Tough Mudderfuckers!

Fierce look of determination before entering the starting gates.
Militant father taking picture and dispensing Ranger pep talk.

Two weeks ago, I took a jester's fall down a rocky hill while doing my 10-mile trail run and BAM!...busted my foot so badly I landed myself on a pair of crutches for a week and was still rehabbing my foot in the hotel pool less than 12 hours before my Tough Mudder start time. I had no idea if I would be able to run on it or if I would even make it through the first mile much less the entire race. However, there was absolutely no way I was going to pussy out on the one race I've been dying to do all year, and damn it, I was determined to earn my orange headband even if it meant hopping across the finish line on one foot. And, of course, my Army Ranger father was there to cheer me on in his own special way. Thirty seconds before I entered the start gates, he dropped this fatherly piece of encouragement, "Shit, Babe, either you finish this race in victory, or you don't come back at all."

I may look five years older after
running the Mudder,
but I got my headband, bitches!


No pressure, right?

But, all that drama doesn't even matter because as of Sunday, I am officially a Tough Mudder finisher. Hoo-ah! (And, as a bonus, I still have both my feet, in tact, that is.)

For those of you who are Mudder Virgins, the Tough Mudder Virginia is a 9+-mile race with 27 obstacles all strategically placed throughout a Hellish course at the Wintergreen Ski Resort. Truly, you couldn't have had a more scenic race...I mean the views from those mountains were spectacular. Sadly, though, after you've death marched up six or so ski slopes, there was a whole lot more taking your breath away than the scenery below. The Tough Mudder claims to be the toughest event on the planet, and I would wager it makes most races look like a pussy walk. The most I can say is it's the most physically challenging course I've run yet, which in my book, makes it the most awesome. I mean, seriously, how many races require you to purchase life insurance before you can complete registration. Really?!? That's a bit bad ass, I would say.

Soooo pretty. Until you climb them for three hours. : )

I've run just about all the adventure races they've had here in the DC area, but this one, by far, gave me the biggest ass kicking of them all. Literally. I have the cuts, scratches and soft-ball sized black and blue bruises to prove it, and I'm not entirely sure I've regained the full use of my muscles yet. God knows it feels like I got beat down by a wayward throng of man boys in assless hot pink jockstraps. (Much love to that team! Definitely the hottest things out there next to my husband...who rocked the Mudder in 2 hrs and 15 minutes, by the way, and then spent the next two hours helping fellow mudders scale Everest.)

Lots of balls here. Lots of balls.

I can tell you this...I grossly underestimated this race. There is absolutely nothing you can physically do to prepare for it except maybe bathing in a tub of ice and piss water and then finding the tallest, steepest ski slope in the area and running up and down the damn thing at least six times every morning. Then...just maybe...then you might be prepared for the pain you'll feel after you've run this race.

The thing about the Tough Mudder that truly makes it the craziest frickin' race on Earth is my story is just one of thousands. Tough Mudders push on no matter what stands in their way. They don't cower in the face of adversity; they overcome it. They don't leave a fellow mudder drowning in their own vomit; they pick them up and run with them on their backs. They don't whine about their pain; they sing about it and ask for more. They don't spit sweat; they swallow fear and breathe the very fire that propels them forward. They are fighters. And, mentally, they bring it---that is, the fierce determination to challenge themselves to finish.



INCOMING!!!!!
I slide like I drive apparently...

The Tough Mudder taught me many things Sunday. I learned the difference between an expert slope and a bunny slope and that by the end of the race, even the smallest slope starts to resemble something straight out of the gates of Hell (and seriously, you stop counting after the first three Death Marches anyway). I learned even though my foot was throbbing by mile 5 and so swollen after the race I could barely get my shoe off, it would feel brand new the next morning compared to all the other sore parts of my body. I learned I really don't like ice in my water, but I can appreciate the health benefits of freezing my nipples off after diving into an ice pool. I learned the only difference between a 12-foot wall and an 8-foot wall is whether there is a 6-foot tall man somewhere nearby to hoist you up to the ledge. I learned it is easier to carry a log over my shoulders rather than under my arm, and that, yes, it is totally bad ass to run with said log.

My oiled-down nemesis...Everest!

I learned what it's like to collide with a 200-pound man while playing slip 'n slide. I learned the time passes much faster when you crawl through tunnels behind a man in nothing but suspenders and jockeys with his left ass cheek poking through a tear. I learned to run on with pride when my own ass is hanging out of the holes in my pants. I learned I can hit my ankle on rocks at least 20 times before the bruises turn black. I learned to love the cold spray of a fire hose, especially when it is hitting you directly in the face while you're suspended 15 feet in the air...on a vibrating cargo net.

Running up to get electrocuted and then the finish line.
Whoop! Whoop! These are the moments when I just
love my man legs. I knew all those squats and jumps
would come in handy... 

I learned there is nothing more perfect than coming up over a hill and seeing my husband's face one mile before the finish line and knowing I've got this thing made. I learned that oil, like any good lube, can turn a good time into something freakishly memorable, especially when there are at least fifteen shirtless guys on top. I learned what it's like to be a firefighter...who was dumb enough to enter a burning building without a mask. I learned the value of electroshock therapy...it helps you cross the finish with a little extra kick in your step.

But, most of all, I learned what I think I already knew...that I am totally and completely addicted to a good 'ole fashioned, gut-wrenching, mud-sloshing, mind-boggling challenge. And, that I am just crazy enough to want to do it again. And again. And, what the Hell, again.

Tough Mudder Finisher 2021

So, to all my Tough Mudderfuckers out there...I'll see YOU next spring for another round of totally Hellish awesomeness. Hoo-ah!
__________________________

A special shout out to the runners who acted as my temporary team since I didn't come with my own and helped me over the 8 footers and 12 footer and helped me out of the ice bath when my muscles stopped responding to my brain's commands. Couldn't have done it without you.


Tough Mudder Virginia at the Wintergreen Ski Resort