Warrior of Mud

Last weekend, I crossed off a "bucket list" item by running--er, I mean walking, crawling, jogging, praying, surviving--a local Warrior Dash. It was loads of fun, even thought I didn't dash very much. Dashing is for athletes. Surviving is for folks like me.

For those of you who are not in the know, the Warrior Dash is for morons like me who think it would be fun to run through an adult-sized obstacle course which features lots of mud.

Yes, that is real mud on my bib and finisher's medal. I didn't put that mud there. It found its way onto (and into) my being. No, I am not going to clean it off. I earned that mud. Yes, I'm going to proudly display this in my office for the rest of my life. Yes, I might wear my medal all this week at work to show my warrior-ness.

Did I mention that's real mud?

Before I talk about the mud, here are some tidbits to consider before taking part in a Warrior Dash:
**When deciding to take part in such an event, it is advisable to train prior to the event.
**When deciding to take part in such an event even though there has not been any training, it is advisable to have at least some form of upper body strength.
**When decided to take part in such an event without training or upper body strength, a good sense of humor and a love for mud will go far.

It was LOTS of fun. I suppose it's because I like mud. I love mud. It's a free mud bath. It reminds me of ceramics class back in the 1980's. It's childhood, come back to life. What's not to like about mud?

Well, okay--there are a few things not to like about mud: 

(1) It doesn't taste very good. You can't avoid getting mud in your mouth at one time or another during a Warrior Dash. I got some in my mouth and it ended up in my gum. My gum crunched for the remainder of my tenure on the course.
(2) It gets in every orifice and crevice. There is no avoiding it. I have resigned myself to finding mud in my ears for the next month. Yesterday at work, a co-worker pointed out some mud on the side of my glasses.
(3) It's cold. We dashed earlier than not, which means the mud had no time to warm; hence, we oozed our way through cold mud. Takes your breath away.
(4) It's dark. You can't see what is underneath the surface. A lot of the mud obstacles were knee deep (or more) with lots of dark, murky water on top. A surprise log scared the bejesus out of me as I slogged my way through one particular mud lake. There were thoughts of snakes. At one point, I wondered how I was going to find my shoe if I had to pull my stuck foot out of the shoe to escape the grasp of the mud. Because it's dark, you can't see how deep it is. Some mud obstacles were shallow (think calf deep) and some obstacles were waist or more deep. That's a lot of darkness.
(5) It has a grip like a vice. See #4. I'm not kidding. I got stuck calf-deep in a deeper than not in a murky pool of mud. Somehow, I got my foot free but it was not without effort. I don't remember having this issue with mud as a kid. Maybe that's because mud puddles of childhood tend not to be several feet deep.
(6) It's heavy. Once the mud got in, on and stuck to my shoes, they were like bricks. No matter how hard I tried to get the mud off the bottom of my shoes, the mud hung on. That left me to walking/jogging/climbing/ crawling with weights on my feet. Having wet shoes is hard enough. Having 10 pounds of mud on each shoe is much harder.
(7) It's impossible to wash off in a pond. The "Warrior Wash" at the end of the race was not, as I had been informed, a fire hose. Instead, this course featured a pond in which you could wade. Let's face it--ponds are just big mud puddles. It was rather pointless. I used my time to pry my shoes and socks off instead of wading in a mud pond.

I'd be remiss if I didn't tell you I was terrified a few times as I traversed the grasslands and cornfields of the Cheddarlands. At one point, I was on top of an obstacle saying aloud, "Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down." I had to say it out loud because just thinking it wasn't enough. I had to convince myself I could do this as long as I didn't look down.

Finishers get medals. Here I am taking a bite of my medal. Not only is the medal cool, it serves as a bottle opener. I kid you not. Warriors must need to be able to open a beer at any given moment.

For the record, I threw my socks out and donated my shoes. I didn't feel like carrying five pound socks home, only to have the wife freak out upon seeing them. Those socks would never have found their way into the house. As for the shoes, the pond didn't get them very clean and they still weighed ten pounds each, so I donated them. I loved those shoes but they had to go. I know they will find a good home, as the race organizers clean them up and donate them to those without shoes. I've never seen such a big pile of muddy shoes in my life. (Actually, I've never seen a pile of muddy shoes in my life, so that's not saying much. Suffice it to say, the pile was taller than me. That's a lot of muddy shoes.)

Now that I've survived and I've removed 90+ percent off the mud from my being, I ask myself: Would I do this again? After all, I did it once, so it's off the bucket list.

The answer is.........

Yes. Of course I would! Next time I might train.....or, at least wear a costume. But, I'll only do another Warrior Dash if they have something better than a pond in which to wash.....and if MJagger will come along...

.....and, if I have duct tape. I'd duct tape my ears shut so there would be no mud in them. Silver duct tape. The real kind of duct tape. Warriors don't wear any of that new-fangled hot pink or patterned duct tape.
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