Yes. YES! The final installment of the 2012 Tough Mudder at Mount Snow, VT. Was there waiting on bated breath? To be honest, even if there was I wouldn't know what it was. What is bated? Is it baited? Like fish. Is it fishy breath? That's gross. If you have fishy breath go read somewhere else. You smell.
(And, yes, it has been far too long between Mudder installments but shit gets in the way: (1) I had to sit down and type stuff, but (2) there was TV to watch and (3) I wasn't feeling particularly witty. No one wants a serious Aggressive because then I'll sound like some old curmudgeon.... which would be a great name for Mid-Life Crisis once he hits 50... Old Curmudgeon!)
Back to our harrowing tale of courage and fortitude and mud and wet undies! Or maybe just back to the obstacles.
(My apologies to everyone but I did not have any good pictures of most of these obstacles. I need a better camera, or better yet, a GoPro.... vlogging would be best; but until that time you will have to put on your imagination caps and take a walk down imaginary lane with me. I knew you could.)
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Walk the Plank: First rule of mask-wearing: They come off in water. Second rule: Very cold water makes it hard to readjust your mask while you are turning into a drowning hero-sicle. There were no improvements to the Plank this year. We climbed up to the platform, jumped 15 - 20 feet into a cold pond, and swam out; but what else could they do? Make it higher? Maybe, but that would mean the pond would need to be deeper. Make the water colder? Any colder and it would be ice. They could make it more pirate-ier. Force us to walk the plank. Yell some piratey cliches, "Avast ye scurvy mudder, it be yur time to meet Davy Jones and sleep with the fishes" Wait, that's sounds more like the mob... Mafia Pirates! You hear about the mafia pirate who had a hook for a hand? He had a speech impediment. Get it? Cuz he only had one hand and Italians... oh, never mind...
Underwater Tunnels: These are gross every year. When you watch the videos on-line you see people swimming under barrels floating on cold, but fairly clean water. These people never come up on the other side covered in muck, detritus, and woodland refuse; but we do, and by "we" I mean "me." Mount Snow's "Tunnels" are nothing more than PVC pipes running across a foot deep puddle. The object is to go under those pipes, which means fully submerging ourselves in the woody waste water. One improvement: they strung barbed wire over the pipes so no one could skip out of the foresty flotsam by climbing over the pipes. You can't get hurt on this one and it's really not that cold; but do close your mouth because who knows what's lurking in the murk... and that's just disgusting.
Glacier: Aka, Big Mound of Snow. It wasn't at bad as last year's Glacier where we had ice ravines to walk through, freezing our lil'piggies off; but it was still a big pile of snow. I neither love nor hate this obstacle. It's easy but it's cold and it doesn't evoke any real visceral emotions when you've climbed off it... kind of like some people I've known...
The Gauntlet: Muddy, slick hill. Hay bales to climb over during our ascent. Cold water blasted on us from above... yup, same as last year; but, wait a minute... is that a kid controlling the fire house? Little punk is laughing at us Mudders while blasting us with ice cold water! Damn kids these days! No respect for their elders! Get off my lawn obstacle!
Berlin Walls #2: Ah, yes, my 15' tall wooden wall nemesis. We meet again. These are the same walls as last year and they present the same problems to the already weary, wet, and cold Mudders. They are hard to climb over solo and need Team Everyone. Problem with Team Everyone is that not everyone on Everyone is, shall we say, as easily movable as others. I, being S.L.A.B. (aka: Slender Like a B****), am easily hoisted to the top of the walls. Others, being F.L.A.B (aka: uh, flab), are not. Maybe you'll be lucky and only have to throw some SLABs around. Maybe you won't be and have to throw some FLABS. Either way, the only way up n'over for most is with the help of other Mudders, and isn't that why we're there?
Fire Walker: Oil-soaked bales of hay? Check. Raging inferno lit? Check. Acrid smoke billowing over the exhausted runners? Of course! This year I was ready for the Fire and, as luck would have it, nature played in my favor. Once we entered the Fire the wind changed direction, pulling with it the wall o' smoke that would have caused it's typical panic. It would have been clear running had it not been for Mudder's little sadistic addition. Mudder had placed a gas pipe across our path in which a low flame was burning through its jets. As we readied ourselves to hop over the small spouts of fire, the man sitting on the side, whose hands were on the gas valve controlling the amount of gas flowing through the pipe, turned up the heat. Literally. What was a small spout became a huge jet of hellfire which, I must say, was a nice touch. Surprise danger is always a good way to heat things up. He let it fall back to its original size but it had the desired effect: stopping us dead in our tracks with a look that, if I'm not mistaken, said, "asshole."
Twinkle Toes: If you knew me you would know that the name of this obstacle reeks of humor directed at yours truly. I have often been accused of someone who is "light on his feet" or "light is his loafers." I'm not sure why. Is it my penchant for spandex or my enthusiasm for dressing in costume? It remains a mystery; but after successfully walking across the 1-inch narrow, 15 foot long beam which was suspended a few feet over an icy pool, it did not take long for the jokes to roll in... especially by those who had fallen in. Who's to say why I was able to do it when others couldn't. Maybe I am lighter on my feet then my compatriots. Maybe if they were in front of me I'd know, but they were always suspiciously behind me, behind spandex-clad me... watching... leering... if I didn't know any better, I would feel objectified.
Greased Lightning: Last year's was better. Last year they had a slip n'slide down a hill into a waiting icy pool. This year they just kept the muddy hill wet. Yes, it was slippery. Yes, we could slide down it. Yes, it was muddy, wet fun; but, unlike last year, I didn't feel like I was "burnin' up the quarter mile" after it.
Electroshock Therapy: I didn't get shocked. I didn't get shocked. I ran through and didn't get shocked. Last year I got shocked in the face, but not this year! This was the same obstacle as last year, a multitude of random live wires dangerously dangling in our path with the only addition being hay bales placed randomly under the electrified wires to slow us down. I am guessing that Mudder was upset that Mudders were sprinting through the wires last year to avoid having many touch them at once, diminishing the chances of being shocked, and, thus, negating any fun for the spectators. Nothing makes the spectators Ooh and Aah like watching their loved ones take a stinging jolt of 10,000 volts. Loved ones are sadistic.
Finish: 10+ miles done. Who knows how long it took and who cares. This isn't about the pace and place, it's about the journey and the stories and the pain and the laughter. Give us our orange headband. Give us our free beer. Give us our free vendor provided energy supplements. Gimme. Gimme. Gimme... because we earned it. For our veteran Mudders, welcome back and congratulations! For our new Mudders, thank you for joining our unofficial racing family.
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It's not TMHQ that makes this worth doing. It's not the location or the course. It's you, Mudder, new and old, who make this worth doing.
It's you who comes to share with me your want to finish, your wish to succeed, and your will to strive. It's you who makes the story and with that brings life to the telling. I may be waxing a bit sentimental but you all deserve it. Each and every one of you.
A team hug was in order because nothing says a job well done like muddy hugs. Until next Mudder... stay Aggressive!
(And, yes, it has been far too long between Mudder installments but shit gets in the way: (1) I had to sit down and type stuff, but (2) there was TV to watch and (3) I wasn't feeling particularly witty. No one wants a serious Aggressive because then I'll sound like some old curmudgeon.... which would be a great name for Mid-Life Crisis once he hits 50... Old Curmudgeon!)
Back to our harrowing tale of courage and fortitude and mud and wet undies! Or maybe just back to the obstacles.
(My apologies to everyone but I did not have any good pictures of most of these obstacles. I need a better camera, or better yet, a GoPro.... vlogging would be best; but until that time you will have to put on your imagination caps and take a walk down imaginary lane with me. I knew you could.)
----------------------------------
Walk the Plank: First rule of mask-wearing: They come off in water. Second rule: Very cold water makes it hard to readjust your mask while you are turning into a drowning hero-sicle. There were no improvements to the Plank this year. We climbed up to the platform, jumped 15 - 20 feet into a cold pond, and swam out; but what else could they do? Make it higher? Maybe, but that would mean the pond would need to be deeper. Make the water colder? Any colder and it would be ice. They could make it more pirate-ier. Force us to walk the plank. Yell some piratey cliches, "Avast ye scurvy mudder, it be yur time to meet Davy Jones and sleep with the fishes" Wait, that's sounds more like the mob... Mafia Pirates! You hear about the mafia pirate who had a hook for a hand? He had a speech impediment. Get it? Cuz he only had one hand and Italians... oh, never mind...Underwater Tunnels: These are gross every year. When you watch the videos on-line you see people swimming under barrels floating on cold, but fairly clean water. These people never come up on the other side covered in muck, detritus, and woodland refuse; but we do, and by "we" I mean "me." Mount Snow's "Tunnels" are nothing more than PVC pipes running across a foot deep puddle. The object is to go under those pipes, which means fully submerging ourselves in the woody waste water. One improvement: they strung barbed wire over the pipes so no one could skip out of the foresty flotsam by climbing over the pipes. You can't get hurt on this one and it's really not that cold; but do close your mouth because who knows what's lurking in the murk... and that's just disgusting.
 |
| Glacier of ice, or something else? |
The Gauntlet: Muddy, slick hill. Hay bales to climb over during our ascent. Cold water blasted on us from above... yup, same as last year; but, wait a minute... is that a kid controlling the fire house? Little punk is laughing at us Mudders while blasting us with ice cold water! Damn kids these days! No respect for their elders! Get off my lawn obstacle!
 |
| Just as good as in the movies |
Fire Walker: Oil-soaked bales of hay? Check. Raging inferno lit? Check. Acrid smoke billowing over the exhausted runners? Of course! This year I was ready for the Fire and, as luck would have it, nature played in my favor. Once we entered the Fire the wind changed direction, pulling with it the wall o' smoke that would have caused it's typical panic. It would have been clear running had it not been for Mudder's little sadistic addition. Mudder had placed a gas pipe across our path in which a low flame was burning through its jets. As we readied ourselves to hop over the small spouts of fire, the man sitting on the side, whose hands were on the gas valve controlling the amount of gas flowing through the pipe, turned up the heat. Literally. What was a small spout became a huge jet of hellfire which, I must say, was a nice touch. Surprise danger is always a good way to heat things up. He let it fall back to its original size but it had the desired effect: stopping us dead in our tracks with a look that, if I'm not mistaken, said, "asshole."
 |
| Never has a "On Fire" joke been more apropos |
Twinkle Toes: If you knew me you would know that the name of this obstacle reeks of humor directed at yours truly. I have often been accused of someone who is "light on his feet" or "light is his loafers." I'm not sure why. Is it my penchant for spandex or my enthusiasm for dressing in costume? It remains a mystery; but after successfully walking across the 1-inch narrow, 15 foot long beam which was suspended a few feet over an icy pool, it did not take long for the jokes to roll in... especially by those who had fallen in. Who's to say why I was able to do it when others couldn't. Maybe I am lighter on my feet then my compatriots. Maybe if they were in front of me I'd know, but they were always suspiciously behind me, behind spandex-clad me... watching... leering... if I didn't know any better, I would feel objectified.
Greased Lightning: Last year's was better. Last year they had a slip n'slide down a hill into a waiting icy pool. This year they just kept the muddy hill wet. Yes, it was slippery. Yes, we could slide down it. Yes, it was muddy, wet fun; but, unlike last year, I didn't feel like I was "burnin' up the quarter mile" after it.
 |
| Nothing "shocking" about our muddy finish |
Finish: 10+ miles done. Who knows how long it took and who cares. This isn't about the pace and place, it's about the journey and the stories and the pain and the laughter. Give us our orange headband. Give us our free beer. Give us our free vendor provided energy supplements. Gimme. Gimme. Gimme... because we earned it. For our veteran Mudders, welcome back and congratulations! For our new Mudders, thank you for joining our unofficial racing family.
------------------------
It's not TMHQ that makes this worth doing. It's not the location or the course. It's you, Mudder, new and old, who make this worth doing.
 |
| The Officially Unofficial Team |
Illustrious
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