Rants and Raves: Jinglebell Half Marathon - Atkinson, NH 2013

Where it was:  Atkinson Country Club, Atkinson, NH

What it is:  LOCO Races first annual half marathon in Atkinson, NH,  and a great way to end the year... if you like running and you like doing it for 13 miles.

Who was racing:  Nice Pipes, the Countess, and Hugh Jameson were in attendance for this race.  Introductions are in order for Aggressive newcomer EPO and his cherry-popping first half marathon (more about EPO in a later article).  The race had about 1000 runners of all shapes, sizes, skill levels, speeds, and costumes.  Oh, yes.  Costumes!  I felt so at home although they were wearing Christmas-themed attire, elves, reindeer, Santa, etc, while I was in cape and tights; but if I consider myself a present, then it fits.  Unwrap me and Merry Christmas to the present that keeps on giving.

Hugh Jameson, EPO, Illustrious
Countess Ovum, Nice Pipes
Looking good, Team!

Why we do it:  Honestly, I'm still trying to figure this one out.  So far I've come up with "Runners are stupid."  Seriously.  If you're a runner, don't whine, I'm one, too; but there is no good reason to run 13 miles in this weather.  None.  It's cold out.  A saw a witch's tit.  That's how cold it was.  Why did we do it?  We signed up for it when it was 80 out.  There's New England optimism for ya!

Rants:

1. It's cold in December.  Admittedly, it was colder on race day than it has been for a long time (9 degrees at the start, a balmy 12 degrees when we finished), but as a general rule December = winter and in New England winter = cold.  When it's cold people have to pee more often, at least I have to pee more often.  This could possibly point to a urinary problem, some might say incontinence, but whatever it may be, we need places to pee.  The race organizer's recommendation was to find a private place if you needed to heed nature's call, but that's not always easy to find when you're running through neighborhoods.  Relieving yourself behind little Tommy's swing set is apparently 1) illegal, 2) in poor taste, and 3) hilarious because I know little Tommy and he's a brat.  Here's a better idea.  There are these things called "potties" that people put into containers to make them "portable."  These portable potties can be put anywhere, literally anywhere that they will fit, say, along a race course, for example.  These "porta-potties" would then be used by "people" who have to "pee like a race horse."  
2. Not that I like being reminded how slow I am on the course, but I do like pace clocks.  Unless you're a seasoned runner, you might not have any idea what your pace feels like.  I know people who can feel a 6 minute pace, a 5 minute pace - they know it without checking.  They can feel it in their feet, their legs, their inner Jedi, but they can't tell me what that feeling is.  I assume it feels like warm butter. All I usually feel is lethargy; but pace clocks spare me having to feel anything.  I get told how to feel by the happy little digits clicking away along the route.  We don't need them every mile but maybe every 4th mile, just to give us a heads up how we're doing: Mile 4: "Looking good"  Mile 8: "You've looked better"  Mile 12: "Dude, do you even run?"
3. The photography company they hired to capture the event took great pictures and were very friendly along the course.  This is not a rant on the professionals who were doing what they were hired to do.  With that said, $15 for an unedited hi-res downloadable image?  $15?!!  $5 maybe, but not $15.  I've never been robbed on a highway before but this might be what it's like, if I bought one of these.  I get that the company has to make a profit.  I get that the prices are set and if I don't like those prices, don't shop there (which I didn't).  Admittedly, they do have a nice deal, all your pics for $53, which if you have a bunch is a good money saver; but, still, make'em $5 for untouched downloadables and racers would snatch them up.  Back in the day with film and dark rooms, etc, etc, I could understand why it would cost a certain amount, but point-click-download doesn't take the same amount of work. Or do what other events do, tie in a price to the race fee and let racers have x number of pics included with the race.  $15!  I can get two cows and a chicken for $15 in New Hampshire.

Raves:

1. Thank you volunteers!  You guys made everything from getting our race bibs before the race to getting our medals finishing the race incredibly easy.  Event organizers can put together the course, get the supplies, book the venue, but it's always the volunteers that make a race memorable.  You guys were polite and helpful at check-in, incredibly supportive and upbeat at all the water stops, and never stopped cheering on the runners until the last one came across that finish line.
2. Running 13 miles may or may not be your cup o' tea but if you have to run, do it over country roads.  We went by scenic pastures and beautiful neighborhoods.  Most of the roads were empty of traffic except for the runners.  To be honest, I wasn't thrilled about all the hills.  They weren't steep but they were long and constant and everywhere and I was tired and my tampon needed changing and I'm whiny because I hate hills; but the hills were nice due to those pastures and stuff.
3. I say it every review but I think it has to be said, especially since the weather was as cold as it was: spectators!  We ran.  We got warm(-ish).  You spectators put up with single digit temps just to root for your racer!  You guys were out there along the course for no other reason but to support your loved ones and everyone else that passed along the way.  With all the hooting and the hollering, the "go <insert racer name here>", and the kryptonite jokes due to my lack of super speed, no racer felt alone on race day.  Maybe you kept warm from the warmth in your hearts.  Can I get a collective "awwwwwwww shucks"?

Overall:  As far as half marathons go this is a good one if you live in southern NH.  Races close to home are key to not losing a day for a race and getting home to find your spouse angry over the statement, "I'll be home right after the race" and you get home at midnight stinking of cheap vodka and cheaper women (that would be a great race - sign up for the Cheap Vodka and Cheaper Women 10K).  Price was right and having it at the Atkinson Country Club was a bonus because they have a bar that welcomes stinky, sweaty post-race runners.  Post-race bar time = good!  The course was well-marked and well-staffed so there was no way of getting lost.  Will we do it again?  Probably, because it's cheap, it's convenient, and the course beat me into submission and I want a re-match.  I'll be back!!

Get down!  Get to the Choppa!! 

- Illustrious

Prisoners of the Beast

Hail, Aggressives!  Sometimes after a race I have moments of creativity that quickly leave me... I wrote this a week after the Spartan Beast in September because at times I felt a little trapped while on the mountain.  I wanted to finish this piece before posting but haven't made the attempt.  Maybe putting it out there will encourage me to continue it.  Anyway, a little different than what I usually do and I promise I will get back to my normally schedule programming of sarcasm, self-abasement, and self-gratification for your viewing pleasure.

Enjoy!

________________________________________________

"Hills.  That's all I remember...  Are the hills," he said in hushed tones.  "There were so many hills...," he whispered as he blankly stared at me, through me.  I wasn't sure if he was making a declaration of certainty or trying to convince himself that, from whatever he just experienced or from where ever he just traveled, there were so many hills.

He hugged his knees to his chest and sat in silence, gently rocking back and forth, as he worked up the courage to continue.  Dried mud and blood flaked off him as he swayed in his spot, the only evidence of the ordeal he went through, leaving a layer of coagulated earthen detritus around him, letting pieces of his journey crumble away and fall to the floor.

I didn't want to push him, to rush him, to scare him into further silence, but I needed to know if the rumors were true.  I had already spoken to others with tales of what was behind the fog but nothing they said ever rang true to me.  The others fed us lies upon lies, hoping we would buy into their fantasies of glory, their tales of heroism, and for what?  So we would sleep better at night filled with false hope and unrealistic expectations?   It was empty words to hide their fear of what lay ahead, for what lay beyond what they could see; but not this one.  His fear and resistance to speak openly was reason enough to believe him and I needed proof that it could be done.  I needed to know for my own sake that there was a way out and if he found it, really found a way out, then there was hope for the rest of them still out there, for the rest of us who could go at any moment.  I needed to know that, if I was captured, there was a chance to escape the Beast. 

I offered him water and food.  By his appearance alone he was famished, and he took to my offering with such haste that I would be surprised if he tasted any of it; but it seemed to have the affect I wanted.  It gave him comfort, something I could only assume he hadn't had for some time, and put him at ease.  Maybe now he could trust to tell me his story.  I desperately needed to know.

Without looking up from where he sat huddled on the floor, he started again as he absently picked at his mud-caked feet.  At first I had difficulty hearing him, he spoke so quietly, but as he continued his words began to grow in strength, like the telling of them alone bolstered the strength in the telling.  He still refused to look directly at me and I didn't want to interrupt his courage, so I sat silently next to him and stared down at the floor, now littered with little clumps of grass and dirt.

"They grouped us together," he chuckled, "more like corralled us together, herded us... about 200 strong men and women, roped in, bound together by bonds of fear and anger and imprisonment.  They spoke to us of honor and courage and commitment, all the while forcing us closer to the gates that lead out into the fog, out into the forest, into the wild and beyond.  Out to where It lay waiting for us.

"They preached about how privileged we were to be among the chosen, how our lives would be forever changed for the better, how we would find freedom in our collective journey... freedom... they had been releasing group upon group before us and not a single one had returned victorious.  None had been set free.  It was laughable, they, those protected few beyond the barriers that held us in, speaking of freedom when we were consumed with escape.  What did they know of the value of freedom when none had ever had it stripped from them without cause, without reason?

"I don't know what else they said because it was irrelevant.  We turned to each other, held each other, spoke words of true encouragement, of true support and strength, to each other.  We wished each other luck.  What else did we have?

"Then the gates opened," he paused here to gather his thoughts or maybe to say a silent prayer for those he has not seen since the gates were spread wide.  I'd never know.  "And we ran," I could see his heart race, as blood flushed his face, as he remembered the beginning.  "Ran into whatever lay in wait for us.  Ran together... but we knew in our hearts that we ran alone.  We knew that at any moment what lay beyond could separate us, pull us apart, and leave us to fend for ourselves.

"We ran, but not easily.  Our wardens, our keepers, whatever they are, had laid trap after trap for us, impeding our way forward.  Walls burst from the ground without warning.  A few of the less fortunate came to a sudden halt, unsure of what to do; but me and several others clambered over, under, and through the barricades, determined to deny them their sadistic pleasure in seeing us fail.  Maybe those who stopped were the lucky ones, because after those barricades were the hills.  The God-damned hills...

"Looking back, I would gladly scale those walls over and over then climb those hills.  They were breaking everyone, they almost broke me, but too much was at stake, too much was counting on me breaking free."

________________________________________________

That's it for now, Aggressives. Thanks for indulging me.  You may return to your exciting, amazing lives!  

- Illustrious

Exercising vs. Training

Ok, so I do a bunch of races (with my very Aggressive team) and intend on expanding my race repertoire with whatever seems interesting, entertaining, humbling, or mildly insane.  Due to my self-inflicted, self-induced, self-gratifying racing hobby, I spend a lot of time (read: not enough time) in the gym, on the trails, on the bike, on the toilet,  grunting and sweating.  Friends, strangers, and fellow enthusiasts alike will often ask me, sometimes in the middle of my sweaty grunting session, how my training is going.  "Um, who's training?"

Seriously, who is training?  I'm exercising.  I'm making my body move.  I am pushing around those pink kettlebells at the gym with the ferocity of a caged animal who just woke up from a nap and wants to eat a pizza.  Who's training?  Not I.  I am exercising.

I don't record what I do, how far I traveled, what pace I kept, or how much weight I moved around.  How many miles did I put in this week?  Well, the roads I ran might be around 5 to 1,000 miles, so, yeah, I'll say "a lot."  What pace do I keep?  Somewhere between conversational and I need to pee.  How many reps did I do?  More than none.  How many laps am I doing?  Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep track of laps in a pool???  I lose count after 1.  How heavy am I going?  Heavy enough that I can feel what I'm working on but not so heavy that I poop myself.  What's my routine?  I have no idea until I get to the gym and that even changes depending on what is available while I'm there.  This was suppose to be leg day but now it's chest and back day, unless that girl... Damn.  There go my weights...

That's not training.  I've met people who train.  I have friends who train.  Hard.  They train a lot for triathlons and obstacles courses and road/trail races.  They have schedules and exercise routines to tweak the smallest of improvements.  They have spreadsheets and databases to track their daily performance and caloric intake.  They have calendar reminders and smartphone apps so they never miss an opportunity to further their awesomeness.  They have coaches and team practices so they may train with other like-minded athletes.  They have the DRIVE TO WIN, GODAMMIT!!  They are all very Type-A, very dedicated people, and always have their A-game at events.  They show up TRAINED!  It's all very impressive and, often times, awe inspiring.  If this were gym, they would be picked first for dodgeball.

You can always pick out these people before a race because they are the only ones STILL TRAINING.  Yup, you heard that right.  These are the people who run a few miles before a marathon to warm up.  These are the people who swim for 30 minutes before the swim to acclimate their bodies to the water temperature. These are the people who are working out prior to working out so they can work out any kinks that may hinder their work out.  They often have a gloss, nay, a gleam to them before the race.  Some may say it's sweat, but I think it's an inner glow, a radiance from their dedication to training.  It is a sheen brought on by excellence.

It's sweatcellence.

So what are you doing, Aggressives?  Are you exercising or training?  Are you being picked first for dodgeball or being hit first in dodgeball?  What are you doing during your off-season to be better when it's your on-season?

What level of sweatcellence will you achieve?

-Sweating to the oldies

Illustrious

Rants and Raves: Spartan Beast - Killington, VT 2013

Reebok Spartan Race series - Spartan Beast

Where it was:  Killington Mountain, Killington, VT

What it is:  This is Spartan's 3rd longest race, ranging somewhere between 13 miles to God-how-many-more-miles-do-we-have-to-go long.  Within the course Spartans will encounter lots and lots of obstacles, maybe around 30 but I lost count after climbing the first hill.  It's funny, really, because those aren't hills.  It's a mountain.  A really big one.  OK, maybe not Colorado big, but it's still big, and steep, and big.  Yes, I said that already but that's how big it is... and steep, triple black diamond steep.  God, how flippin' long is this hill!  The course also comes with some very heavy surprises, many extremely technical single track trails, and some water obstacles.  Oh, and some steep hills.

Who was racing:  Team Age Aggressively, of course; but also a few thousand other Spartans hellbent on causing themselves as much pain and torment as possible.  All ages, races, creeds, sexualities, genders, and stereotypes were represented.  (Not to geek-out but we did run into Hobie Call the day before the race so, yeah, you can say it's getting pretty serious.)

Team Age Aggressively seems so happy.  Only Dates Crazies 2, Countess Ovum, Sandbagger, Nice Pipes, Illustrious, Old Daddy, and Assisted Living don't know what's in store.

Why we do it:  Not sure.  Honestly.  It's a tough race.  Toughest I have ever completed.  So tough that around mile 10 I said to myself, "Illustrious, you can do a marathon, no problem."  Any race that persuades you to do something easier, like run 26 miles, is, IMHO, a tough S.O.B  So why do we do it?  Stubbornness?  Stupidity?  Because it's there?  Totally into self-torture?  Nah, we do it because we can.  It's not for the free beer.  It's not for the medal.  It's not for the super hot muddy Spartan chicks.  No, wait, yes it is, but mostly because we can.

Rants:

1. Spectator tickets.  I will continue to bitch about Spectator tickets.  If you have to charge them, fine, but at least include in the ticket discounts to Spartan apparel, food tickets, something.  Charging people to support their friends and family is bad policy.  Spectators are already spending their money on parking, on hotel rooms, on food, etc.  Stop making them pay to support Spartan Races.  Here's an idea: include a certain number of spectator tickets with the racer registration (without raising the price of registration): i.e - Wife is registered for the race, husband gets a free spectator ticket to support her.  Kids under the approved race age get in free.  We want to nurture their interest in the race, not show them how greedy a company can be.
2. Danger, danger: I won't complain about carrying heavy things (aka cement bags, gravel in a bucket) because I did enough of that on the course, but you may want to rethink the hills up which we traveled.  Too many times we had to yell out to other Spartans about falling rocks tumbling down the hillside.  Carrying heavy stuff is hard enough but having to worry about the dangers of boulders careening into us from behind is an unnecessary obstacle.  Steep is fine.  Long is fine.  Loose rocks and boulders taking out your participants (read: customers) is probably bad company policy.
3. Rule Breakers: Hey Spartans, unless you can run downhill with control, don't run down the hills.  You want to risk your personal safety, fine with the rest of us who like a good show, but don't risk our safety and ruin our day of leisure on the course with your out-of-control mad, frenzied dash.  Rule #1 of racing: don't be a douche.
4. Volunteers: We here at Age Aggressively love the volunteers. Really, we do.  I think I may or may not have said that to some of you.  Without you the race would not go off as smoothly as it does. With that said, some of you are bit, shall we say, over zealous in your role. I know you're suppose to confirm that the elites do the obstacles without failing because there's prize money involved; but to harass the open class with the same fervor is unnecessary. Example: Yelling at racers to do the obstacle again because they spilled their gravel down the mountainside was ridiculous. They were barely making it down the mountain safely without the added weight. Recommendation: go after the slackers who chose burpees instead of obstacles, or bypass obstacles altogether to get a better finishing time, or anyone ahead of me because I'll be busy picking up all this gravel.

Raves: 

1. The course.  Call me crazy and, yes, the course was a pain in the balls, but I thought that's what the Beast was suppose to be about: a challenge to you physically, mentally, emotionally - to find your breaking point.  There were plenty of places to find it, too, in the slick, sheer root and boulder-filled downhill single track or on the declivitous* (that's right, thesaurus baby), arduous hills.  Throughout the course I would mutter, "I must break you!" like Dolph Lundgren in Rocky 4, and then laugh because there were people around me and a muttering, speedo wearing, masked hero speaking in a Russian accent is apparently kinda weird.  Na zda-ro-vye!  (*This word really means moderately steep and there was nothing moderate about the steepness of those hills, but that word is sexy when you keep saying it over and over... declivitous... declivitous... mmmmmm)
2. The obstacles.  Yes, technically these are part of the course but obstacles should be mentioned because anyone can put stuff in your way but Spartan continues to keep their obstacles impressive.  There were the typical 10 foot walls to climb over, the traverse wall to cross, the long stretches of barbed wire under which we slithered, the cargo nets, etc.  These are staples in the obstacle world.  It was the other stuff that said, "I love you when you're struggling."
1. Cement Bag Carry:  Your mission if you accept it, take this 60lb cement bag... yes, this one... yes it's 60lbs.  Yes, that's kinda heavy.  Stop crying.  Take this cement bag and carry it wayyyyy up that super steep hill and then bring it back down here.  As the hill became steeper there were several of us on our hands and knees just to keep moving.  There were also many others who were putting holes in their bag, freeing the cement powder from its plastic prison.  It wasn't so much cheating as it was cement liberation, but since I kept my cement confined... stop cheating.
2. Water Rope Climb: Swim 25 - 30 yards out to that knotted rope under the bridge, climb to the top, and ring that bell.  Yes, the water is ice cold.   I can see you're in a speedo and this will leave nothing to the imagination.  I'm sorry your Asian, now go climb.
   
    
3. Water Rope Climb with Tarzan Ropes: Remember what you just did?  Do it again but once you get to the top, grab the series of ropes suspended under the bridge and Tarzan your way across to ring the bell.  Yes, the water is still cold.  No, no one noticed the affect it had on you.
   
4. Gravel Pail Carry:  This is a love/hate relationship.  I respect the obstacle and I loved the challenge but I really hated carrying that bucket, aka that fucket.  Fill a 5 gallon fucket to the top with gravel (this equals somewhere around a lot of weight) and carry it wayyyy up that slick, rocky hill, and then bring it back down again, all the while swearing at the gravel.  Trust me, if gravel had feelings, they would be hurt.
3. Racers / Spectators: This may seen irrelevant because without them there would be no race, but a few that I met must be mentioned:
1. Girl who had cystic fibrosis: She mountain climbs.  She races.  She does everything and does it with strength and power and confidence.  There's should be no whining from us when she, who has a real obstacle in her life, continues to push her limits.  Inspiring!
2. Girl under the barbed wire: My hamstrings started to cramp while crawling.  A woman saw my plight and met me after the barbed wire with salt pills for my pain, which helped immensely.  No more cramping for the day.  I might not have finished without her help.  The selflessness of strangers always leaves me warm and fuzzy.
3. The all-girl teams:  All of you who wolf-whistled and/or hooted and hollered at me, thank you for the objectification.  God only knows I don't want you girls to like me for my personality!
4. Female Spectators: See #3 above?  Thanks also goes to you and you're welcome.

Overall:  I've said it before and I'll say it again: Spartan puts out (like all good races should) one hellavu course. Registration was quick. Bag check was efficient. Yes, we still had to pay 5 bucks but free race pics more than makes up for it. The race volunteers are awesome (the ones not making silly threats which could incur the wrath of weary Spartans). Personally, I would love to see more climbing obstacles, not more carry heavy stuff obstacles which require me to recognize my lack of things like "muscles" and "strength" and "the ability to be a man," but whatever you throw at us will be fine.  If Spartan HQ creates a more challenging course next year, great!  The Team and I along with a few thousand other masochists will hit the mountains aggressively!  Just a little hint, you already challenge us on so many levels, maybe you should start challenging us morally and ethically, too.  May I suggest several jacuzzis along the course filled with tantalizing women beckoning the male participants to join them in their steamy pool of bikini fun?  The affect would be twofold: 1) Only the strongest, morally, would be able to withstand them and 2) the image of this makes me happy.  I would suggest the same obstacle for you ladies, but guys in bikinis are gross.

The Belle of the race

- Illustrious

Rants and Raves: Spartan Sprint Amesbury 2013

Reebok Spartan Race series - Spartan Sprint

Where it was:  Amesbury Sports Park, Amesbury, MA

What it is:  This is Spartan's 5K, which usually is a bit longer than 3.1 miles, probably more like 3.5 - 4.0 miles.  Within the course Spartans will encounter at least 15 obstacles... at least.  Let's put the number around 20 - 25 to play it safe because rocks and trees on the trails are obstacles, people all over the course are obstacles, sweat and blood in my eyes are obstacles, f**king burpees, which are the penalties for failing any obstacle, are obstacles, and lack of training on my part is a frickin' obstacle.

Who was racing: Team Age Aggressively (13 strong, virile, young, and incredibly good looking men and women between the ages of 18 to somewhere older than 18) was representing in true Spartan form, along with over 4000 other Spartans of all ages.

Almost all of Team Age Aggressively before the race... the others were aggressively late.
From left to right: "To be nicknamed", Hello Nurse, Old Daddy, Assisted Living, Hugh Jameson, Illustrious, Nice Pipes, "to be nicknamed", Countess Ovum., (little dude in the middle needs to be nicknamed, too)

Why we do it:  

Glory.  Fame.  Bumps and bruises, scratches and scrapes.  Free celebratory beer.  Free celebratory muddy hugs.  Fun and good times.  Sexy Spartans.  Spandex.  Sports bras and booty shorts.  Bragging rights.  Hanging with old friends.  Making new friends.  Did I say bras and booty shorts yet?

Rants:

1. I hate paying for parking but, due to limited parking at the sports park, we Spartans park up the road at a local race track.  This comes at a cost.  $10.  Not horrendous but the price of the race just jumped up a bit.  If you can, car pool.
2. Since the Boston Marathon bombing, every race has a security checkpoint.  I get it.  Try to be safer.  I'm down with that.  What I am not down with is Spartan prohibiting racers/spectators, aka people who spent their hard earned money to be at this race,  bringing in their own food to the park.  No grills, no glass bottles, no booze - all that makes sense.  There is a risk to personal safety; but not allowing people to bring in food for their kids, or pre and post-race food, which every racer always has, is ridiculous.  Not everyone wants to eat what you're cooking.  I know of one instance when a gluten-free family was not allowed to take their gluten-free food into the park.  The no-food rule completely ignores food allergies, food sensitivities, and the possibility that some people don't eat fast food.  Putting aside the dangerous stuff, let everyone bring snacks if they need them.  If for no other reason, money is tight and buying food for a family at an event gets expensive, so cut it out with the food gestapo.
3. Great, they have a bag drop station, aka a safe place to store you stuff while you race.  Not so great, they charged us $5.  Really?  This reeks of nickel and diming your competitors.  You know we'll all have a bag with a change of clothes because every one of us will be joyously muddy.  This is a money grab, short and sweet, and we will all pay it because we have to bring something for after the race.  You want to charge the spectators?  Fine.  If they can't carry their crap, make them pay.  Racers already paid enough for the pleasure of experiencing Spartan.  Give them a tag for one free bag drop.  They've earned it by being faithful followers.
4. Nothing ruins your grace in motion as lines at an obstacle.  Understandably this happens.  There are lots of Spartan racers on the course throughout the day, some taking their time as they take in the scenery.  These mighty contenders should not be ridiculed as they take on these challenges.  However, some basic race etiquette is in order, for everyone (the following may seem a bit elitest to non-racers but, good god, she was only 4 minutes behind me... 4 minutes!  What happens next year?):  
1. If you walk, walk to the right, so that swifter racers may pass you
2. If you encounter problems on an obstacle allow others to move forward before trying again.  You might not be going for time but other people are.
3. Hey faster peeps, don't get angry at the people in front of you if you don't have the common courtesy letting them know you're there.  "On your left", "on your right", "coming through."  Anything to let them know to give you some space.
5. Burpees.  Not that the burpees aren't a welcome addition to the race but... burpees.  Anyone who raves about burpees should not be trusted, ever.

Here are the teammates missing from the first pic, which is ok.
I got them all to myself!

Raves: 

1. Packet pick-up was easy breezy mac n'cheesy and, as always, the volunteers were helpful and happy.  Nothing worse than being greeted by a curmudgeon who lacks the appreciation of speedos.
2. Pre-race poops are very important because, ya know, it happens.  Having to wait in line when you just realize "oh good god I have to do now" is horrible.  Nothing worse than sudden, surprising, ninja poops that sneak up on you, ready to explode from your spandex like a tidal wave of... well, .  Thankfully there are more than enough port-a-potties at the race site.  No waiting needed.  No bouncing in place wondering if you're gonna make it.  You will make it, in the plethora of toilets available to you and everyone who sat there before you.
3. The course was great.  Challenging hills which made my legs ache.  Challenging downhills which made me fall.  Challenging single track which made my legs ache and made me fall!  Yes, all of this is a good time.  The obstacles were troublesome, and, at times, demanding; but always fun.  They were spaced out enough to allow runners the opportunity to pick up their pace and walkers enough time to get ready for the next obstacle.  The mix of climbing, jumping, pulling, and crawling obstacles gave everyone a chance to see where their limits were.  If you were bored, you didn't try hard enough, or should be running longer races.
4. Free pictures and free videos!  Not just free but quality free!  Professional grade photos, and they're free!  All that bitching about $10 for parking earlier?  Ignore it.  Free pics and vids more than make up for parking fees.  See clips of your favorite hero here (ok, well, maybe not your favorite but this is my blog) - http://spartanrace.onthefleye.com/videos/popetsi@yahoo.com/location/6/date/2013-08-11
5. Burpees.  You might not want to admit it, but you like the idea of being punished.  Why else would you run these races?  Burpees also bring with them the enjoyment of watching your friends suffer.
6. Spartans.  All of you.  Make.  It.  Great.  Everyone who competes, who runs, who does their best, is recognized and celebrated.  Hugs and high fives galore!  It is rare that I run into anyone at a Spartan event that, after running, is in a bad mood (except for the little man I met at the finish line that when I went to congratulate him gave me a look of suppressed horror.  The speedo must have brought up some closeted feelings with which he was unready to face).

Did I mention these awesome pics were free?  Go Spartan go!

Overall:

Spartan races are, at least currently, hands down the best obstacle races around.  There are many out there and most are still fun, but Spartan has a special jena se quois that puts them above the rest.  I won't give all the credit to Spartan HQ for these fun-filled events.  The participants play a huge role and I thank all of you every time I run one of these, especially the other speedo wearing runner whom I met and with whom I shared a special moment, which went something like this:

"Ahhhhhh, nice!" I said, pointing and laughing.
"Yeahhhh, you too!" he replied with similar laughter.

He gets me.

Almost all of Team Age Aggressively after the race... the others were aggressively not around.

The Call of the Spartan: Part 1

Crossing the Line

The day was warm and comfortable.  A light breeze gently blew, stirring the dried grass and leaves, making them dance across the fields and hills.  The sky was clear and bright and would have inspired a day of imagination and wonder if those gathered today were here for any other reason than why they were.  There would be no time for adolescent frivolity today.  No time to smell the roses and who would want to.  Today they would smell of sweat and blood and... is that fear?  Or courage?  The line between the two is thin.

"Why are you here?" the Master of Games shouted over the murmuring of the crowd.  Faces turned toward the voice, some with trepidation in their eyes, others with a glint of perverse pleasure, most with a resolved stoicism that masked the turmoil within.  "Why are you here?" the Master bellowed again.  "Is it for fame?  For glory?  For mud?  Or is it for something else, something more?"

He paused, building the drama and raising the expectations, mostly for himself, before continuing.

"Are you here to prove your worth, your mettle... to friends, to family... to yourselves?  Why are you here?  Maybe, at the end, you'll know... if you ever get there!"  He laughed, amusing himself with the unveiled threat of failure.  "Look around you, at your fellow..."  He paused again, surveying the throng of people before him, packed in shoulder to shoulder, bodies pressed against bodies, breathing as one.

"What should I call you," he asked, "you who have put your personal safety at bay, you who have chosen pain over pleasure, the dangers of the unknown over the safety of your couch... The Foolish?  The Unwise?  Our Dearly Departed?"  He chuckled again, "Or are you feeling aggressive today?  Yes.  That's it.  Look around you at your fellow Aggressives.  Welcome them.  Embrace them.  Today they are your family, your friends... your Team.  They have come here together to battle!  To conquer!  To survive and to overcome!  And, if they finish, for free beer and muddy hugs!

"So be ready, Aggressives!  Your time in the sun has come.  Whether you shine or burn is up to you.  Your path lies ahead and it is ripe with danger.  If you choose to stop now before you've begun, then do so and be judged.  Your team will think no less of you than you will of yourself.  The beer still awaits but it will taste of cowardice and shame.

"Who here among you wishes to quit?" the Master shouted.  The group of men and women, these Aggressives, looked to each other and, with a supporting smile, a comforting hand, an encouraging nod, made their decision.  What was brief uncertainty was now quiet resolve.  They turned back to the Master and answered him with silent, unwavering confidence.

"Then go!" the games master cried, "Run hard!  Stay strong!  Become glorious and above all else, be aggressive!  Go!" and with his final remark came the resounding boom of the cannon, signaling the beginning of the race, starting the beginning of the end.

The Aggressives surged forward up the steep incline, hearts pounding, muscles driving, lungs breathing deep the smells of salt and adrenaline, and entered the fabled Field of Obstacles...

(to be continued)

Tough Mudder Boston: Obstacle Observations, Opinions, and Oh Did I Just Say That

Before I begin my yearly review of Mudder obstacles I must send a big shout out to team Age Aggressively for their strength, their perseverance, their determination, and their moxy.  To the seasoned members of our team, thank you for joining us again and lending your muscle, your hands, and your hearts to our growing family.  To our new members, thank you for trusting us not to kill, maim, or hurt you in any way during the course.  It takes courage to join a group of strangers and extreme patience to stay with us for 10+ miles.  Tough Mudder would not have been the same without you all (for team members see: http://bit.ly/11IJJ4q) and I hope our little team grows every year with more amazingly Aggressive athletes who have little to no regard for the personal safety.

Now I bring you a very serious analysis and review of the 2013 Tough Mudder Gunstock obstacles:

Kiss of Mud: Oh, TMHQ (that's Tough Mudder Headquarters to you Noobs), I simply adore what you've done to Kiss of Mud, aka, mud crawl under barbed wire.  Last year we we're able to crawl on all fours under this obstacle.  This year you've lowered the bar..bed wire, forcing Mudders to belly-crawl, to pull their way through the rock-strewn muddy terrain or suffer the ignominy of a bloody arse. 

Tip: If you are wearing a hydration pack pop the tube in your mouth before entering the mud.  There’s nothing like drinking grit for the next few miles to make you remember this.  You could also remove your pack, place it off to the side, and pick it up again after the obstacle.  This helps avoid pack snags on the wire.  Or, skip the obstacle and go directly to a local pub.  You won't have another chance.

Trench Warfare: It's dark.  It's mysterious.  It's the kind of man my wife dreams about... wait, no... It's a no-nonsense, full-on body smell kind of obstacle.  If you're claustrophobic or have a fear of the dark, then this one is for you!  Drop on all fours and make your way underground.  How far do the tunnels go?  No idea.  Just keep crawling until you see the light; but don't crawl too quickly or you'll find out whether or not the Mudder ahead of you wipes regularly.

Tip: No one likes flatulence jokes while trapped in 2 x 2 tunnels, never mind actual flatulence.  Unless you're in front of your friends, don't fill the tunnels with methane.  Biological weapons have been banned by the U.N and TMHQ.

Bale Bonds:  Still don't like it.  Hay bales are boring when it's only two bales high.  Maybe there's some legal reason they can't build them higher, some kind of habeas writ ad nauseum corpus stigmata that prevents Mudder from building something truly impressive.  It should be called Bale Borings or Hay-Hum.  At least put several rows of them in our path.  Several up n'overs would be fun.  It would be cool if you could build it bigger, build it like it’s on steroids... then you could call it Barry Bale Bonds.

Tip: Take your time going up and over this obstacle or you will miss all the blatant boredom it offers.

Hold Your Wood: All you can hear as you enter this obstacle are men asking if anyone would like to hold their wood, that they are done with their wood, would anyone like to use their wood, and that their wood would need several people to carry it because it's so big.  Oddly enough, men and women alike rushed to take hold of previously held wood and, as a team, use that wood in and out of the dirty and wet environment, amid the encouragement of those watching, until they reached the end... together... and stop in a sweaty embrace, congratulating each other to a job well performed.  Who is next to hold my wood?  Sadly, no one wants to hold it but me.

Tip: Don't run with the log.  It's muddy.  It's slippery.  This is the first year I didn't see some asshat run with his log only to slip and have it fall on him, breaking a bone.  Hold Your Wood should not be Hold Your Bone In Place.

Glory Blades: I love the addition of the Blades.  Take a Berlin Wall.  Lean it toward the participants.  Yes, the height of the wall is diminished but it also takes away your ability to use the wall face to climb up and over it.  Mudders can come together in unity and ten-finger people up and over it, or you can jump, hook a leg, and pull yourself over.  Either way these are fun.  The original obstacle, "Glory Holes," although a big hit with the male demographic, was not well received by women.

Tip: I had tips when the original obstacle was in place.  Well, one tip.

Arctic Enema: Oh, Enema, how do I love thee, let me count the ways: #1: Nothing felt better on a 90+ degree day than an ice cold arctic dip.  This was less obstacle, more gift from the Mudder gods.  We actually lingered, if ever so slightly, in the ice bath before exiting its icy embrace.  Seriously, if you handed me a marguerita I would have stayed in there for at least one drink #2: Due to the heat of the day, most women ran in sports bras (can I get an amen!).  Due to the cut of a sports bra, as the women pushed themselves out of the Enema their icy, heaving bosom (can I get a halleluja!) would fill with ice cubes, causing every women to plunge their hands into their bras and remove all of the contents therein.  Yes.  All.  Everything in there came out.  They didn't care and I support equal rights so I didn't care.  That's a lie.  I cared deeply.  For many of them.  Which brings me to #3: I saw your boobs, and #4: Thank you.  (before you get your stuff in a bunch let me remind you that I ran shirtless the entire race and you're welcome)

Tip: Women, if it's very hot during your event, do this obstacle several times in a row.  It will cool you down and make you more comfortable for the coming miles.  Just ignore the superhero sitting in the shade smiling at all of you.  He's just proud of how well you're doing.

WWP Carry: Wounded Warrior Project Carry, aka, carry your buddy from point A to B in any way possible.  Over your shoulders.  On your shoulders.  On your back.  Whatever.  Due to a separation in our group, I didn't have a buddy to carry; but no worries.  Members of my team came back to haul my muddy ass across.  Not a hard obstacle by any stretch.  More funny than anything else as men carried men, women carried men, as groups carried individuals.  Not so much a challenge as it was a team building experience.

Tip: If you are carrying your buddy please make sure not to crush his unmentionables when you pick him up.  Yes, I am talking to you.  You know who you are.  This is suppose to simulate carrying your wounded friend from the battlefield, not simulate every relationship I've ever been in.

Walk the Plank: Didn't do it.  TM closed it.  They were hinting that, due to the heat, the pond which it was over was now too shallow to jump into safely. However, with my expert investigative skills, aka, someone told me, we later learned that the platform built over the pond had collapsed.  Hopefully no one was hurt. 

Tip: When building a platform off which Mudders will jump avoid using duct tape and gorilla glue.  Additional materials that are ill-advised when constructing obstacles: paper-mache, tin foil, Lincoln Logs,  the French, corrugated cardboard, politicians.  All have been known to break under pressure.

Cage Crawl: New to Mudder this year, at least for us.  Rubber lined canals covered with chain-link fencing.  As we entered the crawl, our bodies fully submerged with only our faces exposed, pressed against the fencing,  I thought, "This is comfy."  I think the idea was to simulate near drowning + claustrophobic conditions; but what it turned out to be was a relaxing float through tepid water as we pulled ourselves through to the exit on the other side, unhurt and refreshed.

Tip: Try to avoid getting any of the water in your mouth.  Do the math with me: standing water, 10,000 Mudders, miles of mud, hot sun, no porta potties.  It's tepid for a reason.

Kiss of Mud 2: The sequel.  Twice the barbed wire.  Twice the mud.  Twice the kissing, but now with tongue. 

Tip: Do the same thing as last time but twice as much.

Firewalker: The old firewalker was great.  Huge burning hay bales.  Acrid, poisonous, choke-inducing smoke.  Fear of a burning to death.  Now that's an obstacle!  This year... meh.  The town put a fire ban in place because of "potential problems with things that burn easily."  This year we had to jump over what could be best described as a Bic lighter flame into a pool below. 

Tip: Avoid doing aerials if you don't know the depth of the water.  No pencil dives, for the same reason.  Keep your legs soft.  It will cushion your landing.  Oh, and the local convenience store has a sale on matches in case you run out of lighter fluid.

Mud Mile:  This should not be labeled as an obstacle.  Mudders walk, run, crawl over 10+ miles of muddy terrain.  The whole course is miles of mud so saying that this is the mud mile is redundant and unoriginal.  Of course this is a mud mile.  You know what the last mile was?  A mud mile.  You know what the next mile will be?  A mud mile.  Sure, some miles were muddier than others.  Maybe you call certain miles Muddier Mile?  Maybe make a Muddiest Mile and fill a trench with thick, watery mud.  Something we can really coat ourselves in.  At a minimum remove this as an obstacle from the list.  It's not an obstacle, it's the course.

Tip: Watch your step during this mile because the mud does get deep in some places and it will be very slippery in others.  During the next mile, you will want to watch your step because the mud is slippery and deep.  The mile after that you probably want to watch your stop because, you know, mud.

Funky Monkey: It took me three years to accomplish this goal:  Make it across these fiendish monkey bars without falling into the water below.  If you are unfamiliar with them, these monkey bars are built into a low A-frame, so you have to swing up the bars to its peak, and then swing down.  This isn't your children's playground bars.  It's been Mudderfied!  And I did it!  WOOT!  Of course, the people I was with did it the first time around, but I am sure it was due to my inspirational crossing!

Tip: If you don't have a strong grip don't try to swing across these like you use to as a kid.  Focus on moving bar to bar so you have the use of both hands.  It may seem like cheating but it's not because it works.  Also, if it takes you three years to get across it, don't fret.  Great men took just as long.

Cliffhanger:  A bit of an overstatement as there is no cliff.  I am not sure which hill was the aforementioned Cliff so I’ll talk about one I remember.  Mudders could see the finish line.  They could taste it.  It’s so close… and then we went around the final bend and looked straight up Cliffhanger.  Souls were crushed.  Hopes were dashed.  There may have been crying.  There was definitely swearing.  Mudders shook their heads.  Some sat on the side of the very steep hill, if only for a moment, to rest.  Others nervously giggled, unsure if they had enough left in the tank for one more climb.  At least I think this is what was happening, I was too busy asking Mudders, “How about this hill?”

Tip: If you put one foot in front of the other and repeat that technique over and over again, you will reach the top.  Please lean slightly forward while doing so.  If you try to stand tall you will fall backward with much cursing.  You will have to climb the hill again.  Sobbing would be appropriate by you.  Laughter would be for everyone else.

Boa Constrictor: No matter how many times I want to explain this obstacle, which basically is shimmying down one long, tight tube and shimmying up another one, I can't help thinking, "This obstacle is pooping out Mudders ."  Childish, I know, but they're all muddy and brown and some of them stink.

Tip: Admittedly this was a poor attempt at potty humor, so here's my tip: If possible, stay on your toes and hands, holding yourself in a low plank.  There's not a lot of room in there and this position will give you the easiest way of moving yourself through the pipes.  Pulling yourself on your belly might prove uncomfortable, especially if the tubes have been sitting in the hot sun all day.  If you get stuck enough Mudders will follow you in and help you out.  It will be like a Mudder Colon Cleanse, which is a great name for an obstacle.

Electric Eel: I have to admit, this year I was nervous.  Having been shocked the past two years, I was less then excited at the potential jolt.  Putting fear aside, I lowered myself into the pool and began my belly crawl through the forest of hanging live wires.  Left, right I moved, always looking for the biggest gap between wires in which I could fit.  Yes!  I made it through without getting shocke... F***!  As I exited the Eel my calf grazed a lonely live wire.  With a jump and a swear, I was out.  Looking around, none of my teammates got so much as a tingle from this obstacle.  At least not from the wires.  Might be the speedo.

Tip: Avoid everything.  You're in water and they put live electric wires in front of you.  All of that is a recipe for disaster.  Seriously, who puts themselves through this?  Stupid people.  No smart person ever asked, "Hey, who here wants to get a nasty electrical shock?"  Avoid this, unless you're into S & M, and if you are... my safe word is cinnamon.

Berlin Walls: One of two things happened this year.  TMHQ either made the Walls shorter or, more likely, I got massive air (for you whiter folk, I can jump very high).  The Walls, an imposing 10 feet (at least) in height, are a great obstacle for Team Everyone to ten-finger friends and strangers alike up and over the wall. After we threw other Mudders over the wall, we made our solo attempts.  I ran, hit the cross beam with my foot, leapt to the top, and grabbed.  Success.  Mad props to my massive air.  Now someone help me down.  I don't like heights and it's scary up here.

Tip: I have to warn you, your feet are slippery after several miles of mud.  If you slip, your solo attempt at the wall could lead to a sudden, quick stop... against the wall... with your face.

Lumberjacked: From a distance this obstacle looks easy enough.  TMHQ had propped massive logs about 5 - 6 feet off the ground.  What's so hard about jumping up and over?  Everything.  It's hard enough not having something to prop your feet against but to climb over something that has nothing to grip is a pain.  Furthermore, jumping up to the log equates to jumping into the log, full force, to the chest.  Admittedly, I used Team Everyone getting over the second log.

Tip: With a running start you can make it up and over the first log, maybe.  It's doable.  The same goes for the second but you really need to wrap your arms and legs around that huge log and, after typing that, I realize how dirty it sounds.

Just the Tip: Unlike every high school boy's attempt, this is new to Tough Mudder.  Wooden walls with 2 x 4s nailed across them.  You can only use the tips of your toes and the tips of your fingers to get across, hence the name.  If they placed this obstacle near the beginning of the course, it would have been easier; but they placed it near the end and at the top of a huge, steep hill.  By the time people reached it they didn't have much left in the tank.  Some people just waved as they walked by the wall.  I guess they figured if they tried it they would have to go all the way... which is why every high school girl should never fall for it.

Tip: Squeeze the beams between your fingers and thumb while you run your feet parallel to the boards.  This will give you more control as you move your way across.  Also, just the tip always means "and the rest of it, too."

Everest:  The half pipe is a staple of Tough Mudder and a crowd favorite.  This obstacle epitomizes what Mudder is about: Team Work.  Those already on top extend their hands in support to those coming next.  Those waiting their turn shout encouragement to the Mudders sprinting up the ramp and taking a leap toward the top, toward the waiting hands of complete strangers who in a flash have become your long lost teammate.  Mudders show patience during this obstacle because not everyone makes it the first time, or second; but they will!  Team Everyone will make sure you do.  I have no jokes about Everest.  It makes me want to be a better man.  It makes me want to hold Mudders close in camaraderie and friendship.  Especially you.  Yes, you.  You know who you are.

Tip: If you need help making it to the top, don’t aim for the top platform.  Aim for Team Everyone’s waiting hands.  It is their job to get you to where you want to be.  If you don’t need help, run fast, get your momentum, and jump just before the ramp hits 90 degrees.  Waiting hands will still be there, just in case.

Electroshock: This is truly the only way to end a race.  You’re exhausted.  You’re hurt.  You want that finish line beer.  You want your orange headband.  You only need to get through the dangling live wires of ELECTROCUTING DEATH to get your just rewards… that may be a bit too much… dangling live wires of ELECTRIC TORMENT… no… I don’t know if the wires were on.  This was the first year I did not get hit, nor did anyone in my group… dangling live wires of NON-LIVE DANGLINESS... just doesn't sound imposing at all.  Maybe we were lucky.  Maybe Mudder didn't pay the electric bill.

Tip: Ran, dammit, run!  Ignore that jolt of electricity, it's just your inner spark ready to explode, that inner fire ready to ignite your awesomeness!  Ignore that sign that says 10,000 volts.  That is meant for others, not you.  Your headband and beer await, not to mention the accolades of friends, the jealousy of enemies, and hugs from sweaty, muddy Mudders!  Nothing says finish line like Muddy love!

Stay crazy,

Illustrious

Mudder Team Update: Gunstock, Here We Come!

The 2013 Mudder season is almost upon us and this year brings us something new!  Mudder HQ has introduced a new course for New England and it will be the Boston Mudder (The Boston Mudder will be held at Gunstock Mountain in Gilford, NH.  Any reference to the course being anywhere near Boston, or even in Massachusetts, is complete and total poppycock.  New Hampshire is better than Boston, anyway, and a much better state to have fun things in.  It is the "Live Free or Die" state and we do sign a Death Waiver to be at Mudder.  Seems apropos to me).

A new year equals a new course but it also brings with it new members to Team Age Aggressively and new names for our old members.

Without pomp and circumstance let me introduce this year's Team Age Aggressively:

Mid Life Crisis has been averted by dating someone half his age.  It's like buying a new sports car with the hope it will make you look younger but all people really assume is that your pubes went grey and you need someone young to help you down the stairs.  We who love you can only assume that she is with you because she thought she was getting a Sugar Daddy or, after listening to you regale others of your sexual conquests, a Big Daddy; but in the end all she is left with is an Old Daddy.

Just Out of Diapers has made some massive strides in the past year.  She has wrecked Ruckus!  She has seized the Spartan Sprint!  She has completed the Spartan Beast with fearsome Aggressiveness!  She has earned her merit badge for Assisting the Elderly and apparently has gotten over that old man smell!  Great to have you on the team, Assisted Living.

The Bunny Balladeer has continued her pattern of singing through all sorts of terrain.  Although she has tackled multiple obstacle courses in the past she has, by her own admission, been lacking in her "training" for "races" that involve "moving."  We on Team Aggressive have no doubts about her.  In the end there ain't no mountain high enough, ain't no river wide enough, to keep her from finishing any race while using those impressively Nice Pipes.

She Who Has No Name has gone from mild-mannered event participant to full-fledged racer, while studying to be an RN.  She does obstacles!  She does running races!  She does triathlons!  She remembers people's names when she meets them!  Seriously, that is one obstacle I have yet to master.  I wish I could say it was from having so much on my mind at all times, but, really, I stop paying attention about 5 seconds into the conversation because bikinis and pudding and puppies... what were you saying?  Anyhoo, bring on another race with Hello Nurse!

Whitey McWhiskey had a set-back this year.  Something about a herniated something something maxipad midol cramping.  He is back in full swing with his daily training regiment now!  What is it, you ask?  Don't know.  It must involve pulling tractors or lifting hay bales or moving really heavy things because, seriously, you ever notice how thick he is.  I don't understand how anyone who likes his whiskey can get that thick.  Maybe that's it!  Whiskey is his spinach!  Is that the secret ingredient, Huge Jameson?

Of course you'll have me, Illustrious.  There is nothing I can say here that I haven't already said in all my other posts.  You can expect the same kind of amazingly aggressive behavior!  You can expect complete and utter domination on whatever course I run!  You can fully expect more outrageous lies about how amazing I am!  One thing you cannot expect, however, is a name change.  I will remain Illustrious (no one calls me this.  Most just call me names and I cry... aggressively).

We also have two new members to our infamous team.  There is the undefinable Mr. Unknown.  Who is this mysterious man, you ask?  Where does he come from?  What does he do?  What does he look like?  Is he even real because sometimes you worry that I make people up so it looks like I know more people than I really do?  The answer to all these questions, and more, is quite simple because... I have no idea who he is.  Seriously.  He is completely, totally, and undeniably unknown to me.  He could be sitting next to me and I would have no idea who he was which would be weird and extremely uncomfortable because I am at home sitting in my very sexy underwear as I type this.

We will meet Mr. Unknown because his daring friend, Little Miss Yoga Pants, is also joining our team.  I could have called her any number of inappropriate yoga-esque names but, truthfully, I think she can kick my ass.  There were also several yogi jokes but they were all dirty and, after saying them out loud, funny, but wildly inappropriate and have no place on such an esteemed blog such as this.  If you disagree you can stick it up your asana.




There you have it, folks.  Team Age Aggressively is ready.  We have put minutes and minutes of training to get ready for this year's Mudder.  Are we ready for mud?  Absolutely.  Are we ready for icy cold water?  Positively.  Are we ready to bitch about how steep the hills are?  You know it, sista.  Will we finish in record time?  Doesn't matter.  At the end of the day Mudder is never about the time it took you to finish but the time you had while finishing.

Just a few more weeks, Mudders.  Team Age Aggressively looks forward to joining all you other Mudders at Gunstock.  If you see us, come over and say "Hi" or "Hey" or "Illustrious, we love you!"

It's almost time for another orange headband.  Hope it doesn't clash with my speedo.

Live Free or Die,

Illustrious

Age Categories Are Unfair!

I have decided after extensive research during the past few minutes that separating competitors into Age Groups is very limiting and extremely unfair.  For those of you who race, you are familiar with Age Groups.  For those of you who may be new to racing, Age Groups are the groupings race officials put the competitors in so you may compare your race standings with others in your age group.

Example:

Joey - male, age 26 - runs with Steve - male, age 38.  At the end of the race Steve finished 12th in his age group of competitors 30 - 39 years of age.  Joey finished 43rd in his age group, 20 - 29.  Steve points his finger and laughs at Joey for finishing so poorly in his age group, stating that he, Steve, was only beat by 11 competitors while Joey was beat by wayyyy more, like 42.  Joey does the math and concludes that Steve is a prick.  Joey enlightens Steve with the fact that there were 400 competitors in his age group while there were only 15 in Steve's.  Steve, resistant to facts and ratios, points his finger at Joey, loudly states that 11th place is better than 42nd place, and goes to the beer tent to brag about being more awesome than Joey.  Joey decides to hate Steve.

OK, this example has nothing to do with Age categories as much as it does that Steve's an ass, but my point is this: Age Categories are prejudice.  Their basis is arbitrary and is biased against most competitors.  Let me explain with another example.

Example:

Joey runs with Tom.  Joey and Tom run with 500 other competitors.  Joey finishes 15th and Tom finishes 17th.  Joey's category is 20 - 29 M.NK.NW.LFT: Male, No Kids, No Wife, time to exercise and train and sleep, aka Lots of Free Time.  Tom's category is 20 - 29 M.K.W.NFT: Male, has 2.5 Kids, a Wife, a job that requires too much time and has no freedom to do much of anything unless he stops sleeping, aka No Free Time.  Joey congratulates Tom for finishing so close to him.  Tom laughs and points out that Joey should have done a lot better than Tom since Joey has freedom and Tom is  currently serving a blissful life sentence.  Tom reminds Joey that they need to account for all variables by using the following equation to even the playing field before final standings would be revealed:

ExT - [(FrT / Kds + O) + (CJGH)] = AANTE

** Ext (Exercise Time), FrT (Free Time), Kds (Total Number of Kids), O (Owner, aka, Wife), CJGH (Chores Just Given to Him, aka, The Unknown Variable), AANTE (Actual Amount of No Time to Exercise)

After applying the equation to each competitor Tom is clearly the victor over Joey by 9 places.  The real standing would be Joey in 15th place, Tom in 6th place.  Tom, with facts on his side, points his finger and laughs at Joey for finishing so poorly in his age group and joins Steve in the beer tent to further mock Joey's inadequacies.  Joey now hates them both.

See? These new grouping would be more fair to everyone and by everyone I mean me.  I currently hold the most wins in the group 30 - 39 M.K.W.NFT.WSCBHLM (Wears Superhero Costumes Because Hey Look at Me!).

Rationalizing ineptitude since 2001,

Illustrious

** The above equation is not for everyone.  Please apply your variables to the one that works best for you (or create one yourself and post it on the blog!):

ExT - (BC + BJ / HWMM)(NSNSNS) = AANTE

** Ext (Exercise Time), BC (Bag of Chips), BJ (Ben and Jerry's), HWMM (Hours Watching Mad Men), NSNSNS (New Show New Series Never Seen), AANTE (Actual Amount of No Time to Exercise)

ExT / LNP + EMP + MDP = AANTE

** Ext (Exercise Time), LNP (Late Night Porn), EMP (Early Morning Porn), MDP (Mid-Day Porn), AANTE (Actual Amount of No Time to Exercise)

Ext - [(HE)(LNE) / (BS)(BFFHBB)] - WOI = AANTE

** Ext (Exercise Time), HE (Hate Exercising), LNE (Love Not Exercising), BS (Bikini Season), BFFHBB (Best Friend Forever Has Better Body), WOI (Wear One-piece Instead), AANTE (Actual Amount of No Time to Exercise)