jump and hope a sexy muscled man at the top will grab your hands and pull you to the top. Part of the fun is watching people smack their faces against the wall and slide back down with no dignity. It’s happened to me several times.

Electroshock Therapy: scary yellow wires charged with 10,000 volts will taunt you as you dart across this final obstacle. Stings like a mofo and you hear a lot of F-bombs around here. I’m hoping that getting zapped will reset my brain and I won’t be so neurotic in the future.

The free beer at the finish line: the only thing better is the taste of victory.

Godspeed and Tronic, out. <drops mic>

I Totally Love It and F*cking Depise It: My Relationship With Running

I’ve been running pretty consistently since 1997. Sophomore year in high school, I got cut from the soccer team, so like all soccer rejects, I joined the cross country team. Thankfully my BFF also joined, and mostly we ran at the back of the pack, giggling about how bad we sucked. I continued to run during college, throughout my 20s, and now into my 30s. I’ve since logged countless pairs of shoes, 4 marathons, 4 half marathons, 3 Tough Mudders, and a handful of smaller road races. All of these experiences have led me to one conclusion:

Running f*cking sucks. And it’s the most amazing thing on earth. A beautiful oxymoron.

On Good Days:

  • I have cotton under my feet as I prance from cloud to cloud with a blissful invincibility coursing through my body.
  • A 3 miler turns into a 5 miler.
  • Time flies by in a blur of awesome music as the miles gloat effortlessly into space.
  • I smile at everyone I pass by, wanting some of my happy to be absorbed into them.
  • I’m pretty sure Nike is going to call and ask me to model their new shoes in a print campaign.
  • I wonder how quickly I can train for an ultra marathon.
  • I want to work at Runners World and loudly declare that running will solve all the problems in this world.
  • I’m fairly certain I could keep pace with the Kenyans in the marathon.

On Bad Days:

  • I wonder how my shoes suddenly weigh 10 pounds more today.
  • There’s an invisible forcefield that pushes me backwards while tightly grasping my thighs.
  • A 5 miler turns into a 3 miler.
  • Curse words escape my lips in rapid succession.
  • I growl at everyone I pass by, wanting them to suffer as much I am.
  • There’s a demon in my head telling me that I should just quit.
  • That demon also tells me that my ass will always be fat.
  • I wonder if I fake an ankle injury how quickly I can bum a ride back to my apartment.
  • I’m pretty sure the sidewalks keeps regenerating because I’ve been running along this same awful stretch for at least 4 hours now.

I’ve also been thinking about WHY I run. I’ll certainly never win any races or look like Jessica Biel. So what am I running toward (or away from)? Some of my friends run so they can eat whatever they want. Some do it for the endorphin rush, or because it helps clear their mind. Me, I’m not really sure why I run. But if I have to venture a guess, I would say for the free beer.