2011 Year in Review

Well, my fellow Aggressives, 2011 is coming to a close and with it a multitude of stories, experiences, wins, and losses.  OK, so more losses than wins... fine, no wins but plenty of "Thanks for Racing with Other People Who Also Did Not Win" medals.  Whatever, lots of stories created, lots of experiences made, lots of character building built... you ever notice that the only people who are busy building character are those people, let's call them "Us," who never, ever win?  Winners must be very boring people because they lack all that character we were busy building while losing to them.  Apparently character building makes you slow.

I digress.

I figured that before we take ourselves into the 2012 race season, a season to which I am already booking events (heck, I already have races planned for 2013, which shows a level of dedication I was unaware I had, or a certain level of psychosis which my doctor keeps warning me about... hmmmm), we should look back at the past 12 months of racing with a final...

That's right, folks.  You asked for it and we (we being me, there's no one else, unless you count the voices in my head) here at AgeAggressively aim to please.  Well, no one really asked for this, but I did ask my dog if it was a good idea and she wagged her tail.  Confirmation enough for me!   Let's review what we liked, disliked, and learned in 2011!

*The following ratings are on a scale from zero - ten: 0 being pure suck, 10 being unadulterated awesomeness, with a average of 5, which I guess could be called purely unadulterated or, maybe, awesomely sucky?  Either way, these ratings are based on a highly scientific ratings methodology which took nearly tens of seconds to create.  The score will be an aggregate of ratings based on race organization, course, food, agreeable weather, personal opinion, and whether or not I was "pissy" that day.

JANUARY - 30TH Annual Hangover Classic 10K

If you like running a poorly marked course, then this is the course for you.  If you like having no snacks or water waiting for you at the end of the race, then this is the course for you.  If you don't like those things just mentioned, steer clear of this event.  Ugh.  Good race to start with because I learned early what race organizers shouldn't do.  Also, I learned what racers shouldn't do.  Namely, this race.

RATING:  2.0

FEBRUARY - Half at the Hamptons

February is cold.  The beach is windy and cold.  People who run in windy, cold weather are insane.  That being said, this was a good half marathon.  The course was very well marked; the organizers were very organized; the volunteers were very volunteery.  Plenty of food and drink at the end of the race.  Professionally timed.  All-in-all, a great half which I look forward to repeating in 2012, but without the agonizing, performance-reducing ITB issue.  Made my very bitchy and, although the course is not at fault for my injury, bitchiness makes me irrational.  So I am forced to blame everything but my own lack of training preparedness.  Rule number 1: It's someone else's fault.

RATING:  7.0

MARCH - The Traditional Hynes Road Race 5-miler

Lessons learned: Do not go out drinking the night before a road race, even if it is an Irish road race.  Flat and fast course = good.  It's through Lowell = bad.  Well organized with timers at each mile = good.  Each mile is in Lowell = bad.  The finish line is at a bar = good.  The bar is in Lowell = bad.  Summary: Fun day of racing even if it was Lowell.

RATING:  5.0

APRIL - Groton Road Race 10K

I love Groton, and now I love it even more.  This race was well organized with lots of vendors.  Vendors means free stuff, chotsky, schwag.  Free stuff = good.  They also had bands playing.  The race organizers closed all the roads to vehicular traffic (read "drivers") for this 10K which left us runners with 6.2 miles of uninterrupted rolling hills.  I am looking forward to repeating this race.  I would have given this race a better rating but Stroller Man passed me on the hills.  I deduct points for a wounded ego.

RATING:  8.5

MAY - Tough Mudder at Mount Snow 10+ miler

WOOOOO!!!!!  I.  Am.  A.  Mudder!  I have an orange headband!  I had not had this much fun in a looooong time!  So much fun that every sentence will end this way!  Excited!  Pumped!  Ebullient?!  Um.. um.. WOOOOOO!  Where else you gonna go to enjoy ten miles of muddy mountain climbing, muddy trail running, and muddy obstacles mixed with freezing cold water?!  I LOVED this event!  Organizers get a 10!  Racers get a 10!  The mountain gets a 10!  10's for everyone!  Bring on Tough Mudder 2012!

RATING: WOOOO!!!

MAY - Hoppin' Mad Mud Run 10K

2011 was the first year for this event so I will try to be cognizant of this fact.  The combination of road and trail was very nice.  The surrounding area was very nice.  Running in this area was very nice.  It was all very nice.  Um.... they should have left this race as a very nice 10K instead of trying to make it an obstacle course.  The obstacles were meh.  A few were fun but most were meh.  The final mud pit was fun but mud pits are suppose to be fun.  You would have to fill it with leeches for it to be not fun and even then you would still be splashing in mud, which is fun.  Worst of all, some of the timing chips did not work.  This means I was not in the results for the race, which is like saying I did not race, that I was DNF.  I called them with my bib number and time, but I am still not in the results.  Ignore racers at your own peril.

RATING: 2.5

JUNE - Ruckus Boston Obstacle 4-milerFun 4+ miles = good.  Some obstacle nets were ripped = bad.  Some obstacles were original = good.  Some obstacles were dumb = bad.  I lapped people in the heat ahead of me = good.  I was lapped by a 60 year old woman = bad.  I made it into the Champion's Heat = good.  I was lapped by the 60 year old during the Champion's Heat = bad.  They had plenty of snacks post race = good.  The Junior Ruckus, according to my kids, was too easy = bad.  Will I do this race again?  Probably.  It was still loads of fun, and that = good.

RATING: 8.5

JULY - Take the Lake 5KWill my grading system be unduly influenced by stroking my ego?  Do I play favorites if I happen to set a new PR?  You betcha.  This race had all the makings of a great run.  The weather was perfect (well done organizers).  The course was extra flat (kudos organizers).  You had timers at each mile celebrating my Olympian-like speed (congrats organizers).  I set my best 5K PR (yay me).  I will have to take a few points away due to the young runner vomiting all over himself in front of me (gross organizers).

RATING: 8.0

AUGUST - Spartan Sprint 5K

I have nothing to say to you.  I spent a year waiting for you and you leave me because of a silly hurricane.  You always said that nothing could come between us, that we would always be together, but the moment Irene comes blowing into town you cancel our date without a moment's hesitation.  Sure, you said it was for my own good.  Sure, you said it was to protect me.  I know better.  I've met races like you before, fill my head with dreams of glory only to dash them to the rocks when something big comes to town.  You and me are through.  Through!  We'll never... what's that?  You can't wait to see me in August 2012?  You love me, you really love me!

RATING: N/A

RATING for hurricane:  0.0

SEPTEMBER - Wallis Sand Sprint Triathlon

Shall I regale you with tales of sheer fantasticness?  Shall I shine upon you the greatness that is me?  No?  Good, because I have absolutely nothing with which to back either of those up; but, what I do have is a new love: triathlons.  Where did I find this new love?  No, not in a dark alley.  I found it at this race.  I found nothing wrong with this triathlon.  Nothing.  Weather was perfect.  The course was fun and pretty.  The organizers and volunteers were helpful, informative, supportive, and friendly.  There was LOTS of food to enjoy post-race.  Oh, I must not forget Nuvision Action Image who provided excellent photos from the day!  This race was what the 30TH Annual Hangover Classic 10K in January was not; simply put, Organized Awesomeness!

RATING: 10.0

OCTOBER - MetroDash Boston

This event was almost great.  The obstacles were almost original and fun.  I almost gave you a good rating.  Almost.  Almost because of two reasons: First, your champion heat was only for contenders who could sign up for the earliest heat.  Therefore, the champions heat was not for champions, but for people who could get there early enough to run that heat.  Second, the 2012 race will not have any heats open after 12:00 for people who can't make it to the morning heats, namely me.  It will only be for service people.  Don't get me wrong, I think it's great that you are dedicating heats to our heroes.  Kudos!  They deserve it.  But to not have any afternoon heats for the racers who want to support your event?  See?  Just almost, that's all you'll get.  Rule number 2: It's all about me.

RATING: 4.5

NOVEMBER - Windham Turkey Trot

This is becoming a tradition and a good one.  Sometimes helping others takes precedence over pace and place, especially when 100% of the proceeds goes to charity.  Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

RATING: 11.0

DECEMBER - Santa's Toy Trot 6-miler

Have I mentioned yet how my grading system is directly impacted by how well I do?  Cuz it is.  Have I stated that near perfect weather will sway my grading decisions?  Cuz it will.  The race was on a sunny, breezy, 40-ish day, and I set my best 10K PR.  That's like doing extra credit.  Plus, and this will always bring up your grade, the event was gathering toys for needy children.  Needy children will always garner points with the Awwwww factor.  Throw in timers at each mile and you're golden.  I will be forced to deduct points on the post-race snack factor, though, because they were not snack-tastic.

RATING: 7.5

There you go, Aggressives!  Twelve months of racing with twelve months of in-depth, well thought out reviews, observations, and advice drivel and nonsense.  I hope you found 2011 motivational because a new year of training, cycling, swimming, climbing, running, falling, hurting, and loving it awaits you in 2012!

I would like to extend my warmest thanks to our fellow Aggressives who willingly joined me on this blog to read about my ongoing adventures.  I am overwhelmed by your support and undone by your Aggressive Aging!  When I started this blog I never thought that it would have such a fan base.  Who knew that this fun, little blog would garner so much support?  We started with maybe five fans at the beginning of the year and by years end we have almost tripled it, not counting those people who accidentally clicked on "subscribe here."  That's a 200% increase in readership!  Silver lining, baby, glass half full!  Thank you one and all for a fantastic year and I hope to see you out there with me for the 2012 racing season!  Seriously, no excuses this time.  Try something new.  Climb a wall.  Jump through fire.  Anything.  I'm lonely.

Stay Aggressive, my friends.  Stay Aggressive!

Oh, before I forget.  Look for me during your races.  Come over and say, "Hey."  I love to meet like-minded Aggressives.  I will be the one wearing this for every 2012 race (rules and functionality permitting, of course).

Who's ready for the 2012 season?

Me.

** If you missed past Aggressiveness, click around ageaggressively.blogspot.com and be up-to-date.  If you want to be in the know, sign up to get my words of wisdom e-mailed to you.  It's like having your own personal training coach and training partner, except without the professional training, knowledge, and expertise that is usually expected with those things.  I like to call them incidentals.

Brick Training (part 1): It's for Winners

I officially started my brick training for the 2012 triathlon season.  Oh yeah, who's ahead of the game?  Me. That's who.  Damn straight.  Ahead.  Of.  The.  Game.  Me.  Winner.  You?  Not so much.  In case you are unfamiliar with brick training, unlike those of us "in the know", brick training is practicing two or more activities, one after the other.  For triathletes it usually means going for a run or ride after a swim, or running after cycling, etc.  This allows our bodies to become accustomed to the stress placed upon it by the different athletic disciples contained within a triathlon.  In layman's terms, it will help make us better triathletes.  Since I am a well-seasoned* triathlete, I can concur that brick training is a complete necessity to triathlon glory.

So let me reiterate:  I have started my brick training for the 2012 season this week, and I included all three elements of the race.  Where it is very early in the 2012 season, it being 2011, I thought it would be wise to start easy.  I didn't want to go too far too fast and risk injury this soon.  I have a whole new year coming for that.

I began with an easy half mile swim in the pool.  I did not hold a competitive pace.  It was relaxed, steady, but brimming with confidence.  After the swim*, I joined some friends for a brisk 5-miler.  We kept a strong 7:30 pace along our route, which was just enough to keep the blood pumping, and the timing* was perfect because it allowed me to finish up with an hour indoor cycling class.  Cycling is where I feel most comfortable.  I allowed myself to open up a bit more on the bike than I did with the other two disciplines and really hammer the pedals.

Obviously the training season is not in full swing but I am pleasantly surprised that I was able to complete a strong round of brick training this early into it.  I can only hope that the ease I felt this week and the strength I had throughout my training session will be an indicator of my training sessions to come, and my overall 2012 season.  Who's ready for the 2012 season? 

I am.  That's who.

* Editors note: Please be aware that this man is an idiot.  There was a span of six hours between his swim and his run.  Also, there was a span of five hours between running and cycling.  He has never completed real brick training and probably never will.  He has no idea what he is talking about.  I am surprised that he managed as well as he did over the course of a day.  Any expert triathlon advice he gives is usually devoid of any facts or real life experiences.  I mean, how much advice can he really give?  He's only done one triathlon.  Well-seasoned by arse.  Who's not ready for the 2012 season?  Him.  That's who.

Foot Fetish (part 1)

I can't run in sneakers.  Wait, scratch that... I won't run in sneakers.  I use to run in them until I joined an underground, mysterious, evil cult hellbent on the dismantling and utter destruction of the sneaker industry.  That's right, I became (cue the ominous music - dum dum DUM!) a minimalist runner.  No, that doesn't mean I try to run as little as possible; although at the beginning that did cross my mind.  I quit running in sneakers.  Cold-turkey.  No hypnosis.  No patch.  No gum.  Cold-turkey, and there is no going back.

KSOs:  my first pair.
This was my gateway shoe.

It's been over a year since I quit my traditional running sneaker for my Vibram FiveFingers, since I became a minimalist, since I went from running 3 miles a month to running at least 20 a week.  My Vibrams, dirty, torn, and well-worn, sit next to my Mizunos, which have been staring longingly at me.  I can almost hear them whispering, "Run with us, run with us... feel our cushiony embrace, our secure laces... come back to us..."  If I did I would probably roll an ankle.  Mizunos are vindictive like that; but not my foot gloves, my toe shoes, my precious, smelly Vibrams.

They love me like no other, but, like most new relationships, there were some hurdles to overcome, some challenges faced, some pain endured.  Free runners all advise that you run much shorter distances then you usually do when you first start with minimalist shoes (or barefoot). They're right.  Running less wasn't a problem for me.  If I ran any less I'd be sitting.  So I started running up to a mile at a time and, trust me, that was enough.  By the end of the first week my calves, achilles, and arches of my feet hated me.  By the end of the first month I didn't know if I made the correct choice because my legs and feet hurt so badly.  By the end of my first season, I was hooked on Vibrams.  The initial pain was gone and replaced with a sense of purpose and a goal.  If I can move away from sneakers, could I move away from footwear altogether?  Could I go "pure"?  Could I be entirely "free"?  Could I use more "double quotes" in my sentences?  Only time will tell.

KSO Treks: one of my current pairs.
Used for obstacle races.  Receives
the most "What the hell are those?"

Before I have all the haters and nay-sayers start in on me about the dangers of minimalist running... that there is not enough evidence supporting its benefits... blah-blah-blah, let me start by saying, "It's not for everyone."  With that said, if you continue to berate us who are revolutionaries free-thinkers freakin' awesome bucking conventional running wisdom and throwing aside the best sports and physiological scientific studies Big Sneaker can buy, I will be forced to caress you with my calloused toes.

Seriously, it's not for everyone.  If you love and are successful running in your child slave labor asian foot-binding corporate slave high-end, shock absorbing sneaks, all the power to you.  Run and run well, my shod friend; but, if you, like me, find it uncomfortable running  in those thick, heavy, clod-hoppers, or running with back, knee, and ankle pain is not your cup o' tea, and long for a deeper, more meaningful - nay, spiritual, connection with the terrain o'er which we run, then maybe minimalism is the path for you.

Bikilas: my other current pair.
Used for road races.  Voted "coolest"
footwear by kids living in my house.

I feel I must warn you, potential devotee, before you dash toes first into your nearest foot glove: it's all or nothing.  You cannot bounce between (or at least I have not been able to) modern sneaker running and minimalist running.  The two, like oil and water, like women and logic, like men and not knowing when to shut up, cannot exist together.  I've tried and failed spectacularly.  I moved back to sneakers when I broke my virgin pair of Vibrams and could not run a mile without tripping and stumbling.  I needed to remove and carry my sneakers just to finish that run.  Yes, even bare-footing was better than sneaker running.

I was a changed man and to this day I only use minimalist footwear.  Moving forward, I might not always use Vibram FiveFingers.  I may try some of the other minimalist flavors and see how they feel.  I may venture out with more barefoot running because who doesn't want to feel the almost sensual touch of hot pavement, gravel, and glass shards on their bare skin?

Either way, one thing is for sure:  Vibrams, you complete me.

The People I've Met Along the Way (Part 3)

Sandbaggers:

You know them.  They say they can't, but do, and do well.  They cry lame, they lag behind, they feign weakness, inexperience, or lack of stamina; until it matters, then pull ahead with the power of a locomotive.  They are the people who try to catch you during the race but fail over and over again, until there's a crowd.  Then they pass you with a smile and a nod.  Damn you, Sandbaggers.  Stop making us feel good about ourselves until the finish line is in sight, when you drop your facetious bag and gallop by stomping our misguided pride into the ground.





Costumers:
It's becoming more and more common in the racing world, well, at least in the world where I race.  As we gather at the starting line you look around and take in the spandex tights, running shorts, wicking shirts, and an adult wearing a banana costume...?  And a ninja?  A banana ninja?  It isn't October.  It isn't Halloween; but that doesn't stop these costumed crusaders from breaking from tradition and running in full costumed gear.  It does make the races more lively and fun, seeing these ridiculous people racing among everyone else, until Banana Ninja passes you.



Old Friends:
Typically I like to comment on the funny and/or annoying people I meet along the way; but recently I was reminded of another category... friends.  Thanks, TJ, for reminding me of a bonus to this Aggressiveness: getting together with people we have not seen in a long time.  Racing has allowed me to meet up with several friends from my past, people whom I have not seen since high school which was waaayyyyy back then.  It reminds us that time and space may separate us, but history and shared experiences still bond us.  It reminds us that, although our paths have diverged long ago, our commonalities and endeavors will bring us together.   It reminds us that through the hustle and bustle of life we still manage to find little pieces of joy and happiness spent with old friends.  Except for friends who are faster than me.  That's just annoying and not at all funny.

Metro Dash Boston 2011: Jockeying for Position

This was it, the Final obstacle course of the season (unless I find another one before the end of December which will make this the Second to Final course, which doesn't have the same oomph as saying Final... Final has a sort of... finality to it, don't you think?). This event was a different take on obstacles courses. Far less running and, by the end of it, much more **** this is heavy.

A group of us went down to the race and we all had the same initial thought: "This is a short course." It is called a Dash and they meant it. Short and fast. The course, consisting of 25+ obstacles, only took up maybe a third of a football field. We do at least a 5k course so, clearly, this will be easy, a breeze, a walk-through. This will be no problem. Little did we know how far up our collected arses our heads were.

We went to the holding tank and waited for our heat to start. As we milled around we noticed that MetroDash was releasing groups of 4 racers at a time. The four competitors would line up next to each other at the starting line, stamp the ground with their feet, shake their bodies to loosen up and relieve tension before the race, and look over the line at each other, and it hit me. This reminds me of a horse race; maybe one of those steeple horse races where they have to jump over walls and hurdles and stuff. Yes, exactly like that, but with no jockies or riding crops or, well, horses. Time to put on your Imagination Caps, Aggressors, because it's time for the Metro Derby.

We have Mid-Life Crisis, Whitey McWhiskey, Only Dates Crazies 2, and Illustrious lining up at the gate. Fine looking group, they are. Did you know that Mid-Life Crisis was the original Only Dates Crazies? They changed his name when Only Dates Crazies 2 came onto the scene to avoid confusion in the betting booths and it's probably for the best with that one ready to be put out to pasture. Whitey McWhiskey, who originally was a plowhorse, has made some amazing strides in the last few months, shedding some of his excess weight and leaning up for the 2012 race season. That one may have some surprises under his saddle. Of course, no one can confuse the mustang of the group. Illustrious has put on some superior showings in the past few months and we fully expect big things from him here today.

They are ready for their heat. The starting gun fires and they're off.

Illustrious takes a short lead out of the gates but is followed closely by Only Dates Crazies 2. Mid-Life Crisis and Whitey McWhiskey trailing slightly behind.

They hit the Rope Ladder Climb and it's Illustrious who makes it to the top and down first, but only by seconds. All four are off and running to the second challenge.

Illustrious grabs the rope for the Push-Pull weight sled and fumbles his grip. The other three have lined up and it's Whitey McWhiskey pulling a quick lead as he easily pulls the weight sled toward him across the uneven pavement. Looks like Illustrious and Only Dates Crazies 2 are having some problems with the weight sled, folks, maybe they should hit the gym more, and Whitey McWhiskey is now in front with Mid-Life Crisis trailing a close second. Whitey increases his lead with a stunning sled performance as he crouches in and pushes his sled back to the line. Illustrious and Crazies fall completely behind.

Illustrious and Crazies make it to the Tractor Tire Flips and watch as Whitey effortlessly tosses the huge tire out and back to the starting position. Mid-Life is doing surprisingly well for his advanced age, and, OH!... Looks like Illustrious and Crazies have just crashed their tires together and they're spinning out of control. That'll set them back a few seconds. Whitey is the clear winner at this event and he is first to the High Walls and Tunnel; but look, Illustrious has finished his tire and is picking up speed and has caught Whitey on the Wall. Mid-Life and Crazies are hot on their heels! Now it's neck and neck as all four are over the first wall and down they go through the tunnel... and it's Illustrious, Mid-Life, and Crazies pulling a slight lead on Whitey, who appears to have gotten stuck. It's a race again as all four hit the second High Wall and round the corner to the 20' Cargo Net.

Looks like Illustrious and Mid-Life are climbing neck and neck, then Crazies, then Whitey. Whitey is falling behind now and Crazies is looking up with a mixture of anger and resentment as Illustrious and Mid-Life make it over the top and are on their way down the other side.

Illustrious hits the ground running and enters the Box Jumps. His longer legs and youthful physique are starting to give him the clear advantage over Mid-Life's stubby legs and advanced doughyness as he hops up and down over the taller and taller platforms. Crazies has made it back into the race, catching Mid-Life mid-jump, and Whitey has fallen to the back of the pack.

It's Illustrious first to the next obstacle as he scoops up the 30lb medicine ball and, hugging it to his chest, realizes that carrying stuff while running is hard and this is heavy and he really needs to hit the gym more! He turns at the line and heads back to the starting position to find that Mid-Life and Crazies are hot on his heels, each carrying the ball on their shoulders. Whitey has just made it to the medicine balls.

It's still a close race. Illustrious has grabbed his pair of weights first with Mid-Life and Crazies breathing down his neck. All three are sprinting the dumbbell shuttle run to the line and back, with Illustrious still maintaining a short lead. Mid-Life is still holding strong and it looks like Crazies is starting to slow. Ilustrious and Mid-Life drop their weights and enter the Over/Unders. Illustrious pulls a short lead as he hops over and crawls under the hurdles. Despite his dwarfishness, Mid-Life is now matching Illustrious's speed and Illustrious gets to the Hill Run only a step ahead of this aging aggressor. They are up and over the ramped balance beams and enter the next stage, the Farmer's Walk, in a dead heat. Looks like another grab and carry with Mid-Life, already use to carrying extra weight, having the clear advantage over Illustrious. Grabbing the pair of 35lb kettlebells, they shuttle out and back, and, YES, Mid-Life has pulled a small lead on Illustrious as they run to the Monkey Bars! Crazies has entered the Farmer's Walk and Whitey McWhiskey has fallen completely behind.

Not to be outdone by this AARP member, Illustrious swings quickly from bar to bar and catches Mid-Life before they enter the next stage... and it's Illustrious over the scaffolding and 8' foot chain link fence first. Being taller and younger and, to be honest, much more attractive, has its benefits in these races. Looks like Mid-Life got caught up in the chain link fence and Crazies is now hot on his heels. Illustrious has already made it to the other side of the fence and has cleared two 4' walls well before the other three. Illustrious goes for the next obstacle, grabs the 40lb sandbag, hoists it onto his shoulders, and does another shuttle run. Mid-Life and Crazies are picking up their sandbags and Illustrious is running to the Low Hurdles. He makes it ungracefully through the hurdles and dives to the ground, rolling under the Low Crawl. Mid-Life and Crazies are finishing the low hurdles and leaving no room for mistakes by Illustrious. Whitey is several furlongs back.

Illustrious picks up the first object, a sledgehammer, and starts running to the turn around point. He turns and Mid-Life and Crazies, carrying their hammers, are back in the race! Illustrious drops his hammer, grabs the second object - a car tire, and runs out and back again, and only seconds ahead of the other two. Our favorite mustang is definitely feeling the pressure now and is sprinting. Without bothering to look back, he makes it quickly over the Balance Beams, through the Window Jump, and dives back to the ground, crawling under the Black Hole.

With only two obstacles left it looks like Illustrious will finish first. He is looking confident, but tired, as he grabs the second to last obstacle. He has the log firmly on his shoulder and is keeping a strong pace out to the line and back; but, wait.. what's this? Mid-Life has closed the distance between himself and Illustious and has grabbed his log, too. This is turning out to be a close race, folks! Illustrious has dropped his log and is sprinting toward the finish line. Mid-Life has dropped his and is trying to catch our marvelous mustang! Illustrious is over the final hurdle and has crossed the finish line with Mid-Life crossing only seconds later! What a great race, fans! Who knew the old horse had it in him to catch the young stallion! They must be putting EPO in his morning feedbag. They are congratulating each other on a well run race and are applauding the efforts of Crazies 2, who has just crossed the line, and Whitey, who had made a valiant effort, has now crossed the line, too. Well done, racers, well done!

We must not fail to mention one other racer here today. He is definitely the Dark Horse of the group, he being new to racing, and was not expected to win, place, or show. However, he did finish and finish well, and has made great strides to being a powerhouse in the racing world. Skeptics had their doubts with this aging beast of burden; but he is turning out to be a very able athlete indeed.

Until next time racing fans.

Competitors in the MetroDerby - but who is who?

Final Results

NAME                         TIME       OVERALL PLACE
Illustrious                       8.16.4                27th
Mid-Life Crisis              8.28.4                35th
Only Dates Crazies 2     8.43.4                47th
Whitey McWhiskey     10.05.4              132nd
The Dark Horse          16.06.4               389th

Well, Aggressors, the race was quick, short, and, now that we know better, challenging. The chest thumping before the race was unfounded. From start to finish our heart rates were spiked. It was uncomfortable. Most of the time it made me realize how far away from 20 years old I really am. More importantly, it reminded me that it's the differences in these races that make them fun. One major criticism: Get it out of the parking lot and into a field. The dust from the lot was thick and choking. We probably hacked for an hour after we finished due to the dust. It's hard to do your post-race manly bravado strut around the ladies if you keep doubling over from couging fits and, apparently, flinging phlegm is not sexy.

Wallis Sands Sprint Triathlon 2011: Tri, tri again

Being a newbie to the sport, and not having another triathlon to compare it to, I won't be able to give you an experienced review of the Wallis Sands Sprint Triathlon. However, using my own particular talents and keen powers of observation, I will be able to paint for you, my fellow Aggressives, a picture of my amateur stumbling.

I woke up at 4am the morning of the race. It was dark. It was cold. I was cranky. It was an excited sort of cranky, though; the kind of cranky you had as a kid on Christmas morning ... you knew something awesome was waiting for you, but you also knew you were getting socks. Having already packed my bag of essentials (i.e all the gear, clothes, and snacks I would need for the race), the night before, I was ready to begin my excursion into the unknown. My bike was racked and I was driving.

The first thing I noticed when I arrived at the beach were the bikes...and they were beautiful. You had your high-end road bikes and your higher-end tri-bikes. You had every frame imaginable from aluminum to full carbon to titanium. Don't even get me started on the wheel sets... mmmmmmmm.... If you don’t appreciate bicycles then you simply won’t understand me but, needless to say, there was ample amounts of cycle-porn to bring any enthusiast to climax.

Um... yeah... so... onto the race.

Transition 0: Prepping:
I quickly busied myself with setting up my transition area. For the unlearned, the transition area is where you go to change, or "transition," from one stage to the next. Mainly, it's where all your stuff waits for you as you change from stage to stage. Being unlearned myself, setting up meant looking around at other people and copying what they were doing. Unfortunately, I appeared to be in the Unlearned section, because everyone around me was looking to each other for advice. I was not alone.

Stage 1: Not Drowning
I donned my wetsuit and walked down the beach to the starting line. Some races start with a run to the water but this was a start in waist deep water, so we waded in. You could feel the energy sizzling in the air as the athletes readied themselves. The laughter was replaced with controlled, pressured silence as each person waited for the signal to start. The wind blew. A seagull cried. A dog barked. The starting gun went off. I pee'd in my wetsuit.

My heat was making a mad, thrashing and splashing dash into the first stage of the race. Off we went to the first buoy and I was doing fine. I promised myself I would not try to compete with the other swimmers. I would swim my pace, not theirs. I would not... WHAT THE HELL! SOMEONE KICKED ME! UGH, THEY KICKED ME AGAIN! I swallowing salt water and was now most definitely, probably, drowning. I was warned that the swimmers often get kicked and punched during the swim stage due to the nature of the sport but I was not ready for the abuse. It set me off. My pace was gone. My technique was lost... and so help me God I will drown the next person who kicks me... OW!! DAMMIT!

I was able to regain my buoyant grace under fire and continue on with something resembling swimming. Months are training down the drain. I was at the end of my pack. People from the following heat were passing me. It could only be more embarrassing if they were wearing Hello Kitty floaties while doing it. I suck at this point and it hasn't even been 10 minutes. I rounded the second buoy and swam straight for the shore. I hit the beach, started to pull off my wetsuit, and ran into the first transition.

Swim Stage:
Distance = .34 mile / Pace = sllooowwww / Time = 12:40 / Rank = 198 of 311

Transition 1: Wetsuit Challenged
I'll be short and to the point: Sit down to take your wetsuit off. At least do this if it's your first time. I tried to be cool like everyone else and rip off my suit with the speed and grace of a seasoned veteran but all I managed to do was almost fall forward and smash my head on the pavement. Third of the race done and I’m already a danger to myself. What joys will the rest of the day bring? Once the wetsuit came off, getting into bike mode was quick and easy. Time to ride like the wind!

Stage 2: Chasing Bunnies
Moving from swimming to cycling was a first for me. I never did any brick training in preparation for the race because I apparently know better than all those “triathletes” who “race” “often.” What do they know? Turns out, lots. Now I know why it’s important. I was still breathing heavy when I hit the pedals and I felt sluggish on the bike. My legs were numb and it took 3 miles to feel quasi-normal again. During the first 3 miles I was passed by men and women of all ages who clearly believe in brick training. I was OK with this, until the $10000 Club passed me. I can take being passed by the Oldies but Goodies (AARP members). I can stomach being chicked (passed by women). I detest being passed by cyclists who own bicycles that cost $10000 or more. It’s an ego thing (and a jealousy thing... their bikes are prettier). It was time to play a serious game of Catch the Bunny.

If anyone was listening to me at this point in the race they would have thought me insane. I kept chanting “Catch the bunny” over and over again... for the remaining 12 miles... out loud... and cackled every time I caught one. Occasionally there was an F-bomb thrown in, “F***ing BUNNY,” as some particularly petulant bunny passed me. On the up side, I was able to catch several in the $10000 Club by the end of the cycling stage. On the down side, they still have $10000 bicycles; but I have my pride... and that’s still not enough to get me a new $10000 bicycle. Effing bunny.

Cycling Stage:
Distance = 15 miles / Pace = 21.1mph / Time = 41:07 / Rank = 43 of 311

Transition 2: Vibram Challenged
Bike on rack. Check. Helmet off. Check. Sitting down. Check. Bike shoes off. Check. Vibrams on.... Vibrams on... Vibr... dammit... Vibra... damMIT... frickin‘ toes... where are my frickin‘ toes? It took me two minutes to put on my shoes. Two minutes. Put your shoes on. See? You’re done. Me? Two minutes. I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. Screw it. We’re running.

Stage 3: Getting Chicked AARP-Style
Moving from swimming to cycling was odd. Going from cycling to running was an out of body experience. Unlike exiting the swimming stage, I was not out of breath going into the run. My lungs were open. My head was clear. My feet were being controlled by somebody else. I knew they were moving but I didn’t feel anything. It felt like I was in someone else’s mind watching them run from inside their head. Either I have finally lost my mind or I’m having a stroke. If it’s the latter, I better finish the race first. A mile and a half in I regained feeling. Great! Not a stroke; just going crazy. With my feet back under my command I was finally able to pick up pace and it felt surprisingly comfortable. I passed some runners who started the stage before me. I was strong. I was confident. One mile to go! (“Hoo Hoo!”) What’s that sound? (“Hoo Hoo!”) It’s getting louder and louder. (“Hoo Hoo!”) It’s coming from behind me! I looked over my shoulder and saw a woman in her sixties barreling down on me. That “Hoo Hoo” was her rhythmic breathing as she crushed racer after racer, including me. Try as I might I could not catch this energetic elder, this swift senior, as she ran ahead, crushing others along the way. There was no discounting that senior citizen... discount... senior citizen... discount... the jokes only get worse.

Keeping my own pace I rounded the final bend and had the finish line in my sights. I signed up for this race 6 months ago and it was now coming to the end. I picked up my pace and sprinted the final 50 feet across the finish line. The MC announced my name as I completed the race. It felt good. I felt good.

Running Stage:
Distance = 5k / Pace = 6:59 / Time = 20:56 / Rank = 47 of 311

Conclusion
This race was a great way to start my triathlete journey. I don’t know how other triathlons will be but this was a blast. We swam in an ocean that was calm and comfortable. We rode and ran over a very flat, fast course. It was well organized, well staffed, and the post-race was well fed. The volunteers were integral in keeping any confusion down to a minimum and they made it a great race and a great day. I will definitely do this race again in 2012. Next year I will have learned from my mistakes. Next year I will be faster and stronger. Next year I will do brick training and master swim lessons and longer scheduled rides. Next year... is really far away and all that sounds like a lot of work. Maybe I’ll worry about it next year.

Final Time = 1:19:40
Final Place = 76 of 311

The Art of Not Drowning

Swimming is the primary reason people refrain from triathlons.

"Run? Sure, I can run. I have feet to run," people will say.
"Bicycling? Of course I can ride! I have legs for pedaling," people will also say.
"Swim? Do I look like I want to drown? Maybe if I had gills..." those same people will also say. (OK, no one actually said anything about gills, but it would come in real handy during a swim. On second thought, maybe not. I mean, yeah, it would make it easier to breathe but you would be breathing pee-infused water. That's gross. Unless you're in to things like that... there are websites for people like you.)

There are many methods to the art of swimming and the artists are varied and skilled. You have your Picassos (Olympic athletes), your Rembrandts (Ironmen), and your Monets (record holders). Then you have me. Compared to them I am a monkey with finger paints... a finger painting monkey wrapped in neoprene... who probably eats paste.

The morning swim has turned from downright scary to eerily spooky to surprising enjoyable. Instead of cringing at the thought of another practice session in the water, I joyfully look at my calendar to schedule the next one. Looks like Coach Scotty was correct with her "advice." Who knew practicing would make you better? I am happy to report that I have ungracefully, very slowly, but still successfully managed to swim my first mile to mile and a half!

With my first sprint triathlon coming in only a few days, we will see how the practice sessions have paid off. I am hoping to be out of the water in under 15 minutes, but A) I don't know how to swim in groups, B) I have not done any open water ocean swimming yet, and 3) my big bag of excuses might weigh me down a bit.

I know 15 minutes to swim 1/3 mile may sound slow to the more experienced swimmers, but, while you're working through a postimpressionistic stage, I am still coloring by numbers. With time and practice, though, I too hope to become an artist. For now I will settle with painting outside the lines as I work on my own artistic creation. I call it Wetsuit Monkey with Gills Still Drowns.

Gearing Up for Swimming: The Basics

Becoming a swimmer, or a non-drowner, has brought with it a new slew of gear to ogle and desire. I did it when I first started cycling. Admittedly I still do it with bicycles, longing to hold that new carbon frame like a new lover... running a finger along its downtube... gently caressing its chainstays... fiddling its electronic shifters... admiring its tubeless...

… ahem... excuse me...

I do it with running gear because cycling spandex is very different from running spandex. Don't get me started on the outfits for every season.

Now I get to open a swimming catalog and openly gawk at the pictures of technical wetsuits, swim skins, caps, and goggles, which seem to make all the models look very impressive! I want to be impressive, too.

Since all new hobbies have a price attached, I have not obtained the necessary equipment to be impressively high-tech; but, thanks to generous friends, I am able to sport gear which should provoke some feelings of awe or, maybe, general ennui. Either way, I make stuff look good.

As a newbie to the sport I do not yet have the necessary expertise to properly discuss swim gear, but this will not prevent me from talking about it with an air of jejune glibness. Here are your basic needs:

WETSUIT: Swimming without a wetsuit sucks. Wetsuits, unlike me, are naturally buoyant. They help you stay in better form which keeps you more streamlined during your swim. This means less work staying afloat, more energy going into your stroke. More importantly, being more buoyant means less drowning. Less drowning is a bonus! I don't know how anyone does distance swimming without one. They are either very strong swimmers, or they're made of Styrofoam.

GOGGLES: Being able to see where you're going has amazing advantages while swimming. So you wear goggles. Firstly, you won't get water in your eyes when you lift your face from the water. You get to see where you're going. This is huge. Secondly, you won't get water in your eyes every time you put your face in the water. You can still see where you're going. This is also huge. What I am trying to say is this: Seeing is huge if you are trying to look where you're going. The chances of swimming off course is incredibly easy without things like sight, so goggles are a must. There is one downside to goggles. You can see things under the water, like lake scum, fallen trees, and aquatic plant life that resembles dead bodies when you're not expecting it to JUMP RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU! God, lakes are spooky.

CAP: They keep your head warm. They make you more hydrodynamic. They come in an array of fashionable colors that draw attention to the swimmer which, most importantly, can keep you from being run over by that teenager who you know has been stealing bourbon from his daddy's liquor cabinet every morning for the past three weeks before jumping on his ski-doo and running roughshod through the open waters like he owns the damn lake. Point to remember: white, black, or blue are not good because these colors blend in with the water. Anything fluorescent, neon, or possibly glowing would be great.

If you have these three items you are ready to pretend that you're a swimmer. As I become more involved with this sport I will surely have additional poignant, yet equally superficial, advice to give. I will, that is, if I haven't failed at being a non-drowner.

The People I've Met Along the Way (Part 2)

The Spewer: In July, I ran a 5K in Wakefield (www.takethelake5k.com - I highly recommend this race if you're up for a fast, flat course and you want to set a new PR). There I was running around the lake, passing other competitors, and feeling strong. First mile down. 6:34 pace confirmed. Booyah! New PR, here I come. Strong steady stride. Breathing is relaxed, rhythmic, yogic. Second mile down. Holding true to pace at 13:something. Final mile. I'm not passing people anymore but I am not being passed. The finish line is in sight. I am alone. I am at peace. I am zen. I am... being passed by some young upstart who has been pacing behind me! Damn his vile youthfulness. Try as I might, I don't have enough in the tank to catch up with him. Good thing I didn't. About 50 yards after he passed me he turned his head to the left and, in almost cinematic slow motion, spewed a chunky cloud of pre-race snacks over himself, the street, and anyone unlucky enough to be watching the race as he went by. That'll teach him to pass his elders.

The Ancient Ones: Speaking of the elderly, every one of us has met a few of these along the way. They are older then us. Some carry AARP cards. Most can tell you Back-In-My-Day stories about races of yore, when "we didn't have sneakers with absorption technology or wicking clothes or Gu... we ran in our leather-soled boots because that's all we had... and we were greatful for it! You kids today with your mamby-pansy spandex and GSP devices... get off my lawn!"

Here is one of my favorites: Climb to the Clouds 2005(?) - Around mile 80 I started to lose all steam. My legs were cranky. My confidence began to crumble. I hear a pleasant "On your left" as a fellow cyclist starts to pass me up one of the many hills. It was a man in his 70s riding what appeared to be a bicycle he had since he was a kid. The wheels had fenders. His gear shifts were on the down tube. I think there were springs under his saddle. Here I am on my full carbon pedaling out of the saddle, trying to make it over the hill. Here's this septuagenarian, smiling serenely, sitting in his saddle, crushing my will under his platform pedaling feet. Maybe I should have asked to ride in his basket during the next hill.

Superhero Girl: I would be remiss if I didn't bring up her. Just like Superhero Guy (see Part 1), Superhero Girl is out there to embarrass and emasculate us all. Although I have seen glimpses of her when running or cycling, she being way up ahead of me, the best place to observe Superhero Girl was at the gym. She looks like your average woman when she enters the locker room, but what exits is far more impressive. It's like a before and after with Clark Kent in a telephone booth, but much hotter and much less spandex. She, like Superhero Guy, has muscles that I don't have and don't think I could even develop. Her body is chiseled, like granite, yet soft and feminine. She walks with a calm superiority as all men in the vicinity are struck dumb as she passes. She chooses weights that I typically avoid because, well, they're really, really heavy. We stare, partly because we are guys, but also partly because we are envious. We secretly wish we had arms or quads or abs like hers, or could look half as good as she does. I've tried but apparently one of her special powers is fitting into that skin tight outfit.

Practice Makes Perfect? (part deux)

Swim lessons are over. I have a lot of work to do. I have to swim a 1/3 mile in September. At present I can manage a 1/3 of a 1/3 mile, which is, what, 1/9? Pitiful. I guess I should be pleased considering that 4 weeks ago I could not manage 50 yards without feeling like I was having a heart attack. Our coach, Scotty, insists that we just need more practice to feel comfortable in the water. How dare she use logic against me! That 'practice' theory of hers flies in the face of all my well-oiled excuses. Fine, practice it is then.

5:30am at the lake is many things. Quiet. Peaceful. Relaxing. Spooky.

In the distance a blue heron sounds off her mournful call. A fish jumps, causing a sudden splash. There is low fog covering the surface of the water. I am the only one at the lake. No one is up at 5:30 in the morning. No one, of course, except for zombies. Homicidal zombie maniacs lying in wait for anyone silly enough to wake up this early in the morning. Yup, this is what I am thinking as I put on my wetsuit and enter the water. Thankfully the impending threat of drowning curbs my fear of the undead. Unless there are water zombies. Crap.

Coach Scotty recommends that we always swim with a partner, even better if you can have someone in a kayak join you in case of emergencies. This is the best, most sensible way to do it. I've invited several people to join in on the early morning fun. Most scrunch up their face, wrinkle their nose, and respond with a resounding no. The others laugh and tell me there's no chance in heck. They all know about the lake zombies. So I have been swimming alone.

All in all swimming is, not surprisingly, getting better. Having a wetsuit makes things easier. I don't have to work at staying afloat while trying to work at propelling myself forward. I get to be buoyant which means less sinking. This is good. The wetsuit let's me focus on swimming technique. It's starting to be less seizure, more frantic freestyle. I guess Scotty is right. Practice will make you better; but the zombies reaching up from the bottom of the lake will make you faster.

----

If you are interested in learning how to swim better, or want to try your first tri but are uneasy about the swimming section, contact the Salem Athletic Club (www.SAC-NH.com) and ask for Scotty. I've asked around and Scotty is synonymous with swimming!

The People I've Met Along the Way (Part 1)

Stroller Pusher: We have all met this man or woman at some time in our racing travels. There we are trying our best, giving the course our all, when from behind we hear the tell-tale signs of impending rolling embarrassment. You don't look. You don't turn around. You don't want to know. Then you see it out of the corner of your eye. A wheel. That wheel is attached to a stroller. That stroller has twins in it. Not preemie twins. Big twins. Probably 15lbs each. They're laughing. You could think they were laughing at the colors along the race route. You could think they were laughing as the wind tickles their faces. You could, but you know they're laughing at you. They're laughing because their mommy or daddy is passing you... up a hill... pushing a 20 lb stroller filled with 30 lbs of baby. Being mocked by adults is one thing, but being mocked by babies? I will totally steal their candy if I can catch them.

Hill Tourettes Woman: You may have not met this one but if you think back at the people you have met along the way someone might fit the bill. I was doing a very hilly century with a cycling club in Massachusetts a few years back. Fantastic but challenging route. Great cyclists. I happen to come upon a female clydesdale (for non-cyclists a "clydesdale" is a cyclist who weighs over 200lbs). She was as happy as could be riding along, strongly I might add, with the other cyclists. We struck up conversation during one of the flat stretches. She joyfully told me how she was getting in better shape. She smiled as she said how she had done a few centuries. Nothing negative came from this beacon of bubbling effervescence, until the hills. She went from joy and happiness to filth-flarn-flarn and filth. It sounded something akin to this: "Well I just love riding on days like this. It always makes me..." we hit the hill "...EFFING F**K S**T F***KING HILL D*MN STUPID F**KING *SSF**K S**T HILL!!!" She would say this and other things until she crested the top where she would immediately go back into telling me how wonderfully beautiful and pleasant the day is. Scary and funny at the same time.

Superhero Guy: I have to admit I did not meet this one at a race, but everyone knows someone like this. He's tall. He's got 5% body fat. He has about 22 abs and more muscle then anyone has the right to have. It's not steroid muscle. It's powered but the yellow sun muscle. He's the kind of guy that is so fit that even the men have stopped what they're doing to look at him. You can forget about the women. They have all lost their collective senses and are ogling with sinful intent. If this guy decided to don a spandex outfit complete with mask and cape no one would be surprised. Some of the women would probably encourage him because they needed to be saved from their cotton blouses.

Tough Mudder at Mt. Snow, VT 2011: Hello Mudder

May 2011: Tough Mudder in Mt Snow, Vermont

I believe there is one word that captures the very essence of the Tough Mudder. It is an all encompassing word which within its letters, within its phonetic structure, within its very etymology harnessing the complete embodiment, the awesome totality of this event. The word is...

WHOOOOO!!!!!!!!

WHOOOOO for its well-oiled organization. WHOOOOO for its well-marked course. WHOOOOOO for the obstacles and the mountain and to all the other half-crazed, half-dazed men and women who decided to leave the safety of their sane, controlled lives and let themselves have some unadulterated, ridiculous, insane fun!

The Mudder was truly unlike anything I had ever done. I have completed several obstacles courses but Mudder was different. It was at times humbling yet exalting, demoralizing yet uplifting, dirty yet... well, just very, very dirty. It reminded me of when when I lost my virginity, but without the handcuffs.

Instead of giving you my "Thought per Mile (thanks Jill!)," I thought I would change it slightly and give you my "Observations per Obstacle." Bear in mind that this will focus on the obstacles on the course, not the spaces in between which were filled with hellish torment, aka, another mud-slick G.D. hill.

Braveheart Charge: The start of my heat was atop a hill where men and women all of shapes, sizes, colors, and ages huddled together waiting for the cannon to fire, signaling the beginning of our journey. I looked around me and thought, if ever so briefly, why was that man wearing a banana costume. Then I thought about the brunette next to me, appreciating how pretty she looked in her spandex. Then I thought about the weather. Then I thought about what I was having for dinner, hoping it would be yummy. I was brought back from my childlike lack of focus by the rousing speech given to us by the Mudder Orator which, if I remember clearly, had something to do with free beer. He ended his speech. The cannon roared. The crowd responded in kind as 100+ strong raced wildly down the muddy, slippery hill. My only thought now was, "Oh god, I'm gonna trip and be trampled to death by Banana Man."

Death March: Once we rounded from the wild downhill sprint, we were greeted with friendly and comforting blasts of cold water from the snow making machines. Nothing starts your day better than soggy spandex, except maybe an obnoxiously steep, muddy climb, which is exactly what we got. A long... long... looooooong hill climb up a very steep ski slope. The running and jogging came to a complete stop for most of us; but we resolved to walk the shit out of that hill... and walk... and walk... and walk we did.

Not even 2 miles into the race and I realized something: Tough Mudder has a sense of humor. Death signs.

Killa Gorilla: We ran (read: slipped and fell) down an equally steep and muddy hill to get to the Gorilla. The task was simple in it's muddiness. We had to run down and up and down and up and down... and up... and down... and up (gasp!) a slippery, rocky slope riddled with mud puddles while being soaked by ice cold water from the snow makers. "Why," you ask, "is this necessary?" Simple. There was a chance we may have dried off or somehow avoided any of the previous muddy offerings. This is a No-No to the Gods of Mudder. There is no way you could have avoided being wet and muddy after Killa. Chances are you were also a little bloody by now, but in a good way.

Devil's Beard: We ran further down the hill* (*to avoid repetition, every time I say hill, you should think "steep, muddy, and treacherous") and arrived at the Devil's Beard, aka a large cargo net under which we were to crawl. I have to say, this one was relatively benign and safe. It would have been harder had we not shared the task with a bunch of other Mudders. There was a chance of repeated entanglement for any soloist; but when it became a group thing it was just plain easy. We bore the weight of the net as a team as we passed under it. It was less Beard, more Goatee. Lesson learned: don't do it alone if you can do it in a group. In fact, you can take that lesson almost anywhere in life.

Boa Constrictor: I am claustrophobic. Not enough to cause a total mental shutdown, but enough to cause silent whimpering. A short run from the Beard and we dove, headfirst, into the tunnels. Cramped, wet, dark, and, if you were lucky enough to go after someone who had burritos for dinner, stinky. In the Boa there was not enough room to crawl on your hands and knees, so you had to pull yourself through, inch by inch, on your belly. The last foot forced you to plunge into a pond and splash across before ducking back into the pond to enter the tunnel out. If you were behind me in the Boa Constrictor you may have heard something akin to whimpering but it was done courageously.

Tired Yet?: Typical, tried, and true, but two differences to their tires: they are on a hill and filled with, you guessed it, mud. People were running and tripping as they stepped in and out of the tires. I don't care who you are, that's funny.

Tree Hugger: Have you hugged a tree recently? No? Maybe gripped one tightly while swearing under your breath that if it breaks you will tumble backwards ass over tea kettle down a steep incline? You have? Then you have completed this obstacle. Steep and rocky, but with the help of our beloved arboreal friends, very doable.

Ball Shrinker: Your task should you accept it: Cross hand over hand over this rope bridge which has been strung through a pond into which we have been sadistically dumping huge piles of ice. The sign before the pond said, and I quote, "This water is 34 degrees." They weren't lying; but I came with my secret weapon, learned from years scuba diving in the frigid northeast. The water was cold only for a moment. Now it was like a warm bath, at least around me. To anyone who crossed immediately after me, you're welcome.

Mud Mile: Kind of silly when you think about it. We have by now covered over 4 miles of muddy terrain... what's another mile?

I am not complaining, mind you. They trails through the woods were littered with deep puddles and attractive mud pools. Everyone and everything was dirty. Almost like a recurring dream I have.

Kiss of Mud: We have been kissing mud since the beginning so another make-out session isn't surprising anyone. We army-crawled under barbed wire up a hill through mud before continuing on our way. You may have ended up with holes in your backside if you weren't low enough during your crawl, which, by Mudder definition, is like getting to second base.

Hold Your Wood: DISCLAIMER - this was dangerous. Thus far the obstacles have been masochistically enjoyable. They challenged your comfort levels but never really put you in any danger; until now. We came to a large pile of logs of all shapes, sizes, and weights. The intent was to carry a log of your choice up and over the hill provided, then returning the log to its home in the pile. Not a big deal if the hill was dry; but it wasn't. It was a slippery, muddy hill with unreliable footing.

On the way up the hill a man slipped to his side and his log smashed his arm into the ground. He stood, held up his log-smashed arm, and presented the group with a question, "Is this broken?" Although not a trained medical professional I could tell that his bone should not be trying to come out of his skin. Broken. If that wasn't bad enough our descent was repeatedly punctured with shouts of "Heads up!" or "Watch out!" as people slipped and fell down the hill, releasing their logs into the air like some kind of woody maelstrom. A broken arm seems negligible to a crushed cranium. Thankfully I am a pro at holding my wood. Been practicing since high school.

Hey Bales: Unexciting, unimaginative, and blah. The down hill run to the bales was far more exciting then the bales themselves. A quick jump and roll and you were over. Maybe a succession of bales next year would do the trick. At least light them on fire.

Evil Knevil: This was, at least from what I could tell, half of a skater's vert ramp. We ran up the ramp and made a leaping grab for the top rail, pulling ourselves to the deck. Many people who had already made their way to the platform were helping those who needed assistance and you took your turn when you were up there helping those coming after you. Go Team Everyone! In my opinion, the back side of this obstacle was harder then the front. You needed to climb the rope down the backside of the ramp, which was a flat wall. At this time in the run my hands were cold, wet, and slippery. I didn't so much climb down the rope as I did slip down the wall. No one was at the bottom helping me up from my ungraceful plummet. Go Team Me!

Spider's Web: Your typical high cargo net. Your typical up n'over. Your atypical Team Everyone contributions! Climbing a cargo net is always achievable but it is shaky and unsteady at best; but not with Team Everyone's help. Just like the Knevil, people who went before you would hold the net taut and stabilize it for those who came after, and you would return the favor to those following you. Pro: great group camaraderie. Con: you needed to be at the base of the net to hold it tightly which put you in the direct path of any falling bodies. Great if Brunette Spandex was coming your way! Bad if you were to be crushed by Banana Man.

Mystery Obstacle: Rumor has it that the mystery on Saturday was eating a full habanero. Rumor also tells that they quickly changed this obstacle to the one we had to face on Sunday due to an almost immediate case of mass vomiting after ingesting the spicy pepper. Rumor is, the medical staff on the mountain had the toughest obstacle of all: the Vomitorium. All we had to do was crawl through a pool of water which was under a hut that would randomly spew some unknown sticky mixture on top of you. We were then forced to crawl under a mini Devil's Beard full of wood chips to exit the challenge. They labeled it Tar and Feather. I labeled it the first warm obstacle we had and welcomed it. Also, we all smelled strangely like morning breakfast after completing it. Mmmmmmm, syrupy goodness.

Walk the Plank: Remember those signs we saw before the Ball Shrinker? Remember the front-end loader dumping piles and piles of ice into the water? They were back and with a vengeance. This. Obstacle. Sucked (but in a rockin' good time way!). If you don't like heights this sucked. If you don't like cold water this sucked. I hate both so this was less than pleasant. We climbed up a ramp via a knotted rope to the top of a platform which they built directly over a deep pond; not on the pond, over... about 15 - 20 feet over. The challenge was simple and unforgiving. Propel yourself off the safety of the ledge and plunge feet first into the icy depths below. Once in, swim your way out. The jump was the least of my worries as I hit the water and realized that the gods of the Ball Shrinker were angry that I subverted their earlier icy grasp. When I hit the water something extraordinary happened. I forgot how to breathe and my body clearly hated me, which explains why most of my muscles weren't responding. I couldn't even defend myself against the cold by peeing. I tried but nothing happened. My body was telling me with no room for argument that this water was @#%^@#%#$% cold! With a few short, tense breaths, I was able to numbly paddle my way to the pond's egress. Many people were wrapping themselves in Mudder-provided warming sheets, shivering with cold; but not yours truly. I ran shivering to the nearest tree. My muscles were working again.

Underwater Tunnels: Oh goody, more cold, muddy water! The name sounds scarier than it really was.

Mudder had placed PVC pipes at random intervals along the top of a 20 - 30 foot puddle. I call it a puddle because it may have been a 18 inches at its deepest. Not a lot of room to move. We needed to plunge headfirst into the puddle and crawl under the pipes. Getting under the pipes was easy and the temperature was not as cold as previous aquatic events; but, the water was muddy, murky, and full of weeds, roots, branches, and who knows what else... the decaying remains of those who fell before you? This was very high on the yucky scale but it did make for good pictures.

Glacier: Not so much a glacier as a really big snow pile. How big? Big like you find in a mall parking lot after a huge snow storm big... and, after about 10,000 people climbing it, just as dirty.

The climb up was just as easy as it was when you were a kid playing in a snow bank. Run up, dig in, and get to the top. The way down was just as easy except for one small issue. The intent was to run down the snowy slope on the other side but, after 10,000 runners, there was no more slope and no running. People had worked several waist deep single-track ravines into the back of the snow bank and we had to trudge through the melting gaps to pass this obstacle. The water events may have been colder but this made my toes ache. Painfully so.

The Gauntlet: Not hard but very, very wet. We ran up another hilly mire, climbing over rows of hale bales on the way, while multiple snow making machines were soaking us with cold water. If this challenge were at the beginning it may have come as a shock but by this time in the course it was expected. At least this water wasn't frigid and the slipping, sliding, and falling always makes for a few laughs.

Cliff Hanger: For the life of me I don't remember this obstacle. I look on the website and it's listed but to me it's a complete blank. They say it was a muddy, steep hill... well, then I've been doing this obstacle since we started the race. We've done nothing but go up and down steep, muddy hills between each obstacle. Maybe it was so bad that I have suppressed the memory deep into my subconscious. Maybe I hit my head during it and erased the short-term memory. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't there. I honestly couldn't tell you.

Blood Bath: I have never been so cold. The other water obstacles were mildly temperate compared to this sadistically malicious hell. Let me paint a picture: there is a wooden box about 4 feet deep and 5 feet long filled with colored water, green if I remember correctly. In the middle of the box is a two foot wooden barrier, one foot exposed, the other foot submerged. Remember that front-end loader with the ice? It's been waiting for you for this final kick to the balls. It has been dumping loads of ice into the box. So much ice, in fact, that it's not just floating on the surface of the water. It is the water. We needed to fully submerge our body into the bath, go under the barrier, and climb out the other side. Blood Bath sounds warm and inviting. This should be Ice Box, or Freezer Burn, or F-F-F-F-F***.

Funky Monkey: A great twist on a playground favorite. Instead of swinging from bar to bar across a level plain, you needed to swing up bar to bar until you reached the apex of the frame. Then you could make your bar to bar descent down to safety. Don't worry if you fell from the bars, there was a ice cold pool waiting to catch you! I happily made it to the highest bar before my hands, still numb from the Bath, stopped being handy. Back in the ice cold water I went and me defenseless without a full bladder.

Berlin Walls: Four 12 foot walls. We had to climb over four 12 foot walls.
I'm tired. I'm cold. You want me to do what? Right, climb over the walls. I tried to climb over one wall without help and was very successful at not succeeding.

These walls were tough. Walls would have been much easier had they been at the beginning, but I think that's the point. Can we push ourselves a wee bit more. We needed Team Everyone again. Every able body was lifting, pushing, and shoving every other able body to the top of the wall so they could climb over and drop on the other side. This was very possibly the hardest obstacle on the course, mainly due to our exhaustion. Did it suck? Yes. Was it hard? Yep. Was I nervous of falling from the top? Oh yeah. Was it possibly the best obstacle on the course? I think so.

Tower Hurdle: Mudder needed to put something in your way because who wants to run on boring flat ground? Their answer to flat and boring? Multiple ski lift towers put on their side for us to climb and hop over. Not too challenging as most of us carefully stepped up and over each prone tower. A few banged up chins and knees and we were off to the next obstacle of joy.

Fire Walker: So far I have been unabashedly bitching about how cold the water was. Up to this point I had been muttering to myself how a little warmth would go a long way. I take it all back. The Fire Walker is one of Mudder's signature obstacles and, for many, the one obstacle that deterred people from signing up. Mudder had set up two piles, of what I will assume was hay, with a path running between them. No big deal. They set the piles on fire. No big deal. The piles were 5 feet tall which means the flames were even taller. No biggie. All the smoke from the burning pyres went directly into the gully between them. Big deal. I entered the valley of smoke and, for the only time during the event, panicked. The smoke was thick and gray and oppressive. I couldn't see the path. I couldn't see the fire, but I could hear and feel it. I didn't know where to run for fear of stumbling into the flames. Nervously, I unconsciously took a breath. Bad idea. Now I couldn't breath. I am going to die. I made it out of the billowing smoke sputtering, coughing, and hacking. My eyes tearing from the acridity, I looked back and realized the path was about 5 feet long. I was in there for less than a minute. No, really, I was crying because of the smoke. I wasn't that afraid. Hold me.

Turds Nest: Climb up to the platform, make your way across the cargo net, climb down from the platform. A different take on the spider's web. The secret to this is not to climb but roll across it. Wish I paid more attention to this obstacle but I was still wiping the tear's of brimstone joy from my eyes.

Greased Lightning: Every kid in attendance wanted to do this one. It was a Slip-n-Slide, but bigger and steeper! Most people were going feet first. I guess they didn't want to get their hair wet. We have taken so many chances throughout the course why be sensible and cautious now? It was more fun taking a running dive. I was sliding down the hill headfirst with arms outstretched, like Superman. Don't worry about stopping, they had a barrier to slow your momentum. Just like kryptonite.

Electroshock Therapy: There it is. The finish line. We can see it. Just one more obstacle and our 3 hours of trials will come to an end. Just a few more steps will get us through this jungle of LIVE ELECTRIC WIRES. To be fair not all the wires were live and they had some of kind of randomizer so different wires had a different voltage at different times. Something like that. The main point is LIVE ELECTRIC WIRES. Some people were lucky and didn't get shocked. Some people were unlucky and got hit multiple times. I was zapped in the face. In the lips. I found the experience to be quite (ready for it) shocking.

Total time: 3 hours and 25 minutes... I think.

SUMMARY

I find it hard to fully explain what we went through on the day of the race. I can't even call it a race; Mudder doesn't. It's a challenge. We were not timed. Most people were not vying for position or strategizing the best way to edge out their opponents. We had no opponents, unless you consider your self-preservation needs butting heads with your masochistic desires to push beyond your usual comfort levels an opponent. In fact, most people were stopping for complete strangers, stopping for men and women who we would probably only manage a cursory and compulsory nod of the head during our day to day bullshit, to lend a helping hand or an encouraging word, to get people up and moving forward, to let them know that they made the right choice, that they would not fail, that they would prove themselves courageously right. We stopped and helped because at that time on that mountain during that event we were not strangers, we were Mudders! WHOOOOOOOOO!!!