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.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
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!
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!
Friday, July 22, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, July 15, 2011
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!!!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!!!
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