A Tale of AROO: 2012 Spartan Sprint at Amesbury, Ma

The day opened dark with torrential rain, but the distant sky offered a glimmer of hope that change was coming, a change that, hopefully, would bring with it the warming embrace of the morning star.  There was apprehension and nervous energy in the air as we 300 gathered at the gates and listened to tales of past heroism, of successes and failures, and battles won and lost... and of burpees.  A collective groan brought me from my thoughts as we watched with horror while the Master explained that, YES, there would be push-ups with the burpees, no exceptions, for every challenge failed, for every obstacle left undefeated.  If ever there was a time to pray to the gods, now was that time.... burpees suck.

The Master completed his rousing speech with many an "AROO!" from the warriors who, clad in their finest battle spandex, were ready to be unleashed, ready to be unchained, ready for what lay ahead.  The trumpets blared and, as smoke rose from the very pits of Hell itself (or from those smoke bombs they just threw), we 300 began our journey, to live or to die, to come back with our shields or on them.... or, on a medical gurney, or maybe on crutches, and possibly with an ice pack, or some band-aids for boo-boos.

The beginning of the battle took its toll on seasoned and virgin warriors alike as we mounted the first steep, slick hill.  Many courageous souls had already fallen away from the phalanx as their muscles seized and their lungs burned, or they had fallen down because it was very, very slippery in some spots and they should be more careful.  We, who did not bow to the hill, soldiered on with a roar and entered the fields of obstacle glory.  From our vantage point we had an unobstructed view of the carnage that lay ahead.  Warriors young and old, male and female, fully clothed and half naked, were engaged in battle with walls and ropes and mud and fire and spears and other stuff.

We entered the valley and quickly made our way in and out of the watery mud pits.  We were not deterred as we courageously approached and scaled the 5 - 7 foot walls or dove beneath or through the gaps in the other wooden barricades.  We were warriors and nothing faced would fell us this day.

Leaving the valley for the single track trails lead us to the hopping logs.  Logs no more than 3 - 4 inches in width were standing upright in the ground.  I watched as others ran across without touching the ground, or fell in mid flight to the pain waiting below.  I would not fall this day.  I would be victorious. I would.... fall off the third log and, with, the command "Burpees" bellowed from behind, hit the ground for a annoying, painstaking 30... maybe 30... I think 30, crap now I lost count... and 30.

Let's hope there'll be no more of those, thank you very much.

Back into the trails and our enemies assailed us with all manner of fiendish torment, but it did not stop our attack, our momentum, our... our... god, I'm tired... our desire to succeed where others have failed.  Monkey bars.  Beaten.  Muddy trails.  Defeated.  Weighted pulley, uh... pulled.  Steep climbs.  Laughter rose up from within us.  It's either laughter or tears and there's no crying in Sparta.  Whimpering, bitching, and complaining, but no crying.


Across hills slick with the sweat and blood from Spartans before us, we fought.  Through waters befouled with pain and torment and mud, we endured.  In and out of harrowing, steep, root and stone strewn trails which grabbed at our feet and sought to pull us down deep into a cold, dark death, or off into the forest with sticks and branches and thorns that cause ouchies on your skin and leave holes in your spandex-clad behind, we strode.  Over cargo nets meant to ensnare weary warriors, we climbed, and, atop the mighty precipice, we witnessed the masses below heralding their brave warriors with chants of "cold beer waiting."  Off the nets and down the hill we charged to be met with another wall.  Across this wall we clawed, like Spartan Spiders.  Those who waited for the failing chanted "Burpees, burpees!" but their apetite for pain would not be satiated today.  We did not fall.

Up and down the hills we went again, burdened like Sisyphus, but with sand and bags, not rock; but, unlike he who fell time and again, we remained unfazed, unrelenting, untiring, unfallen.  We scaled the hill once more and re-entered the trails to make our final assault on the Field of Obstacles.

Burpees littered the battlefield.  Spartan Warriors lay sprawled throughout.  Today's battle was taking its toll.  With fire in our eyes and smoke in our lungs and a burning in our loins, we assailed the field with energy anew.  Hand over hand we climbed the ropes to its pinnacle.  The bell was rung, a death knell not for us but for the course.  Back into the mud pits we went, but its grasp could not detain us.  Over the hay bales and walls we scaled, and they did not lessen our stride... made us fall on our Spartan arses, but our stride was regained.   Many cast weapons that missed its mark, but this was not for us, as we grasped the javelin and, like Peltasts of old, hurled true.  Die vile hay bale!  Your pointy itchiness shall never bother us again as you feel the wrath of Spartan fury!

Our contingent marched on undaunted by the remaining tasks ahead.  The scent of victory lingered in the air as we came closer and closer to the finish line.  Although beset by the final obstacles, we made it this far and would not die this day.  With prowess the 8 - 10 foot walls were hurdled.  With fleetness of foot the stone and chain were dragged o'er the dirt.  With might Herculean the tractor tire was flipped!  Twice!  Diving under the barbed wire we rolled and crawled and climbed and bled through the final sticky, muddy obstacle in the field.

A final frenzied dash through a burning maelstrom, down a hill, over a barricade, and through the jousters, we weekend warriors crossed the finish line.  The taste of victory was muddy and salty and a little gritty... but sweet!

Now bring us our free beer, our accolades, and our bitches.  Bitches love Spartans!

Final standing for the Sunday Sprint - Total Racers = 3644

And Let the Wild Ruckus Start: Ruckus Boston 2012

Before I go into the 2012 Boston Ruckus held at the Marshfield Fairgrounds, let me thank my extended racing family for joining me in our second year of running Ruckus.  Whether it be the Neighbors who came in full force to show their obstacling prowess, or Mid-Life Crisis and Just Out of Diapers who vanquished the course with mighty aggressiveness, or our virgin obstacle racer who, after admitting that she really enjoyed getting muddy during the event, will forever now be known as Likes It Dirty (hope that doesn't tarnish her crystal clean reputation), they one and all deserve accolades and foot massages for their triumphant completion of the Ruckus.  Well done!!

Minus "Just Out of Diapers", who may have been taking this pic

And now for the Ruckus...

If you have been aggressively following me you would know that I had a few complaints about last year's Ruckus: registration, gear drop, and some damaged and/or ineffective obstacles.  Now, I don't want to take full credit for the changes Ruckus made in their 2012 event but they made minor improvements with registration and gear drop, and vast improvements to their obstacles, almost like a little Illustrious told them they needed to be improved upon and you're welcome.

No one really cares that much about registration and gear drop as long as they know it goes smoothly, so there it is.  It was much smoother than last year.  The registration was much more registrationy and the place for our gear was droppier.  Kudos!

Everyone cares about the course and Ruckus, you done good!  The array of obstacles were top-notch.  You had your basic mud pits and dirt hills, your muddy water crawls and mud-thick single-track trails, your cargo net and tall wall climbs, your monkey bars and low hurdles, etc; but it was the improvements to typical obstacles and the overall layout of the course that had me at hello.

So let's talk improvements, shall we?

1. Rope Rings: Last year your rope rings, to be polite, sucked.  The contraption you built for us this year became one of the crowd favorites.  It was doable, but challenging.  Fun, but troublesome.  It allowed us to laugh at ourselves while we swung back and forth trying to get to the next rope, and swear under our breath at the people in front of us who were taken too damn long trying to get to the next rope just let go and fall in the mud already you're slowing us down and now I feel silly just swinging back and forth and back forth and I probably don't look like Tarzan swinging here and now I'm stopping while a wait so a little push would be great.  Aside from my impatience with others, massive improvement from last year's Ropes and I look forward to swinging on it again.  Apparently this obstacle was a showcase for Ruckus because everyone had pictures from it, like this:

and this:

and this:  

and this:

and this:

2. Course layout: The layout last year was good, not great, but good.  Last year the vendors were ostracized from where all the fun was, but this year Ruckus let them be a part of the fun.  This year's course was around (and under) the spectators, the vendors, registration, and bag check; all conveniently packed together for our enjoyment.  There were multiple places the fans could go to watch your amazing feats of total aggressiveness.  Or they could watch you fall and get muddy.  The mix of obstacle to running ratio was good.  Never felt like you were running too long and there was just enough running to separate the masses, which lead to no waits at the obstacles.  I think they added more trail running this year, too, but I can't be sure.  Additionally, Ruckus placed the end of the race by the Kids Ruckus course, which was a boon for those who had a friend or family member running but also had kids to entertain.  You could do both.  Witness your friend in all his/her glory as they pass the finish line while simultaneously watching your (or their) kid ruin that brand new outfit he just got last week and will never, ever get all the mud out of it; which is OK because dirt is temporary, clothes are replaceable, and the joy you have as you turn over a muddy child to their owner is sheer bliss.

3. Ruckus Tower: We can't talk about the layout or new obstacles without mentioning the Tower.  Ruckus built a multi-leveled obstacle with rope ladders, cargo nets, and a slide that, depending on where you were in the Tower, could see other racers over and under you as you and they scaled this obstacle together.  Also, the kids course wove in and out of the Tower but never interfered with the adult course.  Big time props on the construction of the Tower.  To make it even better Ruckus placed the MC at the top of the tower to announce who was coming up and over for their final slide to the finish line... yup, big steep slide to the finish line.  Big obstacle, big improvement, big way to finish a race!

4. Me: There are many things I enjoy about these races and you would know what they are if you've been reading this blog, mainly: muddy stuff, climbing stuff, swinging from stuff, running through stuff, and stuff that looks good in muddy spandex.  I need to put another one on the list: Fellow Obstaclers.  These races are growing in popularity, which is great, and the familiar faces I see at the races always make it more memorable.  I don't know if I can say the same for them as they have only seen the Captain, never the mild mannered man underneath; but I think the feeling is mutual.  Lots of love to be had at these races... but only by other guys.... no girl love... why is there no girl love... no muddy spandex girl love... I thought girls loved a man in uniform!

What's not to love?

Final Results: (There was a lot of great competition out there but I managed to, once again, make it into the Champion's Heat.)


Overall Place Division         Age Group Place Time         Pace
89                    Ruckus Challenge 70                 39:48 9:57/M
14                    Ruckus Champion 12                 38:13.9 9:35/M

Illustrious

Tough Mudder VT (2012): Muddy, Bloody, Burnt, and Happy (Part 3)

Yes.  YES!  The final installment of the 2012 Tough Mudder at Mount Snow, VT.  Was there waiting on bated breath?  To be honest, even if there was I wouldn't know what it was.  What is bated?  Is it baited?  Like fish.  Is it fishy breath?  That's gross.  If you have fishy breath go read somewhere else.  You smell.

(And, yes, it has been far too long between Mudder installments but shit gets in the way:  (1) I had to sit down and type stuff, but (2) there was TV to watch and (3) I wasn't feeling particularly witty.  No one wants a serious Aggressive because then I'll sound like some old curmudgeon.... which would be a great name for Mid-Life Crisis once he hits 50... Old Curmudgeon!)

Back to our harrowing tale of courage and fortitude and mud and wet undies!  Or maybe just back to the obstacles.

(My apologies to everyone but I did not have any good pictures of most of these obstacles.  I need a better camera, or better yet, a GoPro.... vlogging would be best; but until that time you will have to put on your imagination caps and take a walk down imaginary lane with me.  I knew you could.)
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Walk the Plank: First rule of mask-wearing:  They come off in water.  Second rule: Very cold water makes it hard to readjust your mask while you are turning into a drowning hero-sicle.  There were no improvements to the Plank this year.  We climbed up to the platform, jumped 15 - 20 feet into a cold pond, and swam out; but what else could they do?  Make it higher?  Maybe, but that would mean the pond would need to be deeper.  Make the water colder?  Any colder and it would be ice.  They could make it more pirate-ier.  Force us to walk the plank.  Yell some piratey cliches, "Avast ye scurvy mudder, it be yur time to meet Davy Jones and sleep with the fishes"  Wait, that's sounds more like the mob... Mafia Pirates!  You hear about the mafia pirate who had a hook for a hand?  He had a speech impediment.  Get it?  Cuz he only had one hand and Italians... oh, never mind...

Underwater Tunnels: These are gross every year.  When you watch the videos on-line you see people swimming under barrels floating on cold, but fairly clean water.  These people never come up on the other side covered in muck, detritus, and woodland refuse; but we do, and by "we" I mean "me."  Mount Snow's "Tunnels" are nothing more than PVC pipes running across a foot deep puddle.  The object is to go under those pipes, which means fully submerging ourselves in the woody waste water.  One improvement: they strung barbed wire over the pipes so no one could skip out of the foresty flotsam by climbing over the pipes. You can't get hurt on this one and it's really not that cold; but do close your mouth because who knows what's lurking in the murk... and that's just disgusting.

Glacier of ice, or something else?

Glacier: Aka, Big Mound of Snow.  It wasn't at bad as last year's Glacier where we had ice ravines to walk through, freezing our lil'piggies off; but it was still a big pile of snow.  I neither love nor hate this obstacle.  It's easy but it's cold and it doesn't evoke any real visceral emotions when you've climbed off it... kind of like some people I've known...

The Gauntlet: Muddy, slick hill.  Hay bales to climb over during our ascent.  Cold water blasted on us from above... yup, same as last year; but, wait a minute... is that a kid controlling the fire house?  Little punk is laughing at us Mudders while blasting us with ice cold water!  Damn kids these days!  No respect for their elders! Get off my lawn obstacle!

Just as good as in the movies

Berlin Walls #2: Ah, yes, my 15' tall wooden wall nemesis.  We meet again.  These are the same walls as last year and they present the same problems to the already weary, wet, and cold Mudders.  They are hard to climb over solo and need Team Everyone.  Problem with Team Everyone is that not everyone on Everyone is, shall we say, as easily movable as others.  I, being S.L.A.B. (aka: Slender Like a B****), am easily hoisted to the top of the walls.  Others, being F.L.A.B (aka: uh, flab), are not.  Maybe you'll be lucky and only have to throw some SLABs around.  Maybe you won't be and have to throw some FLABS.  Either way, the only way up n'over for most is with the help of other Mudders, and isn't that why we're there?

Fire Walker: Oil-soaked bales of hay?  Check.  Raging inferno lit?  Check.  Acrid smoke billowing over the exhausted runners?  Of course!  This year I was ready for the Fire and, as luck would have it, nature played in my favor.  Once we entered the Fire the wind changed direction, pulling with it the wall o' smoke that would have caused it's typical panic.  It would have been clear running had it not been for Mudder's little sadistic addition.  Mudder had placed a gas pipe across our path in which a low flame was burning through its jets.  As we readied ourselves to hop over the small spouts of fire, the man sitting on the side, whose hands were on the gas valve controlling the amount of gas flowing through the pipe, turned up the heat.  Literally.  What was a small spout became a huge jet of hellfire which, I must say, was a nice touch.  Surprise danger is always a good way to heat things up.  He let it fall back to its original size but it had the desired effect: stopping us dead in our tracks with a look that, if I'm not mistaken, said, "asshole."

Never has a "On Fire" joke been more
apropos

Twinkle Toes: If you knew me you would know that the name of this obstacle reeks of humor directed at yours truly.  I have often been accused of someone who is "light on his feet" or "light is his loafers."  I'm not sure why.  Is it my penchant for spandex or my enthusiasm for dressing in costume?  It remains a mystery; but after successfully walking across the 1-inch narrow, 15 foot long beam which was suspended a few feet over an icy pool, it did not take long for the jokes to roll in... especially by those who had fallen in.  Who's to say why I was able to do it when others couldn't.  Maybe I am lighter on my feet then my compatriots.  Maybe if they were in front of me I'd know, but they were always suspiciously behind me, behind spandex-clad me... watching... leering... if I didn't know any better, I would feel objectified.

Greased Lightning: Last year's was better.  Last year they had a slip n'slide down a hill into a waiting icy pool.  This year they just kept the muddy hill wet.  Yes, it was slippery.  Yes, we could slide down it.  Yes, it was muddy, wet fun; but, unlike last year, I didn't feel like I was "burnin' up the quarter mile" after it.

Nothing "shocking" about our muddy
finish

Electroshock Therapy: I didn't get shocked.  I didn't get shocked.  I ran through and didn't get shocked.  Last year I got shocked in the face, but not this year!  This was the same obstacle as last year, a multitude of random live wires dangerously dangling in our path with the only addition being hay bales placed randomly under the electrified wires to slow us down.  I am guessing that Mudder was upset that Mudders were sprinting through the wires last year to avoid having many touch them at once, diminishing the chances of being shocked, and, thus, negating any fun for the spectators.  Nothing makes the spectators Ooh and Aah like watching their loved ones take a stinging jolt of 10,000 volts.  Loved ones are sadistic.

Finish: 10+ miles done.  Who knows how long it took and who cares.  This isn't about the pace and place, it's about the journey and the stories and the pain and the laughter.  Give us our orange headband.  Give us our free beer.  Give us our free vendor provided energy supplements.  Gimme.  Gimme.  Gimme... because we earned it.  For our veteran Mudders, welcome back and congratulations!  For our new Mudders, thank you for joining our unofficial racing family.

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It's not TMHQ that makes this worth doing.  It's not the location or the course.  It's you, Mudder, new and old, who make this worth doing.

  It's you who comes to share with me your want to finish, your wish to succeed, and your will to strive.  It's you who makes the story and with that brings life to the telling.  I may be waxing a bit sentimental but you all deserve it.  Each and every one of you.

The Officially Unofficial Team

A team hug was in order because nothing says a job well done like muddy hugs.  Until next Mudder... stay Aggressive!

Illustrious

Triathlons Are Dumb

Can we all just agree right now that triathlons are dumb?

Isn't it a bit elitest to throw three sports into one race?  "Oooo, look at me!  I can swim, bike, and run well.  I'm a superior athlete.  I eat endorphins for breakfast.  My resting pulse is 3.  All my clothes are spandex...."

Ok, the spandex clothes are cool, but the rest?  Ugh...

Whatever happened to the good ole days when swimmers swam, cyclists cycled, and runners were mocked by everyone?  Nowadays it seems that if you only do one of the three you're considered lazy, and if you do two of the three you might as well have a menage trois and join all three together for an athletic orgy... which, as I write this, sounds awesome.... but, still, my point remains the same!

Dumb.

Admittedly, they've grown in popularity over the last decade or so and have pushed the envelope on physical fitness; but, let's be honest, pushing America's physical fitness envelope doesn't require much.  Putting down that damn glazed doughnut would be a start.  They have given many people a new, healthy pastime versus, say, binge drinking while watching amateur porn and slowly falling asleep drenched in your own tears.  Although, both involve a certain level of dedication.  Triathlons have brought people together with a common goal not to win or to place but to compete and complete.  These competitions have enabled many to get off their couches, put down their remotes, and start feeling alive again!

But, really?  Dumb.

Yes, I will concede that triathlons, be they sprint, olympic, international, half, or full, have allowed many to feel alive again, if not through their training then through their sense of accomplishment after crossing that finish line.  I will also capitulate that because of the growing popularity we now have younger and younger people (read: kids) wanting to be involved with this activity.  This is far better than what most kids are doing which I can only assume, after looking at them, is eating lard from a jar.

But you're still missing my point and it is this... regardless of all the facts before us, regardless of the many emotional and mental benefits these events bring to us, regardless of the boon to physical fitness... triathlons are dumb.

They are dumb...

... and I completely suck at them.

Tough Mudder Vt (2012): Muddy, Bloody, Burnt, and Happy (Part 2)

Welcome back, Aggressives, to another fun-filled, fact-filled, and fantasy-filled installment of the 2012 Tough Mudder at Mount Snow, Vermont.  See?  Your wait wasn't too long.  As promised, Part 2 will continue where Part 1 left off. 

Welcome to Part 2.
*As last time, these obstacles are not in order and we may or may not have actually seen them on the course.  Either way, real or imaginary, they were all fun.

Devil's Beard: This year proved me correct.  Last year Team Everyone worked in unison and supported the weight of the Beard, aka a cargo net pinned to the ground, while walking under it.  This year, whether it be bad timing or bad luck, I went it solo.  Doing the net by yourself is crappy, doable, but crappy.  The Devil's short and curlies were crushing my spirits into the muddy earth below.  I felt trapped and alone.  Would I survive?  Would I succumb?  Would I fill more of this white space with additional whining because it wasn't really that bad.  I was just being lazy.  Work is so much better when other people are doing it for me.

Funky Monkey: I love these monkey bars.  Last year I managed to make it to the pinnacle of the monkey bar A-frame before falling into the icy depths below.  After that I swore that the following year I would do better.  I would be stronger.  I would be more prepared.  I would succeed!  I grabbed hold of the first bar.  I swung, with cold, aching hands, from bar to bar.  Up to the apex of the frame I climbed.  Yes!  The top!  I reach for the next bar to start my descent and... missed.  With all my readiness, in the end I would be falling back into the icy depths below.  I managed to make it exactly as far as I made it last year.  I hate these money bars.  

Kinky Tunnels: New to the course this year and I hope they bring them back.  The Tunnels were winding trenches dug into the slope and then covered.  There was just enough room to blindly crawl on your hands and knees through the darkness to get to the egress.  They called them Kinky because the tunnels were not straight.  They had kinks in them.  Kinky Tunnels is a good name for underground dance club, "We totally partied at Kinky Tunnels last night."  It could be a new position for coitus, "I was with Jainey last night.  We did the Kinky Tunnel."  It definitely is a great porn name, "Mudder Loving starring Kinky Tunnels..."  What were we talking about?

Berlins Walls #1: I was worried when they put in two sections of Berlin Walls because the height of them makes me a little squeamish.  Yes, I don't like heights, least of all when I am tired and feeling mildly unstable (physically... mildly physically unstable).  These Walls, however, were not as tall as the typical walls.  We were able to jump, grab the top, and hoist ourselves over without too much trouble.  These were more aperitif Berlin Walls, still just as fun, whetting your appetite for the real meal later on.  As a side note, I have yet to hear anyone make a Gorbachev jest about these walls.  I guess no one was "Russian" to make that joke.  If I have to explain that one to you, you are too young or I'm old.

Boa Constrictor: Same as last year and still as fun.  Last year I was a bit apprehensive about going through the first tube whose only exit was mostly under water, and the only way to enter the exit tube was to go back under and make your way out the second tube.  Not deep water, but if you are mildly claustrophobic the idea of having to submerge your face into muddy water may be too much.  This year I attacked the Boa with far more oomph.  Oomph because I swear these oomph tubes are tighter than oomph last year. I thought we oomph crawled through last year but oomph this year all I could manage was to slither on my oopmh belly which, I swear, I thought was smaller this year.

Tired Yet?: This appears to be a staple to all obstacle courses, so I guess it should be expected at Mudder.  Lots of tires.  Uphill.  You can run it.  You can walk it.  You can trip over it.  At this point in the course no one will laugh at you for falling; unless they're your friends.  Friends always laugh when you fall.  They're never tired of that.

Hay Bale Pyramid: Still one of my least favorite obstacles.  I don't know why they call this a pyramid.  Pyramids are grand, huge objects built to mirror the greatness of the pharaoh.  This was only two bales high.  Did this pharaoh have self-esteem issues?  Why was it so small?  Maybe it wasn't, which is why he didn't have to overcompensate by building huge pyramids like the other pharaohs.  Either way, less pyramid, more teepee, but Hale Bale Teepee sounds bad.

Ball Shrinker: One of my new favorites.  Last year they had us grab hold of a guiding rope and walk across another rope which was drawn through the ice cold pond.  Inevitably, due to the instability of both the ropes and the Mudders crossing, you would fall into the water.  This year they tightened the top rope, allowing us to suspend ourselves from it.  Hanging upside down, arms and legs around the top rope, we pulled ourselves hand over hand above the pond.  The further we slid, the closer we were to the icy pond below.  Many fell and had to swim to the other side.  People were wet.  They were muddy.  They were tired.  Some were crying.  Reminds me of a date I had in high school.

Mystery Obstacle #3: Ok, enough with the mystery obstacles.  I only remember one and it was probably due to the shock therapy I received.  I don't think they had another mystery.  Maybe that's why they put it on the maps.  To throw us off the sent.  To steer us down the wrong path.  They knew we were close, that we had all the clues, and they got desperate; but in the end it was the butler all along.  In the kitchen.  With the whisk.  Seriously, what the hell was this obstacle?

Cliff Hanger: If you don't know already,  the Mount Snow course is hilly with all its hills.  You got long hills and muddy hills and rocky hills and short hills and wet hills and grassy hills and steep hills.  Yes, steep hills.  Especially this one.  How steep was it?  It was so steep that you could grab hold of the hill while still walking up it.  It was so steep that had you stood up would have fallen backward.  It was so steep that when she sits around the house, she sits around the house.  It was so steep that she has her own area code.  It was so steep that whenever she goes to the beach, the tide comes in.  It was so steep.... wait, those are your mama so fat jokes... I don't have any this hill is so steep jokes.  Wait, wait, this hill is so steep that if your mama fell down, she would be an avalanche.

Everest: They brought back the skater's vert ramp but built it a bit taller than last year.  When we arrived at this obstacle there was substantial wait time.  This is always an obstacle where Team Everyone waits on the top to pull other Mudders up if they cannot reach it by themselves.  Thankfully, I don't need the assistance.  Swiftly and with grace I ran to the ramp, ready to propel myself to the top platform, and tripped, hitting my face against the ramp.  Thankfully there were at least a hundred people there to witness my ninja-like agility.  Take two:  Thankfully Team Everyone was there to assist me getting to the top of Everest as I gingerly leapt into their waiting arms.  Hold me.

........

Hope you enjoyed the second installment of the 2012 Tough Mudder at Mount Snow, Vermont.  I need you to be more patient than last time waiting for the third and final installment.  There will be intrigue, romance, and maybe an honor killing.  There was to be copious amounts of nudity but who wants to see sweaty, muddy, bruised, and bloody people in the buff?  Not you readers of this blog, who have a more refined taste and sense of culture.  Plus, no one would let me take pictures of them naked.  Anyhoo, working on the last installment and will have it to you soon*.

*by soon I mean when I am done which could take upwards to forever depending on when I will sit down to write it