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

The Hoo-Yah Sisterhood

I’ve always had a certain respect for the military. Growing up with a die-hard Army ranger dad and a long line of obscenely proud military officers in the family will do that to you. My father, I can tell you, is not your average dad, and though I may have missed out on some of those father-daughter moments I see Rick having with our daughter, I think my father successfully instilled in me a warrior spirit that has carried me through much of my life and still burns quite strong today.

My father was stationed in Panama in the 1980s. I was barely nine years old when Operation Just Cause erupted, and it was then that I truly began to understand what it means to have another person protect your freedom on a simple vow of honor, determination and brotherhood.  I suppose you don’t understand a lot about life at nine, but you know enough to appreciate the fact that the only thing standing between you and a pissed off army of jungle rebels armed with machetes and automatic weapons is a line of young soldiers just outside your back door.

I remember the very day temporary barracks were set up in empty military housing across the street from our base quarters. I sat on the curb and watched as the soldiers moved in, hauling weapons, helmets and gear I had seen all my life but had never really cared about until I saw it gripped in the hands of the soldiers who would soon use it to defend our base. The other kids cowered behind our family car, too afraid to be seen openly gawking at the new arrivals in the neighborhood. I, however, found myself completely infatuated with all the soldiers who lived there and immediately decided, shy or not, I was going to hang out across the street as much as possible.

And, so every day, I spent hours sitting in the Humvee, walking around with the soldiers’ too-big helmets on my head, watching them do PT or bringing them banana bread I learned how to bake just so I would have a reason to visit again. They, in turn, taught me about teamwork and brotherhood, ferocity and determination, bravery and dedication, adventure and the balls you need to seek it out.

So, when the mortars finally started falling and the house was shaking in the dark and the windows lit up with the sparks of war and all I could hear were the yells of men muffled by the metallic rat-a-tat-tats of gunfire in our backyard, I took comfort knowing those soldiers I had met were there standing strong and ready to do whatever it took to keep us safe.

And, they did.

I suppose that’s one reason I traded up regular old road races for adventure races. There’s nothing like working together as a team to get through any challenge facing you, and it reminds me so much of what I learned as a naive nine year old eagerly soaking up everything I saw on a military base in a hostile war zone. It’s the same spirit the military instills in its soldiers. It’s all about teamwork and brotherhood.

For me, it’s all about sisterhood. And, when I discovered The Big Hoo Yah back in August, I was determined to run it. So, I recruited two amazing women who I knew had that warrior spirit in them and would never back down from a challenge no matter how hard it tried to beat them down. Jackie and Karen joined me to form the Warrior Princesses and together we spent last Saturday showing The Big Hoo Yah what girls are really made of…and believe me, it’s definitely not sugar and spice.

The Big Hoo Yah is a Navy Seal designed adventure course with more than six miles of obstacles, most of which can only be completed with teamwork.

I have to give these two ladies major props. First, signing up to do anything with me is usually a sign of temporary insanity. My idea of fun tends to include words like adrenaline, danger, sweat, discomfort and sometimes even temporary stupidity. Second, I gave them one month to prepare for the biggest race they had ever encountered. Not exactly a lot of prep time, particularly for moms of new babies!

Here’s the thing though…women are a tough sort. We’ve got that tough chick persona in us, but it’s often buried under all this other fluff we use during our day-to-day lives. But, if you really challenge a woman to step outside her comfort zone and bring the rain…she will rise to that challenge and dominate whatever you throw at her… mud, grit, grime and all. And, I have to say, Jackie and Karen not only let loose their warrior spirit, but they dealt a major ass whooping to a race most people would avoid at all costs.

And, honestly, I couldn’t have picked two more awesomely perfect teammates (and friends). It was truly a privilege to get “intimate” with them as we battled through those 20-some obstacles.

A team is all about supporting each other and working together to make it through whatever gauntlet is thrown at your feet, and we did just that. The race started out mild enough…just several miles of rocky hills---that would have easily broken the faint hearted---mixed in with a healthy dose of bear crawls, low crawls, tires, trivia and even a brief sprint carrying one lucky teammate.

Then, the fun really started…

We had to work together to climb over drain pipes, roll a haystack down a field and back (and, if you have never had the opportunity to do this, I would not recommend it anytime soon.), move rocks, walk a balance beam without falling off, climb walls and jump over and under wood beams.

And, in truly Navy Seal style, there was the mud and water. There is nothing like swimming out into a cold lake as a unit…literally…then filling a 55-gallon barrel with water from said lake, which just happens to be sitting at the bottom of a hill. Can you say Jello legs three times without vomiting?

Of course, there was a mud pit, more walls, a sled pull, rope climb, sandbags, hot Navy Seals in pink shirts and paintballs. (To the sniper who nailed me in the right nipple. Thanks. I don’t really need two nipples. I can do just fine with one. Hoo-yah!)

But in all seriousness, there was nothing more satisfying than to cross the finish line with my teammates' hands clutched in mine, raised in victory.

Clearly, finishing The Big Hoo Yah does not put a racer in the same caliber as the Navy Seals or the Army Rangers. However, it gives you a glimpse into what you can do if you dig deep, embrace the pain and run beside your friends. Imagine what women could do if they followed that mantra every day of their lives. We’d have an awful lot of tough, cool chicks walking around, huh?

And, I think that definitely calls for one BIG “hoo-yah”!